The Long March: The Political Strategy of Sinn Fein, 1981-2007

The Long March The Political Strategy of Sinn Féin, 1981–2007

Martyn Frampton

The Long March

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The Long March The Political Strategy of Sinn Féin, 1981–2007

Martyn Frampton Peterhouse University of Cambridge, UK

© Martyn Frampton 2009 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No portion of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6-10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The author has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2009 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Palgrave Macmillan in the UK is an imprint of Macmillan Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998, of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS. Palgrave Macmillan in the US is a division of St Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010. Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above companies and has companies and representatives throughout the world. Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries. ISBN-13: 978 0 230 20217 7 ISBN-10: 0 230 20217 9 This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. A catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Antony Rowe, Chippenham and Eastbourne

Contents Acknowledgements

vii

Glossary of Terms and Abbreviations

ix

Introduction

1

1

2

3

4

Building the Political Party and ‘Republicanization’, 1981–5 Introduction The community-based, campaigning party Left-wing radicalism meets ethnic nationalism The contradictions of a ‘broad-church’ party Conclusion

20 20 26 32 38 43

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 Introduction Pan-nationalism The ‘peace strategy’ Political development: working towards the ‘mainstream’ Conclusion

47 47 52 58 65 71

Towards Negotiation and the ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’, 1990–7 Introduction Ending the armed struggle Pan-nationalism revisited Negotiations Conclusion

74 74 79 88 94 98

Confronting Unionism, Negotiation and Agreement, 1997–2001 Introduction Negotiations and agreement: the challenge Winning the debate: dissent versus dictatorship? Negotiations and agreement: the opportunity Conclusion v

102 102 107 115 121 131

vi

Contents

5

Sinn Féin Centre Stage: The Search for Political Growth, 2001–4 Introduction Political development anew The ‘party of government’ versus the ‘party of protest’ The ‘instrumentalization’ of the peace process Conclusion

133 133 135 143 150 155

Reversal, Recovery and Divergence, 2004–7 Introduction On the back foot Regaining the initiative St Andrews and the final lap: triumph and despair Conclusion

157 157 158 165 173 179

6

Conclusion

183

Appendix I: The Leadership of the Republican Movement during the Peace Process

193

Appendix II: The Geographical Base of the Republican Leadership

194

Notes

195

Bibliography

240

Index

248

Acknowledgements In writing this book I was fortunate to benefit from the wisdom and good advice of many people. Foremost among them is Dr Brendan Simms, whose readiness to read over innumerable drafts of the text, offer astute comments and much-needed direction, proved indispensable. Not only has Brendan been a defining intellectual influence on me, but also someone who has become a good friend. Alongside him, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Professor Paul Bew, whose own intellectual radiance and generosity is of inestimable benefit to all who are lucky enough to encounter it. Similar tribute must also go to Sean O’Callaghan. He has become a close friend; someone whose insight and advice I value enormously. I also owe a tremendous amount to the incomparable Dr Dean Godson – his passion for perfection is a genuine inspiration. Another whose contribution I must acknowledge with great thanks is Dr Anthony McIntyre. His keen observations and understanding of the way in which the republican movement operates have been invaluable. I could go on almost without end, so for the sake of brevity I must ask the indulgence of the following, to whom I must simply confine myself to saying ‘thank you very much’: Henry Robinson, Ruth Dudley Edwards, Professor Henry Patterson, Dr Richard Bourke, Jim Cusack, Dr Adam Tooze, Dr Eugenio Biagini, Dr Agnès Maillot, Professor Jon Tonge, Cyril, Elizabeth and Stephanie Campbell, Laura Twiss, Marjorie Hawkins and Allan Leonard. And of course, the most heartfelt thanks to Dr John Bew – a great friend and an intellectual giant, whom I am privileged to know and work with. Thanks must also go to the numerous people who have offered assistance in a variety of ways and without whom this book would never have been completed: to Ross Moore and the staff of the Linenhall Library in Belfast, whose application and expertise continue to be deeply appreciated by all engaged in research on Northern Ireland; to the late Denis Donaldson, who gave me my first introduction to the republican movement; to all those who agreed to be interviewed in the course of my research, with special mention for Jim Gibney, Danny Morrison and Eoin O’Broin, who were kind enough to provide multiple interviews and answer innumerable queries; to Charlie for the countless emails he sent; and to Gerry Gregg, Jim Brick and friends for a great tour of Dublin. I do not doubt that I have forgotten someone important and for that I can only apologise. To all who have lent me their help and advice, I offer my sincerest thanks. Any errors that remain within the text are entirely my own. In addition to these people, I must also express my gratitude to the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) for its provision of funding for the duration of my doctoral thesis; so, too, to Jesus College, Cambridge, for vii

viii

Acknowledgements

affording me the most magnificent environment in which to live and work – and latterly to Peterhouse, Cambridge, for giving me the opportunity to take forward the doctoral thesis and re-work it into this book. Thanks also to Gemma D’Arcy Hughes and the people at Palgrave Macmillan for agreeing to publish this work; and also to Keith Povey, whose professionalism and skill as copy-editor it was a privilege to witness first hand. Above all, the greatest thanks must go to those closest to me. I am lucky to be blessed with truly wonderful friends and family. Not only have they tolerated my obsession with Northern Ireland, but their encouragement and assistance made this book possible. I am grateful to Tess for her unwavering support and kindness while much of the book was being written. Also, I must mention my parents, Dennis and Ros, and my sister, Emma; for their collective supportiveness and forbearance, I cannot say thank you enough. More than anything this book is for them and for all the years of work they put in, to get where I am today. Last, but in no way least, I must thank Emily – for being the person she is, for putting up with me and for making life infinitely more fun in the process. Thank you. Cambridge

MARTYN FRAMPTON

Glossary of Terms and Abbreviations ANC African National Congress – South African political (formerly military) group AP/RN An Phoblacht/Republican News – Sinn Féin’s weekly newspaper Ard chomhairle National executive of an Irish political party, especially Sinn Féin Ard fheis Annual conference of an Irish political party, especially Sinn Féin ASU Active Service Unit – IRA ‘cell’, consisting of eight members COCAD Coalition of Communities Against Drugs – Committees set up by local communities, primarily in inner-city Dublin, in the 1990s, to combat heroin dealing and drug abuse Comhairle ceantair ‘District executive’ of Sinn Féin. Equivalent to County electoral area ‘Continuity’ IRA Dissident republican paramilitary organization in Ireland, created in 1986 by republicans unhappy with (Provisional) Sinn Féin’s decision to abandon abstentionism. It only became active after the 1994 ‘Provisional’ IRA ceasefire CPAD Concerned Parents Against Drugs – Committees set up by local communities, primarily in inner-city Dublin, in the 1980s, to combat heroin dealing and abuse Cúige ‘Regional executive’ of Sinn Féin. Equivalent to EU electoral constituency Cumann Branch – smallest unit of party organization within Sinn Féin (plural, cumainn) DAAD Direct Action Against Drugs – Cover-name for the IRA Dáil (Éireann) Lower house of the Irish Parliament DUP Democratic Unionist Party – Unionist party in Northern Ireland, led until May 2008 by the Reverend Ian Paisley ETA Euskadi ta Askatasuna (‘Basque Homeland and Freedom’), Basque paramilitary organization, fighting for an independent Basque country FARC ‘Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia’ – paramilitary organization Fianna Fáil Largest political party in the Republic of Ireland Fine Gael Political party in the Republic of Ireland Gardai The Irish Police H-Blocks Term for the Maze Prison in Northern Ireland, site of the 1980 and 1981 hunger strikes IICD Independent International Commission on Decommissioning – body set up under General John de Chastelain to monitor the decommissioning of paramilitary weapons in Northern Ireland

ix

x

Glossary of Terms and Abbreviations

IMC International Monitoring Commission – body set up following the British and Irish governments’ ‘Joint Declaration’ of 2003, to monitor paramilitary activity IRA Irish Republican Army (Provisional). Republican paramilitary organization in Ireland, created 1969–70, out of a split within republicanism. Linked to (Provisional) Sinn Féin LRR Left Republican Review – Left-wing republican magazine, produced intermittently from 2000 onwards MEP Member of the European Parliament MLA Member of the Legislative Assembly (Northern Ireland) MP Member of Parliament (Westminster) National H-Block/Armagh Committee Broad-based committee that campaigned in support of the hunger strikers’ demands in 1980–1 Nationalist Someone opposed to Northern Ireland remaining within the United Kingdom; favours Irish unity NORAID Irish Northern Aid Committee – Republican support group based in the United States of America ‘Official’ IRA Republican paramilitary organization in Ireland, created in 1969–70, out of a split within republicanism. Part of the ‘Official’ republican movement Óglaigh na hÉireann Name claimed by the IRA. Literally translates as ‘Volunteers of Ireland’ (also used by the Irish Defence Forces) Oireachtas The Irish Parliament – the upper and lower houses together with the President PLO Palestinian Liberation Organization – umbrella group for Palestinian groups, campaigning for a Palestinian state PSNI Police Service of Northern Ireland – successor to the RUC ‘Real’ IRA Dissident republican paramilitary organization in Ireland, created in 1997, by republicans unhappy with Sinn Féin’s acceptance of the Mitchell Principles on non-violence Republican Sinn Féin Dissident republican political party, led by Ruairi Ó Brádaigh. Created in 1986, by republicans unhappy with (Provisional) Sinn Féin’s decision to abandon abstentionism RUC Royal Ulster Constabulary – Northern Irish police force, succeeded in 2001 by the PSNI Sandinistas Marxist revolutionary group in Nicaragua SAS Special Air Service. British army unit specializing in covert operations SDLP Social Democratic and Labour Party – ‘Constitutional nationalist’, Northern Irish political party, previously led by John Hume Seanad (Éireann) Upper house of the Irish Parliament Sinn Féin Republican Political Party (Provisional), led by Gerry Adams. Created 1969–70, out of split within republicanism. Linked to the ‘Provisional’ IRA

Glossary of Terms and Abbreviations

xi

SWAPO South West African People’s Organization – 1980s paramilitary group Taoiseach Irish Prime Minister TD Teachta Dáila – Member of the Irish Parliament 32 County Sovereignty Movement Political wing of ‘Real’ IRA, created in 1997 by republicans unhappy with Sinn Féin’s acceptance of the Mitchell Principles on non-violence TUAS ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’ – title of the 1994 republican document that outlined the rationale for the first IRA ceasefire UDA Ulster Defence Association – Loyalist paramilitary organization in Northern Ireland UFF Ulster Freedom Fighters – Loyalist paramilitary organization in Northern Ireland (linked to the UDA) Unionist Someone who favours Northern Ireland remaining within the United Kingdom; opposed to Irish unity UUP Ulster Unionist Party – Mainstream Unionist Party in Northern Ireland, previously led by David Trimble UVF Ulster Volunteer Force – Loyalist paramilitary organization in Northern Ireland

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Introduction

In October 1982, the modern-day Sinn Féin party contested its first election under a stark and uncompromising banner: ‘Break the British connection! Smash Stormont!’ Stormont had been the home of the Northern Irish Parliament for half a century between 1920 and 1972, until that institution was dissolved as the province was engulfed by conflict. Republicans had long declared their antipathy to the body – and to any effort to resuscitate it. As Sinn Féin’s 1982 manifesto proclaimed, proposals then on the table for a new Northern Ireland Assembly (the body for which the elections were being held) were simply ‘an attempt to reconstitute Stormont’. The rejoinder of the party was straightforward: ‘Sinn Féin candidates will never attend the new Stormont.’1 Among Sinn Féin’s political opponents at that election was the hard-line Democratic Unionist Party of the Reverend Ian Paisley. Two years later, Paisley’s party would stand in elections under the slogan, ‘Smash Sinn Féin’. Twenty-five years later, the President of Sinn Féin, Gerry Adams, appeared in front of a press conference alongside Paisley, at Stormont in Belfast. The two men announced that a new Northern Ireland Executive was to be formed on 8 May 2007 under the joint aegis of Paisley and Sinn Féin’s Martin McGuinness, as First Minister and Deputy First Minister respectively. These two episodes, separated by a quarter a century, offer a snapshot of the transformation that Sinn Féin has undergone over the intervening period. It has grown from a pariah party on the fringe of the political spectrum to being a political force on both sides of the Irish border. Over the same period, the internal dynamics of mainstream Irish republicanism have been altered out of all recognition. Once, that republicanism was defined almost entirely by the violent ‘armed struggle’ of the Irish Republican Army (IRA). Yet, in 2005, the IRA had announced a formal end to its armed campaign and completed the handover of its arsenal of weaponry.2 In so doing, it had effectively brought to a conclusion the ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ strategy of the ‘Provisional’ Irish republican movement.3 In 1981, the impromptu rhetorical flourish of a senior republican, Danny Morrison, 1

2 The Long March

when speaking to Sinn Féin’s annual ard fheis (party conference), had coined the phrase that best articulated the dual nature of the republican movement thereafter.4 The ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ had neatly encapsulated republicanism’s fusion of Sinn Féin’s political activity and IRA violence. Viewed against this background, the events of 2005 appeared to show a republican movement that was definitively setting aside such dualism. In place of ‘the Armalite and the ballot box’ strategy there was to be something resembling a ‘ballot box alone’ approach. Sinn Féin was henceforth to be freed from the IRA’s shadow and allowed to emerge as the principal (if not only) vehicle of mainstream Irish republicanism. The purpose of the present study, in the first instance, is to analyse the way in which this political transformation took place. It is a transformation that saw Sinn Féin develop from being a ‘minor player’ on both sides of the Irish border (on the brink of extinction in the Republic of Ireland) to a situation where it is both the leading nationalist party in Northern Ireland (with one of its members serving as co-Premier of Northern Ireland) and, simultaneously, a political force in the Irish Republic. Faced with so dramatic an evolution in character, it seems only natural to ask how it was achieved; to examine the various stages in the creation of the modern ‘Sinn Féin’ party. The objective here, though, is to provide more than a simple narrative of the rise of Sinn Féin. For one thing, this is because such accounts already exist. More importantly, it is because the aim is to answer the question of ‘why’, rather than merely ‘how’. In so seeking, a key contention is that Sinn Féin, as a party, was somewhat distinct from other, ‘normal’, political parties throughout the period in question. That this should have been so was a function of its existence within a broader republican movement. The parallel, and for much of the time more dominant, branch was that of the IRA. The truth of this could be gauged from an internal republican ‘Staff Report’, seized by the Irish Gardai (police) in 1977, which left little doubt as to the relative authority of the two organizations. Sinn Féin, it stated simply, ‘should come under Army [IRA] organizers at all levels’.5 Thereafter, there seems little doubt that the report’s instruction was carried out, with individuals, from the top to the bottom of the party, holding duel Sinn Féin-IRA membership. Hence, the Irish Defence Minister, Willie O’Dea, stated in February 2005 that the Irish government was, ‘no longer prepared to accept the farce that Sinn Féin and the IRA are separate. They are indivisible.’6 For this reason, it is useful to recall the oft-quoted remark made, in 1928, by the future Irish Taoiseach (Prime Minister), Sean Lemass, with regard to Fianna Fáil. That party was, according to Lemass, a ‘slightly constitutional’ one.7 Such a description, it would seem, could just as equally be applied to Sinn Féin across the period under consideration here. Recognizing this is not necessarily to view the history of Sinn Féin as little more than an addendum to that of the IRA (as has frequently been the case). Nor is it to claim that

Introduction

3

every member of Sinn Féin was also an IRA activist. It is, however, to note that while Sinn Féin should be seen as an entity in its own right, the IRA cannot be simply erased from the picture; its presence was what made Sinn Féin unique. Furthermore, the reality of the interconnecting relationship between Sinn Féin and the IRA highlights the fact that the party has been driven by a central ‘ideological objective’ that has been foregrounded in the minds of its members. Sinn Féin’s close association with an organization engaged in armed activity has ensured that party members are more cognizant of republicanism’s ultimate ‘ideological objective’ than they might be otherwise. That objective, defined as a desire to achieve ‘a 32-County democratic socialist republic and the end of British rule in Ireland’, permeates Sinn Féin in a way that marks it out as exceptional.8 Thus, while all members of political parties, to some degree, act in pursuit of ‘ideological objectives’, such objectives resonate within Sinn Féin in a much more immediate fashion. The truth of this can be seen in the assertions of one Sinn Féin elected representative, who declared in all seriousness in interview, ‘When I get up in the morning I’m very conscious that I’m trying to free Ireland.’9 It is hard to imagine another political party, in either Ireland or Britain, whose members could similarly make such statements in earnest, even among those other parties that define themselves as being ‘Irish republican’, such as Fianna Fáil. For the latter, the goal of Irish unity is viewed in more intangible, aspirational terms, as opposed to being something that a party could actively try to achieve in the here-and-now. For Sinn Féin, by contrast, the reverse has been and is true; it is a party in which the primacy of the ‘ideological objective’ has remained explicit. Moreover, it is for precisely this reason that the ‘why’ of Sinn Féin’s development is important. The argument of this study is that the political evolution of Sinn Féin can only be properly understood when placed in the context of the party’s ‘ideological objective’ and the effort to achieve it. On this basis, an examination of Sinn Féin’s ‘political strategy’ becomes valuable; for ‘strategy’ is the bridge that connects otherwise remote objectives with ‘everyday’ politics. Ultimate ideological objectives define immediate strategic objectives, which, in turn, circumscribe politics on the ground. Given the centrality of Sinn Féin’s ideological objectives, the party can only be properly comprehended if its actions are considered on a strategic level; it is this that the present work seeks to do. In so seeking, this study goes beyond those existing accounts that have merely narrated the development of the modern Sinn Féin party, often within the context of the wider history of republicanism. A classic example in this regard is the work of Brian Feeney, which provides an analysis of ‘a hundred turbulent years’ of Sinn Féin. There are obvious benefits to Feeney’s approach; it allows, for instance, for straightforward comparisons between the various incarnations of Sinn Féin.10 Yet, with the emphasis on the comparative

4 The Long March

context, Feeney’s account of the latest manifestation of the party moves little beyond the realm of the descriptive. Furthermore, it is also distorted, as much writing on Sinn Féin has been, by its underlying ‘peace process’oriented perspective.11 In other words, it tends to view changes within the party entirely through the prism of the 1990s’ Northern Irish peace process. It thereby creates a teleology by which all developments within republicanism are seen against the backdrop of an almost inexorable shift from ‘armed struggle’ to ‘constitutional politics’. This tendency towards a teleological reading of recent republican history is even more pronounced in Ed Moloney’s A Secret History of the IRA. On the one hand, it should be noted, Moloney’s study is perhaps the foremost empirical account of modern republicanism available at the current time.12 Its numerous insights into what remains a highly secretive organization offer an unparalleled glimpse into the inner workings of the republican movement, as well as hitherto unknown details of its evolution. For this reason, it can scarcely be overlooked in any attempt to cast fresh light on the history of Sinn Féin. On the other hand, as shall be shown, Moloney’s interpretive framework is, at root, highly problematic. Not only does he suffer from a desire to see everything through the lens of the ‘peace process’, but also this is coupled with a need to understand almost all developments within republicanism as stemming from the assumed machinations of Gerry Adams. Without doubt, the centrality of Adams to any effort to examine the republican movement is beyond dispute. However, the portrayal of the Sinn Féin President offered by Moloney attributes seemingly impossible levels of foresight and manipulative ability to the man. And the contention that Adams was, from as early as 1982, secretly working behind the backs of his colleagues to bring an end to the IRA’s armed struggle is extremely difficult to sustain. Certainly, as shall hopefully be demonstrated here, it requires the reader, at various points, to reject other more plausible explanations for the actions of Adams and his party. In addition, it would seem to discount the role undoubtedly played by contingent events and the ‘accidents of history’. It might further be added that the length of time it allegedly took Adams to manoeuvre republicans into a position where they ended the IRA campaign (twelve years by Moloney’s reckoning) would appear to contradict the image of a man well skilled in the arts of manipulation, which is so integral to the cogency of Moloney’s own argument. Consequently, while the present work often utilizes, or seeks to build upon, revelations contained within Moloney’s work, it does so from an outlook that is not constrained by Moloney’s meta-narrative. Another reason for this is the fact that, unlike either Moloney or Feeney, this study is not an attempt to explain the genesis and outworking of the peace process on the republican side. This is not to say, of course, that the peace process is not a vital part of the story; indeed, as will be seen, Sinn Féin’s

Introduction

5

transformation over this period could scarcely be understood without it. Yet, the contention here is that the peace process should not be seen as the whole story. It is not sufficient, in and of itself, to explain an evolution that began long before the idea of the peace process emerged. Instead, it is necessary to examine the development of Sinn Féin as an autonomous political entity in its own right. There are elements of this in both Feeney and Moloney, but a more thorough-going attempt to do this was made by Henry Patterson in his seminal The Politics of Illusion: A Political History of the IRA. Patterson’s analysis of what he terms ‘social republicanism’ and the republican movement in the years since Irish partition, concentrates attention on the nature of republican ‘politics’ beyond the armed struggle. In particular, his examination of the ideas put forward by Gerry Adams and his supporters in the mid-1970s, highlights the extent to which they were drawing on themes latent within republican ideology and history. He thus draws out the extent to which republicans must be regarded as ‘political’ beings.13 In so doing, there are clear similarities between Patterson’s account and Richard Bourke’s later contribution to the subject. Bourke also emphasizes that republicans should be viewed as rational actors, pursuing avowedly political objectives. He shows how republicans, believing themselves to be the true ‘democrats’ in Ireland, are best characterized as political ideologues.14 Bourke, however, does not go beyond this insight to examine, in detail, how the ‘big’ political ideas of republicans translated into the specific policy positions of Sinn Féin; or how the strategic thinking of the republican leadership shifted over time. Similarly, although there is some consideration of this policy aspect in Patterson, it is not done on any systematic basis. In addition, Patterson’s account is limited temporally by simple virtue of the fact that most of the research for his work was conducted during the 1980s (though a second edition did come out later, this merely added an extra chapter explaining the origins of the peace process). The literature, therefore, is lacking an investigation of Sinn Féin’s political development during the 1990s, a time when, according to at least one Sinn Féin member, this advanced exponentially.15 The recent books by Agnès Maillot, on the one hand, and Gerard Murray and Jonathan Tonge, on the other, do, to a degree, fill the gaps left by Patterson in terms of the evolution of Sinn Féin’s political personality into the 1990s and beyond.16 Nonetheless, neither work fully, or adequately, explains the phenomenon that is Sinn Féin. Hence, while Murray and Tonge effectively elucidate many of the policy changes that Sinn Féin undertook in this era, they do so from the perspective of that party’s rivalry with the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP) in Northern Ireland. Viewed in this way, Sinn Féin’s evolution becomes part of the wider story of the development of ‘northern’ Irish nationalism. For Murray and Tonge, Sinn Féin and the SDLP should be seen as representative of the divergent and conflicting forces that emerged within northern nationalism in response to the outbreak

6 The Long March

of the ‘Troubles’ in 1969–70. Whereas the latter is assumed to personify a desire to reconstitute Northern Ireland’s government on the basis of equality and the active involvement of the minority nationalist community (through institutionalized power-sharing), the former is taken to be the embodiment of a wholesale rejection of the state and the drive to bring its destruction. Seen in such a light, the subsequent history of the ‘Troubles’ (and that of Sinn Féin) is understood as essentially a battle for supremacy within the nationalist community, between two conflicting ideologies. Moreover, it is a battle in which it is assumed that the SDLP was triumphant. As Murray and Tonge repeatedly emphasize, the central principles of the Good Friday Agreement in 1998 had essentially been at the heart of the SDLP’s political vision since its inception in 1970. Sinn Féin’s acceptance of the Agreement, therefore, can be construed as a tacit acknowledgement of republicanism’s ideological defeat. Therein, however, lies the central problem with the argument put forward by Murray and Tonge. Their supposition that Sinn Féin and the wider republican movement have, to all intents and purposes, accepted defeat, runs, as this study will show, contrary to the evidence. Indeed, the ‘defeat hypothesis’ rests on an understanding of what the Good Friday Agreement represents to the republican movement, which is almost wholly at variance with the way Sinn Féin has acted since 1998. That Murray and Tonge nonetheless arrive at such a conclusion is, to a significant degree, a function of their almost exclusive focus on Sinn Féin as a ‘northern’ entity. In this they are hardly alone. Rather, the overwhelming majority of the literature that has considered Sinn Féin’s development up to this point has done so from the standpoint of the ‘Troubles’ (be that in terms of its relationship with the IRA, the conflict, or more recently the peace process). The central difficulty with such an approach, though, is that it again fails to appraise the republican movement on its own terms. Sinn Féin has always considered itself to exist across the whole island. This belief sits at the heart of what the party’s republicanism entails. Its members see themselves as belonging to a ‘32-county’ party, promoting the cause of a ‘32-county’ Irish state. Still, for too long, the party’s failure to build a support-base in the Republic of Ireland has obscured the extent to which Sinn Féin has pursued what Patterson (in this regard, a notable exception to the rest of the literature) has termed a ‘southern strategy’.17 Indeed, it is not an exaggeration to say that this ‘southern strategy’ has been utterly central to Sinn Féin’s project over the last two and a half decades; a fact indicated as early as 1977, when a senior republican, Jimmy Drumm, delivered a speech (written by Gerry Adams and Danny Morrison) that signalled as much.18 In the course of that address, Drumm pointedly rejected ‘the reformist notion that “Ulster” is the issue’ and claimed that ‘a successful war of liberation cannot be fought exclusively on the backs of the oppressed in the Six Counties’. What republicans needed to achieve instead, Drumm stated, was ‘a positive tie-in with the mass of the Irish people’; the majority of whom, of course, resided in the southern Irish

Introduction

7

state. In the years after Drumm’s speech, as will be shown, this focus on the south remained an enduring part of Sinn Féin’s political mission; so much so that an understanding of the party’s development over the last twenty-five years is simply not possible without full consideration of its position and aspirations in the Republic of Ireland. This is something that Agnès Maillot’s book does seek to address, as it examines Sinn Féin as a political ‘party’, both north and south. The party’s various policy positions are explored in some depth and, in so doing, a very real dearth of material on this topic is partially remedied. Nevertheless, Maillot offers little in the way of a holistic framework for viewing modern Sinn Féin’s development over the whole period of its existence. Through its focus on the party’s policies as they were constituted in 2005, her account does little to impart a sense of the shifts that occurred during the previous two and a half decades. Furthermore, to some extent, Maillot falls into the trap of treating Sinn Féin as a ‘normal’ political party, with all the problems that this creates. In particular, there is no significant attempt to tie the evolution of Sinn Féin’s policies to the strategic objectives of the wider republican movement. Recognition of these core objectives and the way they have interplayed with the politics of the party at any given moment, as this book shall demonstrate, is indispensable if a fuller understanding of the currents driving Sinn Féin’s political transformation is to be achieved. With this in mind, several other works within the present corpus of literature on Sinn Féin should be mentioned. First Mike Smith’s analysis of the ‘military strategy of the Irish Republican Movement’ is suggestive of how considerations of strategy should be applied to the study of republicanism.19 His account, however, while excellent in identifying the various strategic goals of the IRA and the way in which it sought to realize them, is less useful when considering the rise of Sinn Féin. The latter is noted, as are the potential strategic benefits for the republican movement, but the mechanics and character of the rise of the political party are not fully explored. In addition, the strategic goals that underscore the politics of the peace process for Sinn Féin are largely ignored by Smith in favour of a straightforward dichotomy between armed struggle and political activity. Malachi O’Doherty, by contrast, in The Trouble with Guns: Republican Strategy and the Provisional IRA, is more willing to contemplate the strategic thinking of Sinn Féin, though his focus is (as the title of his book suggests) almost entirely on the party’s relationship with the IRA.20 O’Doherty provides almost no assessment of the ‘politics’ of the party as they have developed in either the north or the south. Indeed, Sinn Féin’s aims and development in the Republic of Ireland are studiously ignored by both Smith and O’Doherty, each of whom adopts a purely ‘Troubles-based’ approach to the party’s history. The same cannot be said of Kevin Rafter, whose volume, Sinn Féin 1905– 2005: In the Shadow of Gunmen, does focus attention on both the electoral history and future prospects of the party in the Republic of Ireland. As the

8 The Long March

title of his work suggests, Rafter also charts some of the key moments in the evolution of Sinn Féin and the party’s relationship with the IRA. And his central argument is one that accords with the conclusions offered within the present work; namely, that under Gerry Adams and his colleagues, Sinn Féin has experienced an ‘era of pragmatism’ in which the flexibility of the republican leadership has been paramount.21 A similar view is imparted through the work of Richard English, though there, this is simultaneously allied to a greater emphasis on the continuities that tie the recent republican movement to previous manifestations of the phenomenon. English’s extensive treatment of this subject in Armed Struggle: A History of the IRA and Irish Freedom: A History of Irish Nationalism in Ireland provides the essential context for the emergence of modern-day republicanism. While the former volume sets that republicanism into the history of the tradition dating back to 1916, the latter locates it within the longue durée of Irish nationalism broadly conceived. In both instances, attention is focused on the political ideas and concepts that have underpinned Irish republicanism. At the same time, this is combined with an implicit recognition that, for much of its existence, republicanism has been an ideology of failure. Thus, even as he acknowledges the ‘political’ character of successive incarnations of the IRA, English also recognizes that the organization has not endowed Ireland with a happy legacy.22 This sense, as to the destructiveness and essential futility of much of what has been done in the name of Irish republicanism, is also conveyed by Rogelio Alonso’s The IRA and Armed Struggle. Alonso’s book contains a wealth of interview data with former republican prisoners, many of whom now question their past actions; and its ultimate message is captured in the words of one such prisoner, who admits, ‘I don’t think it was worth it.’23 What all of the above underlines, however, is the extent to which no existing account offers a comprehensive picture of Sinn Féin’s political evolution in the last two and a half decades. There is nothing that examines that party as a discrete entity in its own right, operating within a specific context and in a particular manner. Snapshots there are, but nothing that conveys the multifaceted and complex nature of Sinn Féin: the fact that it is a single political party, yet part of a wider movement; the way in which it is rooted in Northern Ireland and the conflict there, yet also fundamentally oriented towards the Republic of Ireland; or the fact that it is involved, at an increasing number of levels, in ‘normal’ politics, yet simultaneously continues to pursue higher, strategic goals. It is this gap that the present study seeks to fill. In attempting to place the political evolution of Sinn Féin in its broader strategic context, an inevitable consequence has been a focus on the thoughts and statements of the republican leadership. That this should have been so is a function of the fact that it is the people who comprise the leadership who define the strategy of the wider movement. They, themselves, act in the

Introduction

9

manner of a bridge, linking the ‘daily politics’ of Sinn Féin with the ultimate ideological objective of the movement. As one of their number, Jim Gibney, puts it, ‘their responsibility is to nationally develop the struggle and to make the big decisions . . . strategic decisions’.24 Furthermore, at such times as the party has altered its politics, or shifted strategic direction altogether, it is the leadership that has been faced with the task of persuading ‘ordinary’ party members of the merits of any new approach (usually by arguing that the latter would better aid the realization of the party’s core objectives). Where possible, therefore, the views of leadership figures have been sought retrospectively, via a series of interviews the author held with various senior republicans (as well as more rank-and-file members), several of whom have not been interviewed before and at least one of whom will not be interviewed again. With regard to the latter, the author talked at length with Denis Donaldson, prior to his exposure as a British ‘spy’ and subsequent murder, in 2005–6. Alongside such interviews, the author made recourse to a variety of written sources. Of particular interest, for example, were the proceedings of internal party conferences and internal party strategy documents. The discussions and ideas held therein, perhaps not intended for public consumption, provided important insights into the party leadership’s collective political thinking. Extensive use was also made of the numerous speeches, statements and articles produced by republican leadership figures. Beyond this focus on the republican leadership, meanwhile, this work considers the ‘daily politics’ of Sinn Féin as they evolved in practical terms over the period in question. Such policy papers as exist (which for the earlier part of the period is not many) were looked at in this regard. In addition, significant analysis of the Sinn Féin newspaper, An Phoblacht/Republican News, was carried out. As the weekly record of the ‘living’ party, this proved to be an invaluable resource for determining party behaviour on the ground and measuring any gap that might exist between rhetoric and reality. Building upon the foregoing intellectual and methodological foundations, this book takes as its chronological start point 1981 – the year that Danny Morrison first articulated the ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ concept. More significantly, this was also the year that saw the current-day republican movement engage with electoral politics for the first time. The impact of the 1981 hunger strike, the election of the lead hunger striker, Bobby Sands, as a Member of Parliament (MP) for Westminster and his subsequent death are widely regarded as decisive moments in the history of republicanism. The details of these events have been dealt with at length elsewhere, but suffice to say here that they provided the catalyst for the transformative process, out of which the modern Sinn Féin party emerged.25 This verdict is captured in the words of Jim Gibney, a senior republican figure, who maintains that, ‘for a lot of republicans that election result changed the world’.26 This is not to say, it should be emphasized, that 1981 can be taken as some kind of immutable ‘year zero’ for republican ‘politics’. The movement

10 The Long March

was not simply an atavistic, apolitical ‘throw-back’ prior to that point. On the contrary, as Bourke and Patterson have underlined, republicans were always ‘political’ beings with ‘political’ objectives, even when engaged solely in armed struggle.27 The centrality of the latter for the early members of the ‘Provisional’ movement represented not the complete absence of ‘politics’, but rather ‘politics’ of a different type. While their goals may have been utopian and their methods violent and extreme, this should not mask the extent to which they were rational actors with a coherent political ideology. Obviously, such an assertion may not hold true for all who declared themselves to be ‘republican’ (particularly in the early 1970s), but, crucially, it does for those who formed and subsequently led the ‘Provisional’ republican movement. What 1981 heralded for these ‘Provisionals’, therefore, was not a conversion to ‘politics’, but a shift in the manner in which their ‘politics’ were expressed. Following Smith, the ‘mono-military approach’ with its focus solely on the IRA, was now replaced with an ‘integrated strategy’ that combined continued military action with more recognizable political activity.28 Even then, however, it would be a mistake to assume that the change of direction within the republican movement occurred overnight with the events of the hunger strike. On the contrary, as has been demonstrated in detail elsewhere, there had been internal arguments in favour of a new approach to politics, at least as far back as 1975.29 Such arguments had, from the start, been identified with a group of ‘young Turks’, at the centre of which sat Gerry Adams (albeit initially in the guise of the writer ‘Brownie’).30 It was this same group that led the transformation of the republican movement after 1981. In light of the difficulties that republicans had encountered in the mid- to late 1970s, Adams and his supporters had, from that point, begun calling for the restructuring of the republican movement, so as to enable it to prosecute a ‘long war’ against the British.31 In line with this, they had urged, on the one hand, the reorganization of the IRA (along more ‘cellular’ lines), to allow it to better prosecute a terrorist campaign. On the other, they had pushed for the reinvigoration of Sinn Féin. Their impulse with the latter was to end what they later referred to as the ‘spectator politics’ of the republican movement.32 What they sought was a situation in which the continuing armed struggle of the IRA would be complemented by a new form of political pressure, generated by a resurgent Sinn Féin. As ‘Brownie’ noted in 1976, what was required was ‘the complete fusing of military and political thinking’.33 In this way, the ideas articulated by the ‘young Turks’ from the mid-1970s served as the progenitors of what became the ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ approach. The former effectively paved the way for the semi-formal adoption of the latter. An acknowledgement of this perhaps raises the question of why 1981 should be appropriate as a chronological parameter for the present work, as opposed to, say, the IRA’s 1975 ceasefire, or Jimmy Drumm’s 1977 Bodenstown speech. The answer to this, however, lies in the fact that, while the

Introduction

11

‘Brownie’ era undoubtedly contained the intellectual antecedents for posthunger strike republicanism, it was only in the aftermath of the hunger strike that the movement began to view ‘politics’ as a serious project. Moreover, the character of ‘republican politics’ that emerged from the hunger strike period was fundamentally different from that originally envisaged by ‘Brownie’. For the election of Bobby Sands as an MP for Westminster gave the republican movement not just a taste for political activity, but, more importantly, a taste for electoral political activity. The distinction may appear a minor one, but it was crucial in determining the kind of Sinn Féin that developed thereafter. Adams and his supporters had previously argued earnestly that the republican movement should engage afresh with ‘everyday politics’. Yet, there had been little or no suggestion that this should entail republican candidates standing in elections. Prior to 1981, there was a pervasive notion within the movement that the latter led inexorably to the world of ‘normal’ politics, ‘reformism’ and ‘corruption’ (in the sense of the abandonment of ‘pure’ republican ideals). In the wake of Sands’ success, though, such fears were quickly put to one side. As Jim Gibney has stated, before 1981, ‘it was very, very difficult . . . to argue internally that the way forward, or one of the ways forward, was through standing Sinn Féin in elections’.34 It was only subsequent to the events of that year, Gibney maintains, that it became far easier to make such arguments. That this should have been so was not merely a function of the changing republican outlook on ‘politics’, but also a consequence of the shift in the internal balance of power in the republican movement, which the hunger strike facilitated. At one level, this came as a result of the significant increase in support for republicanism, which brought new people, with fresh perspectives, into the movement. As Daisy Mules, a long-time Sinn Féin activist from Derry, has noted, the hunger strike brought, ‘a big influx of people into Sinn Féin with a purely political agenda, as opposed to aligning themselves with and supporting the armed struggle’.35 Yet, not only was the overall composition of the movement altered, but also control of republicanism passed into new hands as well at this time. Previously, the ‘Provisionals’ had remained under the command of those men who had founded the movement; chief among whom were two southern republicans, Ruairi Ó Brádaigh and Daithi O’Conaill. Now, however, the hunger strike initiated a decisive internal power shift away from the Ó Brádaigh– O’Conaill leadership and towards their younger, predominantly northern, ‘young Turk’ rivals. And though there had been some signs of a gradual shift in favour of the ‘young Turks’ prior to 1981, it was the events of that year that provided a critical ‘tipping point’ in this process.36 The result was a visible ‘changing of the guard’ within the upper echelons of the republican movement. Hence, Adams’ close ally, Danny Morrison, replaced Sean Ó Brádaigh (the brother of Ruairi), as Sinn Féin’s director of publicity; Jim Gibney became the party’s national organizer; Tom Hartley, another close

12 The Long March

supporter of Adams, continued to head up the influential Prisoner of War Department that the party had created during the hunger strike; and Gerry Adams himself was eventually installed as Sinn Féin president, in place of the resigning Ruairi Ó Brádaigh, in 1983.37 The tangible success of the methods they had championed empowered Adams and his supporters and set the stage for their subsequent leadership of the republican movement. The hallmark of that leadership was to be the combined politico-military approach, to which both the ideas of ‘Brownie’ and the events of 1981 had pointed. With 1981 thus established as the start point for this study, it is worth affirming that 2007, as already intimated, provides the other chronological parameter. The events of that year, with, on the one hand, the party triumphing in Northern Ireland, where Martin McGuinness becoming Deputy First Minister, even as it suffered a serious electoral reverse in the Irish Republic, suggested that a distinct phase in the history of Sinn Féin had ended. The events of two years earlier, with the official end of the IRA’s armed campaign and the decommissioning of its weaponry, merely confirmed this. The period thereby enclosed was one in which the evolution of Sinn Féin was set against the backdrop of an IRA that was active, whether in practice, or more nominally (as was the case when it moved into ‘ceasefire mode’ from August 1994 to February 1996, and again from July 1997 onwards). As a consequence, the era 1981–2007 was one in which republicans can be said to have pursued an integrated ‘Armalite and ballot box’ approach. Furthermore, this period can also be considered a single unit in the present context, because of its association with a distinct leadership of the republican movement. Within that leadership, as has already been indicated, the ‘standout’ figure was Gerry Adams. The most prominent of the ‘young Turks’ of the mid- to late 1970s, Adams became the single most influential republican of his generation. With this in mind, it is somewhat inevitable that Adams will loom large within the current work. That said, it would be wrong to reduce any examination of Sinn Féin’s development between 1981 and 2007 to little more than an extension of Gerry Adams’ biography. For, as gifted a politician as he undoubtedly is, he did not act alone. Rather, as he himself admits, he was part of a ‘small cadre of leadership activists’ that took a ‘collective approach to problem-solving and developing strategy and tactics’.38 The exact size and composition of that leadership appears to have fluctuated (as might be expected), over the course of the two and a half decades under examination. Nevertheless, there have been strong elements of continuity. Little analysis of the republican leadership, as a group, has been made elsewhere; for this reason, it is perhaps useful to briefly consider it here and to attempt to construct a short, semi-sociological profile of those who controlled the movement. According to one enduring leadership figure, Jim Gibney, the ‘national leadership’ of the republican movement has tended to comprise a group of around fifty people.39 It is clear, however, that different people have played

Introduction

13

roles of varying importance at different times. Furthermore, it is apparent that among so large a group of people there are some who are ‘more equal than others’. Indeed, Gerry Adams has suggested as much, by identifying a ‘small core group’ that, from an early stage, handled the sort of issues that would later be bound up with the peace process.40 Focused around the person of Adams himself, this group has been described by more than one writer as his ‘think tank’ of advisers.41 Though informal and set apart from the official structures of Sinn Féin, it was this group of what might be termed ‘core strategy personnel’ that determined the overall strategic direction of Sinn Féin and the broader republican movement. As Appendix I illustrates, members of the group have included (in addition to the Sinn Féin President), Martin McGuinness, Martin Ferris, Ted Howell, Brian Keenan, Mitchel McLaughlin, Pat Doherty, Gerry Kelly, Declan Kearney, Jim Gibney and Tom Hartley. Beyond this ‘core group’ were others who, at one time or another, seemed close (on occasion, very close) to the republican leadership, but whose presence, or stature, was essentially limited in nature. Among these more ‘fringe’ leadership figures were various former prisoners (men such as Seanna Walsh, Leo Green, Padraig Wilson, Brendan McFarlane, Martina Anderson and Laurence McKeown), whose collective commitment to the republican cause was considered to be beyond reproach. The support of such people often proved vital to the leadership during the years of the peace process, when it came to persuading the republican grassroots of the merits of that process, especially at ‘painful’ points that required republican concessions. At the same time, the leadership ‘fringe’ also contained those individuals whose status within the movement was based largely, or indeed solely, upon political work within Sinn Féin. Their republicanism was not defined primarily by a ‘military record’. People such as Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin, Sean Crowe, Arthur Morgan, Bairbre de Brun, Alex Maskey, Conor Murphy and, latterly, Mary-Lou McDonald, could all be categorized as such. Though Morgan, Maskey and Murphy had spent time in jail, they were generally better known as political figures, rather than military men. A final category that cannot be ignored in any attempt to separate out the various strands that comprise the overall republican leadership is that of the ‘behind-the-scenes’ figures. On the one hand, this included people who might, in another context, be labelled ‘apparatchiks’. Such people were little known outside the movement, but often played a crucial role, acting as the conduit by which the decisions of the ‘core group’ were transmitted to the wider republican base. Among them were people such as Denis Donaldson (until his exposure as a British spy in 2005), Aidan McAteer, Richard McAuley, Siobhan O’Hanlon (until her death in 2006), Chrissie McAuley and Rita O’Hare. On the other hand, ‘behind-the-scenes’ figures would also have to include those purely IRA figures who were concerned almost exclusively with the military organization. Recognition of their place within the republican leadership, though of less immediate importance here, again serves to

14 The Long March

re-emphasize the fact that Sinn Féin was, throughout this period, part of a broader republican movement, of which the IRA was very much a part. This attempt to subdivide the republican leadership into easily definable categories should not, it must be stressed, be applied too rigidly. As has already been noted, it is likely that an individual’s position and importance within the leadership varied over time, in response to both events and how that individual performed. For this reason, Appendix I should be viewed as a characterization of the republican leadership as it stood in the latter phases of the peace process, rather than across the entire period. Its main purpose is to illustrate the spread and diversity of that leadership. That said, however, one category that remained relatively stable was that of ‘core strategy personnel’. This ‘core group’ was largely unchanged from the late 1970s onwards; the notable exception being that of Danny Morrison, who was a key figure until he left the movement in the aftermath of his arrest and imprisonment in 1990. A consequence of this continuity of leadership at the highest level is the fact that the actions of the Irish republican movement can be interpreted as having possessed a certain coherence. In the absence of internal power struggles of the sort that produce policy inconsistencies, contradictions and u-turns, the movement instead operated in a relatively logical, linear manner. This is not to say that there were no ambiguities to ‘Provisional’ republicanism. On the contrary, there most certainly were many. Yet, such ambiguities were largely the deliberate creation of a leadership that was only too aware of them. For the most part they were not the product of a situation wherein the ‘left hand’ did not know (or could not stop), what the ‘right hand’ was doing. Thus, the movement tended to speak with only ‘one voice’, even if that voice varied depending on the audience to which it was speaking. That this was so was a function of the essential unity of the leadership; a unity forged, in the words of Jim Gibney, in, ‘the crucible of conflict . . . in the heat of the battle’.42 A fellow former member of the leadership, Danny Morrison, agrees with this assessment, remarking that, ‘the struggle itself and what happened – burying comrades, organizing the struggle, witnessing the hunger strike – all acted as a powerful, powerful cement upon these people’.43 The shared memory and experience of this ‘struggle’ served to weld the republican leadership together to the point where they were unlike any other political leadership in Ireland. Their ‘closeness’ could almost be described as that of a ‘kin-kith’ group, for as Jim Gibney explains: When you’re with people in very difficult situations, you depend on them for your life. And when you depend on somebody for your life, a bond – a trust – comes out of that . . . The leadership that is there today – both the public and the not-so-public leadership – [consists of] people who have been through the mill together, so to speak. There’s a closeness arising out of that.44

Introduction

15

Within the broader milieu of the ‘struggle’, one aspect appeared to be especially influential in creating such bonds: the prison experience. Danny Morrison thus observes that, ‘most of the people who are in [the] Belfast [leadership] have been in jail several times, including internment’.45 As Appendices I and II demonstrate, the same could be said of their counterparts from Derry and, indeed, across the entire leadership. The importance of this, as Morrison affirms, is that republicans commonly believed that a stretch in prison, ‘underlined . . . and strengthened [a person’s] commitment’.46 An individual’s prison record served as a badge of credibility within the republican movement; credibility born of the fact that prisoners were deemed to have shown their loyalty to the ‘cause’ by sacrificing their personal freedom to it. Apart from those who were killed, it was argued that no one had given up as much for the ‘struggle’ as republican prisoners.47 The words of the writer Frank O’Connor seem quite apposite here. O’Connor once remarked that for an Irishman to say ‘He and I were in gaol together’ was rather like an Englishman saying ‘He and I were in Eton together’, but considerably more classy; within the ranks of republicanism, this formulation seems all the more true.48 Following such logic, prisoners and ex-prisoners were always afforded a special place within the wider republican movement. The simple fact of a republican having spent time in prison served as a kind of ‘degree’ on his/her ‘CV’ and cemented their position within the republican ‘family’. In this latter regard, in particular, it is striking that Danny Morrison’s memoir quotes approvingly from the opening pages of David Beresford’s book on the hunger strike. In so doing, Morrison records the words of one prisoner, who stated simply, ‘We were more than blanketmen: we were brothers.’49 Flowing from this, it would seem that the fact that so many members of the Adams–McGuinness leadership were themselves previously incarcerated and heavily involved in the conflict endowed them with quasi-familial ties. More broadly, meanwhile, it is clear that these personal histories bestowed them with a certain level of moral authority within the movement. In the words of Gerry Kelly (himself a former long-term prisoner), ‘The fact that I have been in jail, while it might be detrimental to you in any other society or country, means I’m looked upon here as someone who was prepared to put their livelihood, life, whatever, on the line . . . it gives you “street cred”.’50 That ‘street cred’ was something that proved invaluable for the Adams–McGuinness leadership as it oversaw the wholesale transformation of the republican movement between 1981 and 2007; it gave the leadership, what Kelly described as, a ‘credibility factor’.51 It is this that may begin to explain why it was that the Adams–McGuinness leadership proved so successful at maintaining the internal cohesion of the republican movement.52 Republicanism has had, to say the least, a fissiparous history; a fact recognized by Sinn Féin presidents and playwrights alike.53 Despite this, however, and more importantly, despite the deepseated changes that the ‘Provisional’ republican movement underwent, the

16 The Long March

leadership managed to hold on to a critical mass of its supporters. Consequently, though there were splits (most prominently those that created the ‘Continuity’ IRA/Republican Sinn Féin and the ‘Real’ IRA/32 County Sovereignty Movement factions in 1986 and 1997 respectively), these did not threaten the ‘Provisionals’ position as the majority shareholders within republicanism. As to why this should have been the case, the fact that most members of the republican movement trusted their leaders was crucial. It was this trust that made it possible for the latter to advocate major changes in republican strategy, even including an end to the IRA’s armed struggle, without the vast majority of republicans believing they were being sold out. What is more, this also ensured that the leadership itself did not believe it was engaged in a ‘sell out’ process. The internal ‘bonds of trust’ within the leadership meant that it was prepared to endorse and advocate momentous changes in strategic direction, without the fear that its ultimate ideological objective was being compromised. There was a collective belief within the leadership that, though their ‘means’ might have altered radically, the ‘ends’ they pursued remained constant. On the back of this, the leadership of ‘Provisional’ republicanism maintained the unity of the wider movement and that movement continued to be the dominant expression of republican opposition to the ‘British presence’ in Ireland. As Anthony McIntyre has pointed out, this continuing dominance was also founded upon the ‘Provisional’ republican movement’s control of the urban centres of Northern Ireland.54 This is not to deny that certain rural areas, particularly East Tyrone and South Armagh, were also important, but it is to recognize that the principal loci of the movement were Belfast and Derry. It was in these two cities that the conflagration of the ‘Troubles’ was first ignited and subsequently sustained. Control of Belfast and Derry was, thus, critical for the ‘Provisionals’ credibility as the foremost manifestation of republicanism. At the same time, such control was facilitated by the very centrality of the two cities to the events of the ‘Troubles’; for this meant they provided the movement with a steady supply of both ‘foot soldiers’ and ‘generals’. With regards to the latter, as Appendix II reflects, the overwhelming majority of those already identified as leadership figures within the republican movement hailed from one of these two urban centres. On this basis, the leadership has tended to be dubbed the ‘Adams–McGuinness leadership’ (as it will be henceforward here). Not only does such a label attest to the importance of the Belfast–Derry nexus, but also it highlights the two most pre-eminent figures of that leadership: Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness. Deaglán de Bréadún has elegantly captured the essence of the relationship between these two men, stating, ‘Adams is the strategist . . . McGuinness is the man with the power on the ground. Adams is the architect, McGuinness is the engineer.’55 Whatever the precise dynamic, there is no doubting that it was these two men together, representative of Belfast and Derry, who guided the republican movement on its evolutionary journey between 1981 and 2007.

Introduction

17

In attempting to illuminate the picture of Sinn Féin’s strategic evolution across this era, then, the succeeding analysis of the party breaks down the history of the period, between 1981 and 2007, into six broad phases. Each of these is taken to have heralded a significant shift in strategy. During the initial phase of politicization following the hunger strike, the aim was simply to create a party with a definable political personality. What emerged was a party that combined a radical, left-leaning edge with an appeal based on ‘ethnic nationalism’, that drew on the party’s identification with the interests of the northern nationalist community. Through this mixed political identity, coupled with strong levels of community activism, republicans sought to initiate a process of ‘republicanization’, whereby increasing numbers of people (both north and south) would come to accept the republican analysis and support the IRA’s armed struggle against British rule. By 1985, however, the failure of this ‘republicanization’ project had become clear. The halting of Sinn Féin’s political growth in Northern Ireland, allied to the continued failure of the party south of the Irish border, ensured that the Adams–McGuinness leadership felt a new approach was necessary. Consequently, Sinn Féin now sought to pursue a cross-party, pan-nationalist alliance with the other parties of Irish nationalism. By forging a connection with the SDLP in Northern Ireland and Fianna Fáil in the Republic, the party sought to end its isolation and head off the possibility of an ‘internal deal’ to solve the Northern Irish conflict. Alongside this, Sinn Féin also attempted to recast itself as both a ‘mainstream’ political party and a ‘force for peace’ in Ireland. While the leadership still believed that the military campaign was necessary, it realized that it was, to a degree, inhibiting Sinn Féin’s growth; for this reason, the ‘peace strategy’ of the party was seen as a potential antidote to the political problems arising out of the IRA’s campaign. By the early 1990s, however, it had become clear that the republican project had once again stalled. In response to various stimuli (the IRA’s declining military position, the changing international environment and Sinn Féin’s continued political failure across Ireland), the republican leadership therefore began to talk of a ‘new realism’ and looked for a way out of the armed conflict. In this context, the pan-nationalist alliance of the earlier period was re-imagined as a potential alternative method of ‘struggle’ for republicans. The ‘long war’ was now to be converted into the ‘long negotiation’, during which republicans would seek to maximize the strength of a ‘nationalist consensus’, to extract concessions from the British government. This was the essence of the ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’ (TUAS) document of 1994, which provided the strategic underpinning for the new approach and paved the way for the IRA’s ceasefires and the peace process. In the period that followed, republicans sought to maintain and increase both the ‘nationalist consensus’ and the political support they had won through their involvement in the peace process. In so doing, they were faced with the major challenge of having to sign a peace agreement that fell a

18 The Long March

long way short of republican goals. At the same time, though, the republican leadership also recognized that the Good Friday Agreement presented Sinn Féin with very real opportunities. In particular, by keeping Unionism off-balance, while simultaneously allowing the party to present itself as the foremost defender of both the peace process and the interests of northern nationalists, the Agreement facilitated significant political growth for the party. The result was that in 2001, Sinn Féin achieved a major strategic goal, when it established itself as the largest nationalist party in the north. In light of the British and Irish governments’ commitment to inclusive, powersharing government in Northern Ireland, Sinn Féin’s position as the majority shareholder within northern nationalism effectively gave it a ‘veto’ over the future of the province. With this objective achieved, the party’s strategic outlook shifted once more thereafter, so as to refocus the republican movement’s attention south of the Irish border. The lesson of the previous seven years there had been that Sinn Féin’s role in the peace process could fuel the party’s expansion in the Republic. The process afforded Sinn Féin regular publicity, profile and an air of respectability. Building on this, the party had also sought to enhance an image of itself as a mainstream political party that simultaneously maintained a radical, anti-establishment edge to its policies. By so doing, the republican leadership appeared to seek the role of ‘effective’ opposition for Sinn Féin in the Republic of Ireland. The benefits of this approach had been demonstrated in 2002, when Sinn Féin made significant electoral breakthroughs, claiming five seats in the Dáil and just missing out on several others. The sense of political growth was then maintained through European and local elections in 2004. The result was that, by the end of that year, the party could point to an electoral share approaching 10 per cent and the likelihood of further seat gains in the Irish Parliament. And yet, even as the party seemed to be on the cusp of major political success, its project appeared to falter, as republicans were damaged by accusations of continuing IRA paramilitarism and criminality. The fallout from the December 2004 Northern Bank robbery and the January 2005 murder of Robert McCartney in Belfast ended Sinn Féin’s previously dynamic expansion. It was these twin shocks that forced the Adams–McGuinness leadership to officially abandon the IRA, with the announcement of the formal end to the latter’s campaign and the completion of weapons decommissioning. In this way, the period of the overt ‘Armalite and ballot box’ approach was brought to a close and a ‘ballot box alone’ approach was sought. This approach succeeded in returning Sinn Féin to government in Northern Ireland. By early 2007, the party’s dominance of northern nationalism was confirmed and Martin McGuinness was able to take his place alongside Ian Paisley as the new Deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland. But it was not clear whether Sinn Féin could recover the political momentum it had lost south of the border. The Irish general election in June 2007 proved to be a

Introduction

19

sobering experience for the party and raised new questions as to the future direction of Sinn Féin. On this basis, the chapters that follow are divided according to the chronological subsections outlined above: 1981–5; 1985–90; 1990–7; 1997–2001; 2001–4; and 2004–7. Such periodization in itself, it should be noted, further helps mark out the present work as offering a fresh perspective as compared to the existing literature. Yet, these divisions are not intended to be rigid. They are instead meant merely to convey the sense of strategic shift, as it occurred from one era to another. Taking the period as a whole, the overall picture that emerges is one in which the evolution of Sinn Féin from a primitive, political appendage of the IRA into a sophisticated, modern political party in its own right can clearly be seen; an evolution in which, despite all the changes that have been wrought, the primacy of the republican movement’s ‘ideological objective’ has remained intact.

1 Building the Political Party and ‘Republicanization’, 1981–5

‘The development of an open, popular and relevant political party, which transcends partition and is based in all 32 counties, is as important as the continued resistance of the IRA.’ Gerry Adams1

Introduction The election of Bobby Sands as the MP for Fermanagh/South Tyrone in May 1981 ushered in a new era for Sinn Féin and the broader republican movement. It marked the point at which republicans embraced a new, electoral-driven approach to politics. This reality was confirmed by the announcement, following the death of Sands, that his election agent, Owen Carron, would stand for the again vacant seat. Given that republicans had previously claimed that Sands’ intervention represented a once-only ‘borrowing’ of the seat for the prisoners’ cause, Carron’s candidacy indicated that republican involvement in politics would be more enduring than first imagined; all the more so, as Kevin Rafter has noted, because Carron declared, when subsequently elected (as he was in August 1981, on the same ‘National H-Block/Armagh’ ticket as Sands), that he would stay on beyond the end of the hunger strike, but now as a Sinn Féin MP.2 In becoming the modern Sinn Féin party’s first elected representative at national level, Carron (despite the fact he was displaced at the subsequent 1983 British general election), set the stage for the 1981 Sinn Féin ard fheis, at which Danny Morrison made his proclamation of the ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ strategy.3 Furthermore, Carron’s victory was swiftly followed by others. In 1982, Sinn Féin secured over 10 per cent of the vote in elections to Secretary of State James Prior’s ‘rolling devolution’ Assembly for Northern Ireland. Not only did this represent a 2 per cent increase on the figure achieved by the ‘National H-Block/Armagh’ candidates a year earlier, but the party also won five seats.4 Then, at the 1983 General Election, while the party suffered the loss of Owen 20

Building the Political Party and ‘Republicanization’, 1981–5

21

Carron’s seat, it saw Gerry Adams elected as MP for West Belfast for the first time. More broadly, in that poll Sinn Féin’s overall vote again climbed (reaching some 13.4 per cent of the votes cast in Northern Ireland) and the party’s candidate for Mid-Ulster, Danny Morrison, could consider himself unlucky to have missed out on being elected by a mere 78 votes.5 There was, therefore, little doubting Sinn Féin’s arrival as a permanent political force in Northern Ireland. This string of successes helped guarantee the ‘electoral’ focus of the new political departure that Sinn Féin pursued in the years after 1981. At a strategic level, this ‘electoralism’ was now fused with the notion of ‘republicanization’ that ‘Brownie’ had first explored and Gerry Adams later articulated.6 Simply put, this held that the movement ought to use political involvement to spread a ‘republican’ analysis of the Northern Irish conflict, and, in this way, build ever-increasing levels of support for the republican cause. As Adams explained in a 1985 interview, a central aim was to create opportunities by which republicans could, ‘put our views on the national question across and then on the British presence and [thereby] republicanise the community’.7 The tangible expression of this ‘republicanization’ process, it was imagined, would be a Sinn Féin that was growing in strength and influence on either side of the Irish border; an outcome that was, it was assumed, likely to benefit the republican movement in various ways. ‘Republicanization’, for example, was imagined to be an effective antidote to the twin threats of criminalization and marginalization. By demonstrating that republicans had the support of a significant section of the electorate, the movement could more easily refute the accusation (frequently levelled by their opponents), that they were little better than gangsters, or criminals. Flowing from this, greater levels of sympathy and understanding for the republican cause could be expected to serve as an alternative source of political pressure behind republican goals. To use the military analogy (as republicans often did), a process of ‘republicanization’ raised the prospect of a ‘second front’ being opened against the British. The importance that republicans attached to this political ‘second front’ was a product of the vulnerability that they felt in relation to British initiatives designed to end the conflict. Such initiatives generally rested on an effort to reconstitute institutions of local government in Northern Ireland on a ‘power-sharing’ basis. Recognizing that there could be no return to the majority-rule governments of the old Stormont parliament, the British wished to establish arrangements for a mandatory governing coalition in the province between the ‘moderates’ from each community; a settlement attempted with the failed ‘Sunningdale’ Agreement of 1973–4, and at various points thereafter. The hope of successive British governments was that, in return for institutionalized power-sharing (usually allied to some form of cross-border ‘Irish dimension’), a growing section of the Catholic/nationalist community of Northern Ireland would give their consent to the province

22 The Long March

remaining within the United Kingdom, for as long as the Unionist demographic majority existed. This, it was imagined, would undermine support for the republican movement and eventually force the IRA to end its campaign. For their part, republicans saw the dangers they were likely to face in the event that an ‘internal deal’ of this nature was achieved in Northern Ireland. To some extent, the IRA’s campaign itself was believed to offer some defence against the realization of such a deal, because it kept Northern Ireland unstable and forced the British to, ‘govern in a direct colonial way’.8 Nevertheless, republicans also acknowledged that this ‘military veto’ could well prove insufficient in the event that a power-sharing agreement was reached that included ‘a party which appears to represent the nationalist population’.9 Indeed, Sean O’Callaghan records the words of one senior republican, who admitted frankly, ‘if they get an assembly in place in Northern Ireland with SDLP involvement, we’re finished’.10 Against this background, a key objective for Sinn Féin was the attainment of a ‘republican veto’ on political progress, as described by Gerry Adams in 1983. In an interview that year with Magill magazine, Adams outlined how such a veto could be constructed, by Sinn Féin closing the gap between itself and the SDLP and thereby reducing the latter’s ‘freedom to manoeuvre’. Eventually it was hoped that Sinn Féin might even catch up and then surpass the SDLP, so as to become, ‘the majority nationalist party’; an objective that had seemed more than plausible following the surge of support for republicans in the wake of the 1981 hunger strike.11 The vista imagined by the Adams–McGuinness leadership at this time was one in which Sinn Féin’s triumph over their constitutional rivals would force the British to ‘re-orientate their policies’, as they were ‘faced with the fact that the nationalist population of the North doesn’t want an “internal settlement”’.12 As Sinn Féin’s 1983 General Election literature stated, it was thought that the creation of a ‘Republican electoral veto’ in this manner would undercut, ‘British and Free State attempts to stabilise the 6 Counties [and] curtail the collaborationist SDLP’.13 What was being sought was a Sinn Féin ‘political’ veto, to supplement the ‘military’ version provided by the IRA. Together, it was imagined that these could act to narrow the range of policy options facing the British government, to the point where ‘their only option would be one of withdrawal’.14 In this way, the concept of the republican ‘political’ veto was wholly in keeping with the desire of the Adams–McGuinness leadership to fully integrate the republican movement’s political and military efforts. By ‘fusing’ these strands together, as ‘Brownie’ had described, the leadership looked to an interlocking approach, whereby the growth of Sinn Féin would prevent a political solution, even as the ongoing violent campaign of the IRA would, in the words of Martin McGuinness, ‘sicken’ the British into withdrawing from Ireland.15 Of considerable importance here was the fact that political development continued to be viewed as no substitute to the military campaign. On the

Building the Political Party and ‘Republicanization’, 1981–5

23

contrary, it was assumed that the latter would itself profit from the hoped-for process of ‘republicanization’, with greater support for the republican cause allowing the IRA to prosecute its armed struggle more effectively. Unquestionably, it was this armed struggle that still held pride of place within republican strategy during this period. What is more, no one in the Adams–McGuinness leadership was arguing otherwise. This was true even among those within the movement’s leadership who were foremost in advocating the new ‘political’ approach. Thus, Danny Morrison, one of the chief adherents of republican ‘politics’, could still declare in an article in Magill magazine, ‘one thing I have to emphasise, that all republicans are united in, is that electoral politics will not remove the British from Ireland. Only armed struggle will do that.’16 Elsewhere, Morrison (writing under a pseudonym), was equally adamant that, ‘there is no parliamentary road to a united Ireland’ and as a result, there was no question of politics being allowed to, ‘either prejudice the future or the primacy [emphasis added] of armed struggle’.17 With that said, what should be recognized, is the fact that the Adams– McGuinness leadership’s conception of precisely how it was that armed struggle would achieve British withdrawal, was significantly different from that which had prevailed within the republican movement during the early years of the ‘Troubles’. In this regard, the shift to the concept of a ‘long war’ in the late 1970s was critical. Whereas previously, republicans had spoken of ‘Victory in ’72’ and thought success to be imminent, now it was no longer imagined that the British Army would one day simply pack up and leave Ireland.18 Instead, the Adams–McGuinness leadership looked to a more drawn-out process; a process, crucially, that would inevitably have to involve negotiations between the IRA and the British government. As Sean O’Callaghan recalls from his time in the IRA in the early 1980s, ‘From the start, Adams and those guys knew that they would have to negotiate with the British . . . that at some stage there would have to be negotiations.’19 Yet, while the republican leadership had perhaps concluded that some form of negotiating process would ultimately have to occur, this should not be confused with a belief that the IRA’s campaign would have to be halted to facilitate this. On the contrary, their attitude was, as presented in an article in Sinn Féin’s newspaper, An Phoblacht/Republican News, in the mid-1980s, ‘if and when the situation presents itself, for negotiating a settlement – at some stage – the IRA’s attitude will be that it will talk and fight at the same time’.20 Sustaining this conviction was, on the one hand, a distinct analysis of the republican movement’s history going all the way back to the 1919–21 period and the experience of the original IRA. According to O’Callaghan: There had long been this belief in republican circles that the big mistake that was made in 1921 was that they stopped the war during the talks . . . that they should have carried on fighting throughout. And so, the republican leadership was very adamant that the IRA had to continue its

24 The Long March

campaign, until withdrawal had been secured, even if this meant fighting and negotiating at the same time.21 It might also be said that the more immediate experience of the 1975 truce doubtless served to reinforce this ‘lesson’ of history. On that occasion too, republicans had halted the armed campaign for what seemed in retrospect like little reward. In so doing, the then leadership was thought to have brought the movement to the brink of defeat; something of which the ‘young Turks’ in the Adams–McGuinness leadership had been fiercely critical.22 In addition to this historical perspective, though, Adams and McGuinness appear to have been heavily influenced by contemporary, international events as well. In this regard, the example of Vietnam appears to have carried particular resonance for the republican leadership; for that conflict, and especially its denouement, seemed to forcibly demonstrate the potency of a strategy involving both ‘fighting and talking’. After all, as one of the foremost analysts of the Vietnam war, Robert Thompson, has noted, what the Paris Peace talks (which ended US involvement in Vietnam) had shown was that: When it came down to ‘fighting while negotiating’ the advantage would lie with the side which knew exactly what its objectives were and which was still prepared to fight for them ‘unremittingly’ rather than with the side which was uncertain about its objectives and was, therefore, less inclined to continue fighting.23 O’Callaghan maintains that this ‘lesson’ of the Vietnam War was something of which the Adams–McGuinness leadership was only too aware. For this reason, ‘the Paris Peace talks were definitely being mentioned and discussed by Adams and those around him’.24 The aim of the republican leadership was to initiate their own process of ‘fighting while negotiating’, by which they might subject the British to their own ‘Vietnam moment’ and force them to finally leave Northern Ireland, just as the Americans had been forced to abandon South-east Asia in the 1970s. On the basis of such logic, therefore, it would seem incontrovertible that the Adams–McGuinness leadership viewed the IRA’s violent campaign as an indispensable part of the wider republican ‘struggle’ in this period. The practical effect of this was that the IRA continued to put itself at the forefront of that ‘struggle’, with various high-profile operations. While the ‘war’ continued in Northern Ireland, bombs at Harrods and Hyde Park in London in 1982 and 1983, and the attempt to blow up the entire British Cabinet at Brighton in 1984, were indicative of the republican determination to strike at the perceived heart of the British ‘establishment’.25 Through the maintenance and sporadic escalation of its campaign, the IRA sought to make itself, in the words of Gerry Adams, the ‘vital cutting edge’ that would force British withdrawal from Ireland.26

Building the Political Party and ‘Republicanization’, 1981–5

25

Underpinning this effort lay an unreconstructed republican ideology that posited the British as the root source of Ireland’s problems. As Adams testified, the relationship between Britain and Ireland was deemed to be ‘a colonial one’.27 The British were thought to have maintained this relationship through the creation and fostering of ‘bitter divisions’ and the institution of partition.28 With regards to the latter, this was said to be ‘the main means by which equality is denied us and the principal method by which self-determination is withheld from us’.29 As a result, it was partition that republicans sought to remove, through direct engagement with its British ‘sponsor’, via armed struggle. According to such a view, Unionists were believed to be fundamentally ‘Irish’, albeit Irish people deluded by a false sense of their own ‘British-ness’. ‘Unionism’ and ‘loyalism’ were assumed to be the product solely of the ‘artificial’ union with Britain. As creeds they were said to lack any significant political content of their own and be defined only by their ‘complete hollowness’.30 Indeed, republicans argued that, ‘the only tradition which has distinguished loyalism is one of religious bigotry and sectarianism’.31 Furthermore, such bigotry was alleged to have been engendered deliberately by the British and by the ‘prop which causes the sectarianism’; namely, the Union.32 For this reason, the argument ran, it behoved republicans to work directly to ‘break the British connection’, because, ‘only breaking the political will of the British to remain in Ireland . . . will affect the loyalist community’.33 Doing this, it was assumed, would force the ‘ “pro-British” national minority’ to, ‘face up to the reality of the situation’ and embrace a new future as part of a united Ireland.34 This kind of thinking also helps explain why it was that the Adams– McGuinness leadership was so quick to abandon the Eire Nua policy of the previous Ó Brádaigh–O’Conaill leadership. Not only were its formulaic pronouncements of what a ‘Sinn Féin government’ would do in the event of victory judged to be irrelevant to ‘daily politics’, but also its federal provisions (which included plans for a regional parliament of Ulster, Dáil Uladh, within a united Ireland), were considered by the ‘young Turks’ of the new leadership to be a ‘sop to unionism’.35 As Danny Morrison put it simply in an article in 1985, the Adams–McGuinness leadership opposed making compromises with loyalism . . . [because] I don’t think there is anything we can do – short of surrender – that is going to convince those presently tied to the philosophy of loyalism that we mean them well in a united Ireland. There is nothing we can do to convince them and I think it is pointless to waste energy trying.36 For Morrison and his colleagues in the leadership, the only possible solution to the ‘loyalist problem’ was to force British withdrawal. In the context of that withdrawal being attained, meanwhile, Morrison argued that Unionism/loyalism would split: ‘One side will adopt a pragmatic

26 The Long March

approach and break from loyalism . . . The other side will fight, pushing for a civil war, or some kind of repartition.’37 As to which faction was larger and as to the possible extent of any ensuing violence, it was assumed that these would be determined by the strength of the republican movement in the post-withdrawal environment. Hence, Gerry Adams declared elsewhere that, even though a British withdrawal could trigger conflict, loyalists, already destabilised by the effects of such a withdrawal, are more likely to come more quickly to terms with their new position if faced with an honest, principled opposition than they would if ‘opposed’ only by a bunch of compromised parties and minority republican groups.38 Adams’ words thus reveal an additional key rationale for the development of Sinn Féin as a political force; namely, the central role envisaged for the party in the effort to construct a settlement for a ‘Brit-less’ Ireland. To this end, it was considered vital that Sinn Féin’s growing political support not be confined to Northern Ireland. For the Adams–McGuinness leadership, the possibility of a confrontation with ‘loyalism’, in the aftermath of British withdrawal, demanded that Sinn Féin construct a support base on both sides of the Irish border. The building of this support base, then, was the central focus for Sinn Féin in this period. The attainment of this base, it was imagined, would fulfil several objectives of the republican movement: increased support for the IRA; the hindering of British efforts to create an ‘internal deal’ for Northern Ireland; the fostering of additional political pressure on the British to withdraw; and preparation for the anticipated ‘post-withdrawal’ situation. In this way, Sinn Féin, while remaining secondary to the IRA, was to operate in tandem with the armed organization, as part of a unified republican effort to achieve Irish unity.

The community-based, campaigning party Sinn Féin’s pursuit of its objectives required the development of a tangible political ‘personality’ for the party. The Adams–McGuinness leadership recognized that it was only through the creation of such a personality that the republican movement could realistically hope to engage afresh with the Irish ‘masses’. As Jimmy Drumm had outlined back in the mid-1970s, republicans needed to take, ‘a stand on economic issues and on the everyday struggles of the people’, in order to achieve a ‘positive tie in’ with those people.39 Yet, in seeking to establish just such a political character for Sinn Féin, Adams and his supporters were not working on an entirely blank canvas. This was particularly so in Northern Ireland, where the party and broader movement already enjoyed a well-established presence and role within certain local communities.

Building the Political Party and ‘Republicanization’, 1981–5

27

On one level, this ‘community role’ was a function of the de facto responsibility for ‘policing’, which republicans had assumed during the early years of the ‘Troubles’. With republican areas of Belfast and Derry turned, for a time, into ‘no go areas’ for the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) and British Army, it had fallen to the IRA to tackle crime and, especially, antisocial behaviour. Thereafter, even after the official collapse of the ‘no go areas’ in 1972, such districts had remained difficult for the security forces to enter and, as a consequence, republicans continued to be involved in ‘community policing’ – principally, through the euphemistically termed ‘civil administration’ department of the IRA.40 Republicans always argued that this policing role was one that was neither sought, nor enjoyed. Instead, it was to be viewed as a necessary evil. As an article for Sinn Féin’s An Phoblacht/Republican News in 1982, put it, ‘The IRA . . . would prefer that it didn’t have to engage in such measures but they are forced upon us by an oppressed community which can do without being oppressed from within by those who have no interest in peace or freedom and whose only interest is personal and selfish.’41 Such explanations should, of course, be treated with some caution. After all, the IRA was hardly likely to argue otherwise. Nevertheless, it seems probable that there was some genuine support for its actions within specific urban nationalist communities. Jeff Sluka’s anthropological account of life in the Divis Flats complex in West Belfast, for instance, offers some corroborative evidence to this effect.42 At the same time, however, it must be acknowledged that the IRA’s involvement in ‘community policing’ carried advantages for republicans. Not least in this regard was the significant level of social power that it bestowed on the republican movement. For, through their monopoly over the use of force in their ‘heartland’ communities, republicans were able to demarcate who belonged to a community and who did not. As Malachi O’Doherty has highlighted, this control over the boundaries of community identity helped to legitimize the IRA, allowing it to act as a community’s ‘guardian of conscience’.43 In addition, it served to embed the republican movement within local communities in precisely the way that ‘Brownie’ had previously envisaged. This, in turn, was something that could generate an increase in support for Sinn Féin. Further examination of the republican movement’s involvement in ‘community policing’ lies beyond the scope of the present study. The importance of this role in the present context, however, lies in the fact that it served as a notable precursor to the post-1981 development of Sinn Féin; for that development was, to a considerable degree, centred upon the party’s prominent position in local communities. Similar in this respect, was the other defining feature of the republican movement’s political pre-history: its participation in ‘community’, or ‘street’, politics in the years after the 1975 ceasefire. Ironically, given the criticism of it by the ‘young Turks’ around Gerry Adams, one of the lasting legacies of the IRA’s mid-1970s truce was the political presence it afforded republicans in nationalist communities; a presence

28 The Long March

made manifest by the creation of ‘Truce Incident Centres’. Established to monitor observance of the ceasefire, these centres quickly became hubs of local republican activity. Moreover, while the truce itself eventually broke down, the centres were maintained by Sinn Féin and transformed into the party’s ‘Advice Centres’. As Jesper Hejlesen has illustrated, by 1982, there were over thirty of these installations operating around Northern Ireland, with each, in effect, serving a dual purpose.44 On the one hand, the ‘Advice Centre’ furnished Sinn Féin with a local community headquarters. On the other, it provided a forum through which Sinn Féin could begin to offer a service to that community, acting as a primitive form of citizens’ advice bureau. In the words of long-time leadership figure, Jim Gibney, therefore, the centres were the first public network of institutions that Sinn Féin took hold of and rooted itself in. And they became the public face of Sinn Féin in a lot of localities . . . So they, I think, began the journey – the long, long journey – out of the backstreets, out of the shadows of the conflict, into a public manifestation of republican politics.45 It was upon this ‘Advice Centre’ foundation that the Adams–McGuinness leadership sought to build, in its attempt to develop the content of republican politics. This background in ‘informal policing’ and ‘community politics’ had an enduring affect on the nature of the political character that subsequently emerged in Sinn Féin. Growing out of an involvement in ‘agitational’, or ‘street’, politics at community level, the party maintained and carried forward a perception of itself as rooted in local communities. A sense of this can be gained from the later assertion of Jim Gibney that Sinn Féin, ‘expresses the politics of its community in the broadest sense . . . the community identity that Sinn Féin has is very strong’.46 A similar view is offered by the party’s European director (himself a former local councillor), Eoin O’Broin, who argues that Sinn Féin is ‘very much about community empowerment’.47 Rather than dismissing such claims as mere cant, it should be acknowledged that they constitute a vital part of what Sinn Féin believes itself to be about. Furthermore, it must be recognized that this focus on ‘community’ decisively coloured the character of Sinn Féin as it developed in the early 1980s; for a central facet of Sinn Féin’s embryonic political persona was a continued commitment to what O’Broin refers to as, ‘community-based activism’.48 In the context of the new political departure encouraged by the Adams–McGuinness leadership, the pre-existing activism of the party on this front was taken to new levels. Hence, much of the material contained within An Phoblacht/Republican News in this period had little to do with the ‘national’ or ‘constitutional’ questions per se. Instead, Sinn Féin focused on issues of immediate, material

Building the Political Party and ‘Republicanization’, 1981–5

29

importance to the communities in which it was based: housing shortages; unemployment; drugs problems; and crime. A typical issue of the party newspaper from the middle of 1984, for instance, offers ample evidence to this effect. True, the front page of the paper and space within was given over to coverage of the alleged ‘drift’ in British policy in Northern Ireland (a reference to the then government’s failure to name a successor to James Prior as Secretary of State).49 On top of that, the largest article in the paper (on the centre pages) was a historical analysis of republican strategy during the Irish civil war. In both these cases, the presence of the respective stories was scarcely surprising.50 What is striking, though, is the fact that the majority of the articles that made up the remainder of that edition had almost nothing explicitly to say about the ‘liberation struggle’. On the contrary, the reader was informed of the ordinary problems being faced in certain local areas, or even by individual families. From the traffic accident ‘black spot’ in the Poleglass estate of Belfast, to the efforts of the residents of Bray in Dublin to stamp out drug dealing; such was the dominant focus of the newspaper.51 It was to these issues, typical of life in any relatively deprived urban environment, that Sinn Féin gave most attention and directed its activities. Moreover, not only did the party seek to highlight social problems, which in its eyes were a legacy of the failed states created by partition, but also it sought to remedy them. This was to be the practical outworking of the call made by the Adams–McGuinness leadership for republicans to become politically engaged with the ‘masses’ on a daily basis. The truth of this can be seen through an examination of Sinn Féin’s response to two of the socio-economic issues that received the greatest coverage in An Phoblacht/Republican News: alleged housing discrimination in Northern Ireland; and the heroin ‘epidemic’ that swept through Dublin in the early 1980s. With regards to the former, one of the principal grievances for Northern Ireland’s nationalist community at the outset of the ‘Troubles’ had been the perception that public housing was allocated and maintained on a discriminatory basis. It was this that, for many, had come to epitomize the apparent ‘inequality’ and ‘sectarianism’ of the Northern Irish state; so much so, that the housing issue had played a vital role in the genesis of the conflict.52 Thereafter, despite the reforms enacted in response to the civil rights movement, the belief remained among many nationalists that inequality of this kind remained endemic within the system. As a consequence, ‘housing’ continued to be a potent subject and one that could be exploited with relative ease by the republican movement (both north and south, in light of the housing shortages that afflicted much of inner-city Dublin). For this reason, Sinn Féin’s internal lecture for activists on ‘social agitation’ identified ‘housing’ as one of four key issues concerning the ‘working class’, by which republicans might bring them to ‘identify with the national liberation struggle’.53 That such counsel was acted upon can be seen from the volume of activity undertaken by Sinn Féin, particularly in Northern Ireland, that targeted

30 The Long March

alleged housing problems. Criticism of conditions within the Divis Flats complex in West Belfast, for example, was a regular feature of the party’s newspaper.54 In similar vein, when Sinn Féin decided to launch a series of locally focused news-sheets in early 1983, as a vehicle for further embedding the party into local communities, major emphasis was given to the problems created by the ‘worst housing in Europe’.55 The enduring relevance of this subject was underlined a year later when, in the course of his campaign for a European seat, Danny Morrison made much of the allegedly ‘sectarian nature of housing provisions in the North’.56 Sinn Féin’s activism on this matter, though, ran beyond simply highlighting the deficiencies of the system. Instead, party members combined condemnation of the existing situation with concerted efforts to deliver improvements. Morrison, for example, did not just attack the status quo, but also made positive suggestions as to how things could be ameliorated, calling for, ‘an active and massive programme of new building, the expansion of the Poleglass estate and the creation of new estates on the outskirts of the area’.57 Meanwhile, alongside such appeals, Sinn Féin members on the ground in areas with housing problems were, in the later words of Morrison, ‘dealing with various agencies – the DoE, the DHSS, the Housing Executive – and gaining experience, learning how to deal with consumer problems . . . learning how to work the system’.58 In similar vein, the Sinn Féin Assembly member for the Lower Falls district of Belfast, Fra McCann, recalls his own experience of involvement in the campaign to demolish the Divis Flats complex: we realized that it was no use pushing for the flats to come down if we weren’t going to replace it with the type of houses that people wanted to live in. So we actually took part in consultation with the Housing Executive to design the area that was being created.59 As the party’s local newsletters proclaimed, the impulse behind this kind of activity was a belief that Sinn Féin should act ‘with the people’ against the state, to help ‘those socially and economically oppressed by the system to make as many gains as possible’.60 A similar impulse lay behind the party’s prominent involvement in the anti-drugs campaign that developed across Dublin’s inner city in this period. In particular, the Concerned Parents Against Drugs (CPAD) committees that sprang up in many areas were given Sinn Féin’s unreserved backing.61 This, despite the fact that several of their activities (such as the patrolling of estates, the issuing of threats to alleged ‘drug pushers’ and vandalism), appeared to border on vigilantism.62 In line with this, An Phoblacht/Republican News adopted a stance of unqualified support for the actions of the CPAD groups. Furthermore, while the CPAD committees were not formally run by republicans, it is clear that members of the movement were heavily involved and often in a leadership capacity. An Phoblacht/Republican News claimed that such

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participation was on a ‘purely personal basis’.63 However, anecdotal evidence from those who were involved in the communities at the time would appear to challenge this assertion. Indeed, it is the view of one former community worker, for instance, that, ‘the Concerned Parents may have been started by those who were genuinely opposed to drugs, but they were quickly taken over by the Provos’.64 Assessing the truth, or otherwise, of this allegation lies beyond the scope of the present work. Suffice to say here, however, that the fact that such accusations could plausibly be levelled is evidence in itself of how deeply involved republicans became with the CPAD campaign. What can be said with certainty, meanwhile, is that from the early 1980s Sinn Féin worked hard to build its profile as a leading voice in support of the CPAD movement. In so doing, according to Sean O’Callaghan, the party was proceeding from the recognition that this campaign might provide the party with a useful ‘entry point’ into the communities concerned.65 This was particularly useful in the south, given the absence of the kind of natural republican ‘heartlands’ that existed as a result of the conflict in the north. Furthermore, once there, the nature of the campaign was such as to lend itself readily to the kind of ‘street-based’, activist politics that the party had experience of from Northern Ireland. Integral to this was the creation of a kind of ‘crusading’ ethos, which relied much on the rousing of emotions and the maintenance of a heightened level of agitation, through such devices as pickets, marches and even violence. Against this backdrop, it could be that the Concerned Parents campaign was viewed, strategically, by the Adams–McGuinness leadership, as a possible successor to the anti-H-Block campaign of a few years previously. After all, with the period of the hunger strike having brought an apparent surge in support for republicanism, it would have been only natural for Sinn Féin to seek a repeat performance. The CPAD movement, through its focus on a sensitive subject and its arousal of similar emotional responses (albeit on a smaller scale), may well have been seen by the republican leadership as the inheritor of the ‘National H-Block/Armagh’ Committee’s mantle. In as far as this was the case, Sinn Féin’s high-profile involvement in the anti-drugs campaign can thus be described in terms of the party utilizing a ‘strategy of tension’; or what O’Callaghan describes as, ‘the politics of fear’.66 Within such a strategy, emphasis was placed on elevating and then sustaining the passion of the general public. In the words of the former community worker already quoted: When it came down to it, the Provos in the Concerned Parents weren’t interested in rational debate – on actually discussing the issues involved in this drugs problem. All they really wanted was names . . . names of those involved and they would then be targeted for pickets, violence, whatever. And all the time they were getting people’s emotions up, getting them excited.67

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In this context, it seems to have been the hope of the republican leadership that the inflaming of public opinion on the drugs issue would work to the party’s advantage. However, recognition of this, it should be stressed, is not to doubt the fact that many of those involved in the anti-drugs campaign for Sinn Féin were genuine in their intentions; or, indeed, to deny that the campaign was responding to an all-too-real social problem. It is, though, to see the ‘bigger picture’ as to the strategic benefits that the party could hope to accrue by its very public anti-drugs stance and activity. This activity was part of a broader framework of republican involvement in what Sean O’Callaghan has labelled, ‘soft social issues’.68 Through its campaigning on such matters as housing shortages and drugs problems, Sinn Féin looked to ‘republicanize’ a growing section of the Irish people. Or, as an internal party document from the mid1980s outlined, the party sought, through its role in ‘community politics’, to ensure both that it remained ‘firmly entrenched in all the affairs of the local community’ and that it was in position to begin the process of ‘politicising the people . . . in practical ways’.69 By broadening the character of their ‘struggle’ in this fashion, the hope was not only that it would lead to a direct increase in the popularity of Sinn Féin, but also that by highlighting the failure of the ‘partitionist’ states, it would build support for the wider ‘national struggle’ and the IRA’s campaign.

Left-wing radicalism meets ethnic nationalism As well as identifying Sinn Féin with a form of ‘community’ politics, activism on the sort of ‘social issues’ described, was also in keeping with the self-image of a party that believed itself to be both firmly to the left of the political spectrum and based primarily within depressed urban ghettoes. With regards to the latter, Sinn Féin assumed its appeal to lie chiefly with those ‘left behind’ by the state on either side of the Irish border. To some extent, it had little choice in this. The very insularity of the republican movement, at the outset of the effort to build Sinn Féin, guaranteed that the party would have to rely, at least initially, on this support base. While republicans preferred to view this base as the embodiment of the true Irish working-class, the reality was that it might better be described as comprising a kind of ‘under-class’. For as Fionnula O’Connor has illustrated, within Northern Ireland the unemployed accounted for over a third of those voting for Sinn Féin in this period (by contrast, the equivalent figure for the SDLP was 13 per cent). In addition, the strongest levels of support for the party were to be found in the areas of the greatest deprivation and alienation from the state; areas such as the Creggan and Brandywell estates in Derry, and the Ballymurphy, New Lodge and Whiterock areas of Belfast.70 A similar story was also in evidence in the Republic of Ireland, where as has been described, the sprawling housing estates of inner-city Dublin served as the principal

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focus for Sinn Féin’s political endeavours. The effect of this was to incline Sinn Féin instinctively towards a form of ‘oppositional’, left-wing politics. At the same time, this political orientation was also the product of the ideological self-perception of key figures within the Adams–McGuinness leadership. The professed ‘socialism’ of those constituting that leadership has tended to be dismissed, yet many of them have long spoken of their admiration for republican ‘socialists’ such as James Connolly (one of the signatories of the 1916 proclamation of the Irish Republic and founder of both the Irish Socialist Republican Party and the Irish Labour Party) and Liam Mellows (a leading member of the anti-Treaty IRA of 1922–3). Jim Gibney, Adams’ close friend and ally, for instance, has spoken of Mellows (and Connolly) as being his ‘introduction to socialism in an Irish setting’, and claimed that the work of the former was ‘among a group of books deemed “essential reading” by those in the gaols with the responsibility for political education’.71 By the same token, Adams’ 1986 book, The Politics of Irish Freedom, is replete with numerous references as to the importance of Connolly and Mellows.72 Such an affinity is far from surprising, given the clear similarities between the kind of ideas championed by ‘Brownie’/Adams and those of Mellows. The latter had, for instance, written that the republican struggle needed to be expanded beyond ‘guns and men’ and argued that the ‘Republican political and military outlook’ needed to be ‘coordinated’.73 The congruence of this with the later words of ‘Brownie’ is unmistakable.74 Elsewhere, there were obvious parallels between Mellows’ contention that Labour had to be made to stand for the Republic, and Adams’ call (which itself echoed Connolly) for republicans to make ‘the cause of Labour the cause of Ireland and the cause of Ireland the cause of Labour’.75 In this way, as the Adams–McGuinness leadership sought to chart a new ‘political departure’ within the republican movement, Mellows and Connolly were natural sources to draw upon. That this should have been so was not just because such a use of republican history helped legitimate the project, but also because Adams and those around him had, to some extent, genuinely imbibed the arguments of their republican antecedents. The canonical works of Irish republicanism, however, were not the only ideological stimuli to which the Adams–McGuinness generation of republican leaders were exposed. Rather, they were also brought into contact (often through time spent in prison), with wider currents of radical global thought. As Jim Gibney recalls: You had conflicts going on in Angola, in the African continent, Mozambique, South Africa itself. There was an international atmosphere. [The] Soviet Union was still a major power in those days. And these were things that were very alive to us in internment. And we would have read a lot of revolutionary literature. We would have picked up on the ideas of what Marxists [were saying] . . . In a sense it was catholic, in the universal sense

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of the word. Because you were picking up general knowledge of world events and, of course, you were fitting them into an Irish context.76 Gibney’s view is supported by the opinion of another close ally of Gerry Adams, Tom Hartley, who has also attested to the important part played by international events on his own political development: I always knew about the South African struggle. My generation also knew about Algeria, Vietnam, about the civil rights movement in North America . . . It would be anti-imperialist struggles, anti-colonial struggles taking place in Africa, and that was really, you might say, what I grew up alongside.77 Concurrent with such recollections, Richard English has shown that the IRA prisoners’ collection of books in the Maze prison was heavily slanted towards left-wing, revolutionary writings, with expositions from numerous socialist thinkers including Marx, Lenin, Trotsky and Mao.78 What all of this illustrates, therefore, is the degree to which the people who made up the Adams–McGuinness leadership had been imbued with a sense of Ireland’s place in a wider international order. Against this background, it was no surprise that one of the hallmarks of that leadership was a far more vigorous attempt to identify Sinn Féin with ‘fraternal’ national liberation struggles around the world. In this regard, it should be noted, the location of the republican struggle within a broader, international context in itself marked nothing new. On the contrary, Irish republicans had always looked abroad for support in their efforts to ‘free Ireland’ from British control. Ever since the days of Wolfe Tone in the eighteenth century and the first expositions of Irish republicanism, the movement had drawn both ideological inspiration and practical succour from beyond Ireland’s shores (first from France and later from the United States). This willingness to look abroad – what might be termed an ‘internationalist tendency’ – had survived the republican split of the late 1960s that saw the creation of the ‘Provisionals’. Rather than being, as they have often been portrayed, an entirely inward-looking group, the initial leaders of that movement continued to draw significant support, both material and ideological, from abroad.79 Nevertheless, such connections were only taken so far. Little attempt was made to establish ‘solidarity’ links with other revolutionary groups around the world, of the sort that would become standard fare for Sinn Féin in the 1980s. These were generally seen as superfluous to requirements. Moreover, the innate anti-Marxism of men such as Ó Brádaigh, led them to view many so-called ‘progressive’ groups with a good deal of suspicion. Too close an association with the revolutionary left was viewed as taking the party dangerously near to the terrain of the hated ‘official’ republican movement.

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Thus, rather than viewing itself as being in some way aligned to a global anti-imperialist continuum, Sinn Féin in the 1970s looked more to a context that was both historical and specifically Irish.80 By contrast, the internationalism of the Adams–McGuinness leadership was qualitatively different from that which preceded it and was profoundly influenced by the aforementioned engagement with revolutionary ideas when in prison. Increasingly, republicans did not simply view the international arena as an optional and opportunistic instrument for use against the British, but instead saw it as an integral part of their political outlook as republicans. In line with such beliefs, there was a concerted effort to develop the image of Sinn Féin as a party of national liberation, in line with other radical, anti-imperialist movements across the globe.81 In this period the party became a regular fixture at the wide variety of conferences being organized by so-called ‘revolutionary’ groups and ‘progressive’ governments from around the world. It was to such entities, frequently Marxist in orientation, that Sinn Féin now looked in a way that would have been unimaginable for the fervently anti-Marxist early leaders of the ‘Provisional’ republican movement. Efforts were made to seek out and establish links with those perceived to be engaged in similar ‘struggles’ to that of Irish republicans, with the efforts of groups such as the ANC in South Africa, the PLO in the Middle-East and the Sandinistas in Nicaragua receiving particular attention. Through their association with these causes, Sinn Féin not only established its place among the global ‘revolutionary left’, but also strengthened its interpretation of the conflict in Ireland: that it was essentially ‘colonial’ in nature and required the removal of the ‘imperial’ power, Britain, if it was to be resolved. Implicit here was what Richard Bourke identified as an integral feature of the republican worldview; namely, a belief in the essential antithesis of the forces of ‘democracy-socialism’ on the one hand and ‘capitalismimperialism’ on the other.82 Republicans had long held themselves to be a dynamic manifestation of the former. This had been the case even under the Ó Brádaigh–O’Conaill leadership, which had also talked enthusiastically of the need to create a ‘socialist republic’.83 Under the control of Adams and his supporters, though, Sinn Féin’s commitment to the cause of ‘socialism’ was taken to a new level. On the domestic front, this shift was embodied by the new prominence placed on the language of ‘class’. Adams, for example, could be found arguing that republicans would only be successful if, ‘the struggle is led by the most radical social groups and in particular by the working class’.84 In similar vein, during a republican rally to mark May Day (itself a new departure for republicans), the Sinn Féin President insisted on the importance of combining, ‘the right of the Irish people to national self-determination and the right of those who produce Irish wealth to control that wealth in the interests of their own class – the Irish working class’.85 The clear message was that it was with the working class, and even with those below that in society, that

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republicans stood. As Adams stated on a separate occasion, Sinn Féin believed its place was with, ‘the “have-nots” against the “haves” . . . [with] the people of no property’.86 Their adversaries were those ‘on the other side’, from ‘big business, to multinationalism, to gombeenism, to sectarianism and to the maintenance of a privileged class’; or to put it more simply, ‘all forms and all manifestations of imperialism and capitalism’.87 In line with this ethos, the republican leadership placed added emphasis on the supposed linkages between the national, economic and social aspects of their ‘struggle’. These were now to be seen as ‘but different sides of the one coin’, and the party declared that ‘labour cannot wait!’.88 Explicit attacks were made on the alleged ‘evils of a capitalist system’, and these were joined by new suggestions as to the importance of creating a ‘planned economy’ that was ‘controlled by its workers’.89 Furthermore, in 1983, Sinn Féin altered its constitution, deleting a reference to ‘Christian principles’ and replacing this with ‘Irish republican socialist principles’ instead.90 Beyond such effusive rhetoric, party policy became decidedly more left wing in orientation, with talk of wealth redistribution, major increases in taxation, heavy state intervention in the economy, the creation of workers’ co-operatives and strident opposition to Ireland’s membership of the European Economic Community (EEC).91 In addition, the party also adopted a more avowedly ‘progressive’ stance on several social issues. A clear example in this regard, for instance, was Sinn Féin’s embrace of, what might be termed, a ‘proto-feminist agenda’. In 1980, for instance, a dedicated ‘Women’s Department’ was created within the party to advance the role of women. Following on from this, at its 1983 ard fheis, Sinn Féin approved a programme of internal affirmative action, setting a quota of eight women, who had to be on the ard chomhairle at all times.92 More broadly, the party also began to pay much greater attention than previously to such matters as the non-availability of contraception and the absence of divorce legislation in the Irish Republic.93 Rectifying the latter situation, it was argued, was ‘long overdue’, while there were calls for the former to be, ‘free, safe and readily available to all through GPs and family planning clinics’.94 The party’s stance on this issue, in particular, was representative of a major shift in policy, given that Sinn Féin had previously opposed the 1974 decision to legalize the sale of contraceptives in the south.95 Despite this, however, the Adams–McGuinness leadership did not go too far in its adoption of ‘socialist’ rhetoric and ‘left-wing’ positions. In line with this, Pat Doherty, Sinn Féin’s vice-president, has claimed that the party had always sought a ‘sensible socialism’, rather than a more doctrinaire version.96 Similarly, Danny Morrison has argued that, while ‘you could roughly define Sinn Féin as being left-wing, progressive, radical . . . there was no overriding dogmatic ideology’.97 The truth of this was even acknowledged by more radical members of the movement. The Derry republican feminist, Daisy Mules, for instance, admitted in 1985 that while Sinn Féin did have a ‘commitment

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to socialism’, its ‘revolutionary socialist’ character was in its ‘infancy’.98 The reality was that this socialist character of the party continued to be tempered by the fact that it remained only one facet of a wider political personality. While it was perhaps given more prominence during the early 1980s, it never achieved complete ascendance; there continued to be other sides to Sinn Féin’s character. In this regard, Sinn Féin’s continued, and even increased, involvement in community politics has already been described. In addition, the party also drew strongly on an appeal to what might be termed ‘ethnic nationalism’. Such ethnic nationalism was based, not only on the party’s firm republican line on the ‘national question’ (that Northern Ireland was the illegitimate creation of the British occupier), but also on Sinn Féin’s assertive defence of the rights of the northern Catholic/nationalist community as a communal bloc. Hence, a 1982 election pamphlet stated that party representatives would both oppose, ‘the illegal concoction of a foreign occupying power’, and provide, ‘strong, fearless leadership . . . for the Nationalist people’.99 Another leaflet that same year asserted that, ‘A vote for Sinn Féin will show that the nationalist community is off its knees. No more begging for our rights.’100 In this way, the party appealed to nationalists qua nationalists in Northern Ireland. It used the language of an ethnic, or communal, ‘tribalism’. The truth of this could be seen from the literature produced by Owen Carron in his bid for re-election in the Fermanagh/South Tyrone constituency at the 1983 general election. Therein, Carron entreated the ‘historic Nationalist constituency’ to keep the seat out of the hands of ‘the enemies of the Nationalist community’.101 The latter was said to comprise ‘the traditional unionist power-bloc [which is] bigoted, oppressive and unchanging in their hostility towards you the Nationalist people’.102 Carron then finished by declaring, ‘I am the only candidate capable of winning for the Nationalist people. Together we will save this seat.’103 This strident message of ethnic nationalism was an integral part of Sinn Féin’s political identity. In this way, the Adams–McGuinness leadership had clearly recognized the potency of what might even be termed the ‘politics of sectarianism’. Further indication of this has been offered by Des O’Hagan, who has claimed that Adams, in 1972, when discussing the ‘Official’ republican movement’s strategy of attempting to achieve Protestant and Catholic unity, had stated that, ‘Youse might make some headway but six well-placed car bombs could put years of work down the drain.’104 For O’Hagan, the future Sinn Féin president was not only rejecting the notion that crosscommunity accord could be achieved, but also was arguing that republicans should instead look to build on ethnic loyalties. Without doubt, O’Hagan’s personal background (as a member of the ‘Officials’) means that his testimony has to be treated with a great deal of caution. Unsurprisingly, Adams himself refuses to accept that he ever made such a statement.105 What is more, the fact is, as Anthony McIntyre (himself no friend of Adams) has

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noted, there is almost no supporting evidence to suggest that the Sinn Féin President was sectarian in the traditional sense.106 Nevertheless, the purpose of this anecdote in the present context is not to inveigh that Adams was personally sectarian, but rather to use it as a symbol of the fact that he did appreciate the power of sectarianism and was prepared to use it to build the strength of his political party and movement. The truth of the latter would seem only too clear, given the nature of the political message developed in this period. In this respect, O’Hagan’s account does offer a genuine insight into a key aspect of the republican movement’s character. Moreover, it was this aspect that ensured that Sinn Féin’s ‘drift to the left’, though real, was balanced by the persistence of a forceful, communal nationalism.

The contradictions of a ‘broad-church’ party In this way, it can be seen that the republican leadership, while wanting to build a party that was decidedly left wing in outlook, did not push this too far. As much as the leadership itself might have been radical and infused with a belief in socialism (whether understood in a historical, international, or even specifically Irish, context), it also recognized the enduring power of nationalism and a more traditional message. What is more, it also understood that any attempt to pursue a more unreservedly radical path threatened to open up internal fault lines between the ‘left’ and ‘right’ wings of republicanism. Sinn Féin had long been, in the words of one member, a ‘broad–church’ organization, and the Adams–McGuinness leadership was determined to preserve this facet of the party’s nature.107 In so being, it is likely the leadership was only too aware that any effort to alter the socio-economic stance of the party was potentially problematic, because it raised the issue of the republican movement’s relationship with the Catholic Church; for while Sinn Féin was, in the words of one activist, a ‘secular organization’, it was also still evolving from a position where it was, ‘very much tied in with Catholicism.’108 True, the relationship between the Catholic hierarchy and the modern republican movement had, for the most part, been antagonistic. This had been particularly so during the period of the hunger strikes, when the Church’s role in opposing the strikes was bitterly attacked by republicans.109 Nevertheless, the reality was that most members of the movement were Catholic – including most of the leadership. Indeed, the truth of this may actually have been a cause of consternation for those republicans who were more radicallyminded in social terms. Sean O’Callaghan, for instance, recalls hearing the avowed Marxist republican, Brian Keenan, describe both Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness as “two fine fucking Catholic boys”.110 More broadly, as Danny Morrison recognized, the Catholic Church had historically played a vital role in creating a receptive audience for the ‘republican message’, especially in Northern Ireland, through its teaching of ‘nationalist’-oriented

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history.111 For this reason, an attempt to push Sinn Féin towards a more uncompromising stance on socio-economic matters was always likely to encounter significant problems. That the Adams–McGuinness leadership appreciated this had been made plain by the clear limits to the aforementioned proto-feminist agenda that the party adopted at this time. For instance, while the party moved towards being ‘pro-divorce’, in the days ahead of the 1986 referendum on the subject in the Irish Republic, Gerry Adams had said that individual republicans should ‘vote with their consciences’ on the issue.112 This directive was entirely commensurate with the low profile that Sinn Féin had maintained throughout the campaign that preceded the vote; an indication of the party’s willingness to side-step a potentially divisive issue. Similarly, Sinn Féin’s position on the question of abortion, while evolving to a degree, remained something of a ‘fudge’ throughout this period. During the 1983 referendum in the Republic of Ireland that prohibited the legalization of abortion, for instance, Sinn Féin assiduously avoided taking a firm position in the debate. By the same token, the party’s 1986 policy document reflected its ambiguity on the subject. On the one hand, this stated Sinn Féin’s basic objection to the practice, declaring the party to be ‘opposed to the attitudes and forces in society that compel women to have an abortion’.113 At the same time, though, it went on to say that the party accepted the necessity of abortion in situations where, ‘the woman’s life is at risk or in grave danger’. Even more confusingly, that section of the document then concluded with the statement, ‘we recognize that women have the right to choose’ – which appeared to indicate a far more wide-ranging acceptance of the practice.114 Certainly, this final statement, the result of an addendum passed at the previous year’s ard fheis, sat somewhat uneasily with the sentiments that preceded it.115 It also raised the prospect of division within the republican movement, between social radicals and social conservatives. Consequently, at the ard fheis at the end of 1986, the ard chomhairle secured the passage of a motion that deleted the previous year’s addendum and, in the course of the debate, senior party figures such as Mairtin O’Muilleor, Francie Molloy and even Gerry Adams himself all lined up to speak in favour of the deletion of the prochoice wording. The republican leadership had perhaps recognized that, on this issue, things had been allowed to go too far and, as a result, reversed course.116 Beyond such concerns as to the possible offence that might be caused to Catholic or ‘traditional’ republican sensibilities, there was another, perhaps more pressing, reason for the Adams–McGuinness leadership to avoid drifting too far to the left on policy matters of this kind: the prospect of being labelled ‘Stickies’. This term, which was used to refer to members of the ‘Official’ republican movement – as distinct from the ‘Provies’/‘Provos’ in the ‘Provisional’ movement – was one to which Adams, in particular, was very sensitive. An example of this can be seen from Eamon Collins’ account of life

40 The Long March

inside the IRA, in which he refers to an incident where he accused the Sinn Féin President of speaking like a ‘Stick’. In Collins’ words: [Adams] looked shocked. I had hit him with the accusation that his competitors within the Provisional republican movement had been levelling at him since he first became the movement’s most charismatic figure since Padraig Pearse and Michael Collins. There was no greater insult that one Provo could level at another than to accuse him of following in the footsteps of the Official IRA.117 By Collins’ estimation he had certainly ‘touched a very raw nerve’.118 Adams’ sensitivity on this matter stemmed in part from the fact that one of the grievances given for the original ‘Official–Provisional’ split was the claim by the latter that, ‘an extreme form of socialism was being pushed on the Movement’, by those who wanted a ‘totalitarian dictatorship of the Left’.119 As a result, the provenance of Sinn Féin’s new socialism was seen as an issue of some significance, with Adams strongly denying accusations of any Marxist link: ‘There is no Marxist influence within Sinn Féin, it simply isn’t a Marxist organisation. I know of no-one in Sinn Féin who is a Marxist or who would be influenced by Marxism.’120 Likewise, he spoke elsewhere, both of the dangers of ‘ultra-leftism’ and of the fact that it was perfectly possible to be a ‘nonsocialist republican’.121 What Adams termed his own ‘socialist republicanism’ he sought to root firmly in Irish history. As the Sinn Féin President stated in 1979: I believe personally that to be a Republican in the true sense that you have to base it on the 1916 declaration which in itself is a radical document. It talks about the wealth of Ireland belonging to the people of Ireland. Also as radical was the democratic programme of the First Dáil. If we are to be true Republicans we have to adhere to what it says in those documents. Our form of Republicanism is radical Republicanism.122 Alongside such expositions, Adams’ readiness to invoke Connolly, one of the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising, has already been noted. Care was also taken, though, to call upon the alternative face of that rising, Padraig Pearse, and his more mystical, Gaelicized, quasi-religious ideology of republicanism. Thus, Adams balanced overt calls for socialism with talk of, ‘an Ireland, free, united, socialist and Gaelic’.123 By so doing, republican history was used as a tool of validation for the Adams–McGuinness leadership, to ‘prove’ that the movement was neither ‘going Sticky’, nor abandoning its more ‘Pearseian’ heritage. This, in turn, allowed the leadership to try and maintain the ‘eclectic’ nature of the wider movement, so that in the words of one Sinn Féin representative, it remained a party comprised of ‘different people with different views’.124

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Allusions to the 1916 Easter Rising were also important for the Adams– McGuinness leadership in the context of its efforts to persuade the republican movement that there was no fundamental conflict between an involvement in ‘normal’ politics and a commitment to revolution. On one level, perceptions as to the existence of just such a conflict were manifested in the ‘reform versus revolution’ debate within the movement. The genesis of this lay in the near-Manichaean worldview of traditional republicanism, which tended to posit everyone as either a republican, or a supporter of the status quo. Consequently, when Sinn Féin began to involve itself in what was admitted to be ‘the superficially reformist area of advice clinics and elections’, uncomfortable questions were raised.125 After all, the party was essentially creating something of a paradox for itself on two counts, especially within Northern Ireland. In the first instance, this was a function of the fact that, according to classic ‘insurgency theory’, the aim of an insurgent group’s political movement should have been to build support for the armed struggle by highlighting the oppressive and corrupt nature of the state, without seeking to rectify it. Doing the latter risked undermining support for the insurgents, or, to use Mao Tse Tung’s analogy (of which republicans were clearly aware), it risked diluting the ‘water’ in which the fish of the guerrilla army swam.126 Second, this possible dilution was particularly difficult for a republican movement, which had always claimed that Northern Ireland was an, ‘irreformably sectarian state’.127 The attainment of positive change within Northern Ireland could only but seem to prove the lie of such assertions of ‘irreformability’. Or, as Sinn Féin’s General Secretary, Mitchel McLaughlin, later admitted, it was always likely to cause people to lose their ‘old certainty’ over the ‘bad mindedness’ of the Northern Irish state.128 What McLaughlin’s comments reflected was the fact that the republican leadership was only too aware of these contradictions and the difficulties they raised. Further evidence to this effect could also be seen in a 1984 edition of the internal republican magazine, Iris, which carried an interview with the then chairperson of Sinn Féin’s housing department in West Belfast, Sean Keenan. Therein, Keenan acknowledged that the party’s growing involvement in housing agitation had been controversial, because, ‘housing is basically a reformist issue in the sense that it’s about obtaining better conditions [emphasis in original]’.129 Nevertheless, Keenan endorsed Sinn Féin being active on the issue, because, he claimed, the party brought a ‘revolutionary perspective’ to the subject that helped ‘politicise the people’ and build ‘national resistance’.130 Similar arguments were advanced on other occasions in which the dangers of reformism were taken into account, often allied to the contention that republicans had to deal with the fact that they were ‘revolutionaries’, working in a ‘pre-revolutionary situation’.131 That being the case, it was said that republicans needed to engage in matters of ‘immediate concern’ to ‘ordinary people’ in order to increase their ‘consciousness’ of the republican cause.132 As an internal republican lecture

42 The Long March

argued, republicans had to operate ‘within the framework of the existing corrupt system’, because of the conditions they faced. This would not, it was maintained, lead to the movement being ‘sucked into the treadmill of petty social reform’ because it remained ‘by definition, a revolutionary organisation’.133 This question of reformism versus revolution tapped into a far deeper and more portentous debate within republican circles at this time: the possible conflict between armed struggle and political activity. As Gerry Adams himself admitted in 1983, there were real concerns within the movement from the beginning, over the decision to embrace ‘politics’; concerns that, he accepted were ‘understandable given the history of Republican politics’.134 Again, here, the example of the ‘Officials’ seemed particularly ominous for many within the ‘Provisional’ movement. The former’s abandonment of armed struggle under the leadership of Cathal Goulding had been intimately related to a desire to become more ‘political’. Many wondered if the ‘Provisionals’ were now treading the same path. Without doubt, the need to prove otherwise undoubtedly gave added vehemence to the declarations made in support of the armed struggle by the Adams–McGuinness leadership in this period. Despite such declarations, though, reservations over the allegedly detrimental effect of political activity on the ‘war’ continued to exist within the movement. Indeed, it was the dispute over this issue that led to the ‘coup’ attempt by Adams’ former friend, Ivor Bell, in 1985. Although this episode has often been underplayed in the literature, this was, in the words of one former member of the republican leadership, ‘incredibly serious . . . [and] probably the most serious challenge to their authority’ that the Adams– McGuinness leadership ever faced.135 Its genesis lay in the genuine discontent within sections of the republican movement, particularly in Belfast, over the perceived ‘running down’ of the armed struggle in favour of politics. Although it was faced down, the ‘coup’ thus served as a stark reminder to Adams and McGuinness that a careful balance between the ‘Armalite’ on the one hand and ‘the ballot box’ on the other had to be maintained; failure to do so risked either splitting the republican movement or engendering further leadership challenges. Again, this is not to suggest, it should be emphasized, that in this period the republican leadership was seeking to end the IRA’s armed struggle. As has been described, Adams and his allies undoubtedly still believed it was necessary at this time, even if it did entail negative consequences for Sinn Féin. This outlook was encapsulated by Danny Morrison’s 1984 admission that ‘perhaps it’s not entirely possible to totally harmonise the relationship between armed struggle and electoral politics . . . [But] I think we just have to live with the fact that there’s always going to be this apparent contradiction.’136 For the Adams– McGuinness leadership, the contradictions generated by the ‘Armalite and ballot box’ approach were deemed an acceptable price to pay, in the effort to

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develop the political personality of Sinn Féin, even as the IRA maintained its campaign of violence.

Conclusion The development of Sinn Féin as an active party, with a definable political personality, held out clear strategic benefits for the republican leadership. One such potential benefit, for instance, was the impact that this could be expected to have on Sinn Féin’s fortunes in the Republic of Ireland, in light of the situation there. During the early 1980s, the southern Irish economy was locked into a serious recession and, in an attempt to stimulate recovery, the Fine Gael–Labour coalition government that had won the November 1982 Irish general election had pursued ‘supply-side’ cuts in taxation and public expenditure. The effect of this in the short term, though, had been merely to exacerbate the economic misery that many people faced and, by 1983, the rate of unemployment in the Irish Republic reached 16 per cent, a figure that accounted for more than 200,000 people.137 More generally, there was a sense of malaise and discontent within the southern state, a state still witnessing significant levels of emigration, as it had done since its establishment some six decades previously.138 It was this wellspring of dissatisfaction, then, that Sinn Féin might plausibly have hoped to tap into, through its adoption of more strident left-wing, ‘alternative’ politics. Coupled with this, Sinn Féin’s embrace of an explicitly radical political persona raised the possibility that the party might be able to form alliances with groups of a similar character. The outworking of the ‘prison struggle’, with the formation of the broad-based ‘National H-Block/Armagh’ committees, had previously demonstrated the benefits that flowed from a willingness to work with others. Now, in the early 1980s, as republicans sought to end their isolation, a new emphasis on ‘socialism’ appeared to bring fresh opportunities for political alliances. The effect of this in the international arena has already been discussed, with Sinn Féin positioning itself as part of a global ‘antiimperialist’, ‘anti-capitalist’ axis, enjoying links of ‘solidarity’ with groups such as the PLO, the ANC and the Sandinistas. Closer to home, meanwhile, the party also sought an association with the British Labour Party. With the UK in this period suffering economic problems akin to those faced in the Republic of Ireland, the Labour Party there had drifted increasingly to the left, diverging ever more starkly from the incumbent Conservative government of Margaret Thatcher. This trajectory had appeared to open up potentially interesting opportunities for republicans. Watching Labour’s leftwards development from Ireland, it seemed conceivable that a more explicitly left-leaning Sinn Féin might establish some form of mutual understanding, or commonality of purpose, with the British Labour Party; doubly so, given that the 1981 Labour Party Conference committed the party to supporting Irish unity, albeit with Unionist consent.

44 The Long March

This move was noted with interest by republicans, who, while seeing the limitations of the policy, also concluded that it was a ‘very important’ development that offered ‘hopeful signs’ for the future.139 Elsewhere, there were also suggestions at this time that republicans might be able to win over a significant number of Labour MPs, who could lobby on their behalf. In line with this, special attention was paid to the outspoken criticism of British government policy in Northern Ireland by the prominent left-wing Labour MP Tony Benn in 1980–1. Not only were Benn’s words, in themselves, welcomed, but also Benn’s position was said to have ‘significant backing within the Parliamentary Labour Party’.140 On this basis, Sinn Féin stated that it might be possible, through people like Benn, to increase ‘the long-term pressure on the Labour Party to break from the sterile bipartisan policy [of supporting the government] and to begin to look at new options of Irish unity’.141 Consequently, the republican leadership did attempt to establish connections with people of Benn’s ilk (though Benn himself was, at this time, unresponsive to any such approach from Sinn Féin). Overtures, for instance, were made to the then leader of the Greater London Council, Ken Livingstone; overtures that bore fruit in December 1982, when Livingstone invited Gerry Adams and Danny Morrison to London. In the event, that meeting had to be cancelled when the two republicans were served with an exclusion order from the mainland under the Prevention of Terrorism Act. Subsequently, however, meetings were held, with Livingstone travelling to Belfast for a twoday visit in February 1983, and Adams finally making it to London in July 1983.142 The expectation of the republican leadership, it would seem, was that a relationship with Livingstone would serve as a bridgehead to others within the British Labour Party. Ultimately, though, the actions of the IRA impeded, and ultimately prevented, a vibrant connection being established. The organization’s bombing of the Harrods store in London in December 1983, for example, reinforced the reluctance of many Labour MPs to talk to the republican movement. By the same token, the following year, after Sinn Féin had actually been able to initiate a dialogue with Labour MP Clive Soley, this was abruptly terminated by the Brighton bombing of October 1984.143 Indeed, that latter attack, directly targeting the British government, effectively ended any hope Sinn Féin might have had of some form of alliance with the Labour Party. This was then confirmed by the rise of Neil Kinnock and the new weight he placed on the ‘consent’ part of his party’s ‘unity by consent’ Irish policy.144 As it was regarding the attempt to form an alliance with the British Labour Party, so too regarding the wider strategic picture for Sinn Féin; reality did not match up to the hopes and expectations of the Adams–McGuinness leadership. True, much had been done, as has been shown, to build the party as an active organization. Given that only a few years previously, ‘Sinn Féin’ had been little more than an appendage to the IRA, this was no mean achievement. Despite the various ambiguities and contradictions that had

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been thrown up, Sinn Féin had established itself as an entity rooted in local communities, with a strong emphasis on agitational ‘street’ politics. Allied to this, on the one hand, was a broader ‘left-wing’ ethos that placed the party in line with other anti-imperialist, anti-capitalist groups around the globe. At the same time, Sinn Féin had shown itself able to speak the language of an ethnic nationalism that drew on the tribal instincts of Northern Ireland’s Catholic/nationalist community. On the back of this diverse appeal, the party gained some notable electoral successes (at Assembly and Westminster elections in Northern Ireland) and these confirmed it as a significant player on the Northern Irish political stage. And yet, by 1985, there were unmistakable signs that the early momentum the party had generated in the aftermath of the hunger strikes was dissipating. The previous year’s European election in Northern Ireland, for example, had seen the stabilization of the SDLP, with its leader John Hume comprehensively defeating Sinn Féin’s candidate, Danny Morrison, in the competition for the Catholic/nationalist vote.145 Morrison secured some 37 per cent of that vote, a figure significantly down on the 43 per cent high watermark achieved by Sinn Féin at the 1983 British general election.146 Although this result was far from disastrous for the party, and could, to some degree, be explained away as a huge personal vote for Hume (the incumbent MEP), it was only marginally improved upon in the 1985 local elections, which saw Sinn Féin win 39 per cent of the nationalist vote.147 Taken together, what these figures indicated was that, while Sinn Féin had certainly carved out a definite niche for itself among Northern Ireland’s electorate, the initial period of dynamic electoral growth had ended. This, in turn, raised questions over the ability of Sinn Féin, as it was then constituted, to achieve a ‘political veto’ in Northern Ireland. For, as Gerry Adams had described in 1983, the notion that republicans could attain such a veto was predicated on the existence of an advancing Sinn Féin, catching up and then overtaking the SDLP. Now, though, this scenario seemed less and less likely to be realized. Perhaps for this reason, the Sinn Féin President could be found stating that it might not be such a bad thing after all, if Sinn Féin did not overtake the SDLP as the, ‘catch-all party for [northern] Catholics’. The danger, he claimed, was that this might lead to a diminution of the party’s social radicalism.148 In similar vein, Danny Morrison now admitted to having ‘made a mistake’ when he had talked of defeating Hume in the European election, while An Phoblacht/Republican News declared that, ‘early hopes of outpolling the SDLP by 1985 had been overambitious’.149 What all such comments represented was the recognition of the Adams–McGuinness leadership both that it had been premature in its previous assessments and that a republican ‘political’ veto in Northern Ireland remained a distant goal. In the Republic of Ireland, meanwhile, the failure of Sinn Féin to realize its aims (and achieve a definite political breakthrough) was even more stark. Despite the apparently helpful conditions for a party purporting to

46 The Long March

offer an anti-establishment, left-wing alternative, the party remained isolated from the overwhelming majority of the southern electorate. The truth of this was underscored by the February 1982 general election there, when Sinn Féin secured a mere 1 per cent of the vote.150 Thereafter, there was little indication that the party could achieve any major improvement. As Adams acknowledged at the time, Sinn Féin continued to be viewed as an essentially ‘northern’ political party and the reality was that, ‘you can’t get support in Ballymun because of doors being kicked in by the Brits in Ballymurphy’.151 On both sides of the Irish border, then, the republican movement was witnessing a failure of its project for ‘republicanization’. In the south, Sinn Féin continued to be viewed by most people as an irrelevance, while in the north it could still only claim the allegiance of a minority of northern nationalists and its spectacular growth-spurt appeared to have ended. As a result, the threat of marginalization and eventual defeat remained only too real and, for this reason, the Adams–McGuinness leadership again set about modifying the nature of the party to try and deal with such dangers.

2 Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90

‘We reviewed our strategy at that time [1986] and actually decided that we were going to take the word “peace” back, because “peace” had become, as a word, fashioned into a counter-insurgency weapon . . . So, in 1987, and this was the start of the peace process, we introduced the phrase, “Freedom, Justice and Peace”.’ Mitchel McLaughlin1

Introduction In the aftermath of the 1985 local government elections in Northern Ireland, the Adams–McGuinness leadership attempted to portray Sinn Féin’s performance as a ‘successful intervention’ that had ‘achieved its set goal . . . of building a middle leadership’.2 The reality, however, was more prosaic; for the results had demonstrated, beyond question, both the stabilization of Sinn Féin’s vote and the fact that there was little prospect of republicans challenging the SDLP for the leadership of northern nationalism in the immediate future.3 For this reason, the spectre of an ‘internal deal’ in Northern Ireland continued to haunt the republican movement in the mid-1980s. With republicans unable to exert meaningful pressure on the SDLP, the possibility remained that constitutional nationalism might conclude some form of agreement with ‘moderate’ Unionism. The fear of the republican leadership was that such an arrangement would not only serve to ‘copper-fasten’ partition, but also would leave republicans themselves politically marginalized and on the verge of defeat. That there was the potential for just such an outcome had been made apparent in 1984, during the ‘New Ireland Forum’ episode. The purpose of the Forum had been to draw together the ‘constitutional’ parties of Ireland to agree upon a common set of proposals for governing Northern Ireland. In the event, the Unionist parties refused to participate, thereby immediately reducing the likelihood that it would lead to an internal deal of the kind that alarmed republicans. Ultimately, meanwhile, the project collapsed in 47

48 The Long March

fairly spectacular fashion, as the British Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher, unceremoniously rejected the Forum’s final recommendations.4 For a time, however, the initiative had appeared to offer some prospect for political progress. What is more, it had succeeded in bringing about a unified stance among the parties of Irish nationalism, with the exception of Sinn Féin, which was excluded from the Forum and remained isolated (because of the ongoing armed struggle of the IRA). Thus, despite the collapse of the Forum initiative, it seemed clear that the republican movement was vulnerable to a venture of its type. It raised the likelihood that, in all probability, at some point in the future, a political accommodation would be constructed to resolve the Northern Irish conflict – unless that is, republicans could act to prevent such an outcome. Consequently, the republican leadership began to examine new ways in which their movement might establish a political veto over any possible deal, in the absence of Sinn Féin gaining electoral ascendancy over the SDLP. The solution they came up with was a straightforward one: unable to reach the SDLP, Sinn Féin would instead attempt to draw the SDLP (and Fianna Fáil) to itself. It was, therefore, in this context, that the concept of the ‘pan-nationalist alliance’ began to emerge in the discourse of the republican movement. The essence of this was that Sinn Féin would seek common ground, or a consensus with the other parties of Irish nationalism on issues surrounding the ‘constitutional question’. In this way, it owed much to the New Ireland Forum model; the crucial difference, of course, being that Sinn Féin wished to place itself at the heart of any possible new alliance. The theory was that, not only would this end the party’s political isolation, but also that it would act as a brake on any effort by the SDLP to agree to an internal deal for Northern Ireland. Constitutional nationalism would instead be pushed to adopt an increasingly ‘green’ (more stridently nationalist) agenda by their republican allies. The belief that the SDLP was susceptible to an alliance of this sort was no doubt bolstered by the firm restatement of the case against partition that was made by the SDLP’s leader, John Hume, in the wake of Thatcher’s forthright rejection of the Forum report.5 In similar vein, Hume’s deputy, Seamus Mallon, had declared that it now seemed that the ‘very concept of Northern Ireland is based on alienation and on the subjugation of those of the Irish tradition to those of the British tradition’.6 Such pronouncements lent credence to suggestions that the SDLP felt let down and dissatisfied with the attitude of the British government, at least in the short term. For the republican movement, therefore, there seemed to be the possibility of a ‘window of opportunity’, in which, the SDLP might be persuaded to adopt a pan-nationalist approach with republicans, as opposed to seeking an accommodation with Unionism within Northern Ireland. Conventionally, the republican decision to pursue such a partnership with their constitutional rivals has been interpreted as a response to the

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 49

Anglo-Irish Agreement of November 1985. On such a reading, it was the boost that this Agreement gave to the SDLP and the corresponding damage it did to Sinn Féin that forced the Adams–McGuinness leadership to adopt the new strategy. The truth, however, is that the idea for Sinn Féin–SDLP cooperation was already in circulation within the republican movement prior to the 1985 accord. Indeed, as far back as 1980, the SDLP and Sinn Féin had held ‘secret meetings’ (attended by Danny Morrison and another Belfast republican, Joe Austin), to discuss ‘nationalist politics’.7 These gatherings, though, had achieved little and ended in mutual recrimination. At that time, moreover, there was almost no suggestion that the two parties might unite to form some kind of pan-nationalist alliance. This concept developed only later, though again, prior to the 1985 Anglo-Irish Agreement. Hence, in his memoirs, Adams has acknowledged the existence of a discussion paper (apparently formulated by the Redemptorist priest, Fr. Alec Reid), from as early as July 1985, which suggested a ‘nationalist front’ be formed to work for Irish self-determination.8 Even before this, meanwhile, the Sinn Féin President had made his first public overtures to the SDLP on this matter, when he called on it, during a BBC radio interview in January 1985, to participate in talks with his party on ‘pan-nationalist interests’. What was needed, he claimed, was for Sinn Féin and the SDLP to agree a ‘united nationalist approach to the whole question of British involvement in this country’.9 On this occasion, Adams’ offer was quickly rebuffed by John Hume (who was being interviewed on the same programme), who replied that there was little point talking to Sinn Féin when real authority within the republican movement lay with the IRA.10 The republican response was to issue another invitation for talks, but this time with the IRA Army Council. Following this, a meeting was actually arranged (for 23 February 1985) and briefly convened, yet it was quickly halted, ostensibly over the issue of whether or not it could be filmed – but more likely because Hume had second thoughts over the wisdom of the enterprise. Later that year, Adams again renewed his call to the SDLP leader. This time, though, Hume returned to a position of publicly refusing to cooperate with a party that condoned violence.11 Such false starts notwithstanding, there seemed to be clear indications that the SDLP could be positively engaged by republicans. Certainly, Adams has since claimed that, even at that stage, things appeared far more promising in private than they did in public. Indeed, the Sinn Féin President has alleged that the two parties managed to agree on proposals that should have seen Gerry Adams hold a formal meeting with SDLP Deputy Leader, Seamus Mallon. As with previous attempts, however, the projected encounter was abandoned; this time, by the signing of the Anglo-Irish Agreement, which prompted Mallon to back out of the arrangement.12 Still, what the foregoing clearly demonstrates is the fact that the republican urge to embrace some form of pan-nationalism pre-dated the Anglo-Irish

50 The Long March

Agreement. This, in turn, helps illustrate the underlying motivation for the republican drive to achieve a degree of ‘consensus’ between the parties of Irish nationalism: it was a response to the inability of Sinn Féin to achieve a concrete political veto because of the stabilization of the party’s vote in comparison with the SDLP. The pan-nationalist alliance was envisaged as a vehicle by which such a veto might be established, by other means. The significance of the Anglo-Irish Agreement in this context was that it exacerbated the problems the Adams–McGuinness leadership could already see developing for the republican movement. Recognition of the potential damage it could do was quickly evident in their reaction to the Agreement. Adams, for instance, attacked it as a device for ‘stabilising British interests’ that sought to ‘isolate and draw popular support away from the republican struggle’.13 Similarly, Danny Morrison was forthright in his condemnation.14 Such hostility was based, in the first instance, on what Jim Gibney later referred to as the ‘huge security drive against republicans . . . [that] came out of Hillsborough’.15 At the time, there appears to have been genuine concern within the Adams–McGuinness leadership that the Agreement would prompt a security crackdown. Morrison’s in-depth analysis of the Agreement’s meaning, for example, referred to the likelihood of a major ‘repressive move’ against the republican movement, including the possible proscription of Sinn Féin.16 By the same token, Martin McGuinness’s speech at the 1986 Bodenstown Commemoration referred to the prospect of internment being re-introduced, this time with SDLP support (unlike in 1971).17 Almost two years later, in the middle of 1987, An Phoblacht/Republican News was still discussing the chances of Sinn Féin being banned – further testament to the lasting fears of a security offensive against republicans that the Agreement had engendered.18 Beyond such security concerns, of equal (if not greater) concern for the Adams–McGuinness leadership was the damage that the Agreement threatened to do to the republican movement politically. On the one hand, this stemmed from the fact that it could be portrayed (as it was), as an important concession to northern nationalism. It was for this reason that the republican movement also attempted to take some credit for the Agreement, even as it disparaged it. Danny Morrison therefore claimed a few years later, that it was the IRA’s campaign that was really responsible for delivering ‘political change’.19 The glaring truth, though, was that the Agreement was nothing if not a victory for constitutional nationalism and, in particular, the SDLP. It appeared as if Hume’s party had successfully delivered a real advance to the nationalist people of Northern Ireland and, as a result, electoral dividends followed. At the 1986 by-elections in the wake of the Agreement (caused by the resignation of all Unionist MPs, in protest at the accord), the SDLP’s share of the vote increased markedly, with Seamus Mallon also picking up an extra seat for his party.20 The implication of such results cannot have been lost on the republican leadership. On the contrary, the SDLP’s success, both in the

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 51

1986 elections and with the Agreement as a whole, had left republicans in little doubt as to where real ‘power’ lay within northern nationalism at that time. As Sean O’Callaghan, who was a member of Sinn Féin’s ard chomhairle in the months prior to the signing of the Agreement, has recalled, one of the major lessons Adams learnt from the episode was that, ‘John Hume was a much bigger political player than were the republicans’.21 Of even greater significance still was the fact that the Agreement also raised anew the possibility of an internal deal for Northern Ireland that would see the creation of a power-sharing government, between a re-invigorated SDLP and the moderate Unionist parties. This was, after all, precisely the model of governance to which the Agreement itself looked. Hence, Article 4 of the accord stated the desire of the two governments to achieve a devolved administration, ‘on a basis which would secure widespread acceptance throughout the community . . . [through] the co-operation of constitutional representatives within Northern Ireland of both traditions there’.22 In addition, Hume now made more positive noises on the subject, claiming that the Agreement had created an ‘opportunity’ for ‘real reconciliation based on equality’ between Unionists and nationalists. For the SDLP leader, the Agreement had, through its alleged confrontation of the ‘Unionist veto’, made likely the emergence of a more ‘moderate’ Unionism, with which his party could establish ‘power sharing devolution’.23 In this way, Hume’s comments were indicative of the new self-confidence emanating from his party, which seemed ready and willing to make a deal. For these reasons, the Agreement brought home to the Adams–McGuinness leadership the enduring vulnerability of the republican position. And as a result, the importance of drawing the SDLP and the wider constitutional nationalist family into some kind of pan-nationalist alliance appeared all the more pressing. The effort to achieve this key strategic objective intensified in the Agreement’s aftermath. At the same time, Sinn Féin also now attempted to recast itself as an increasingly respectable party of the political ‘mainstream’. At one level this was a direct response to the continued failure of republicans to make any progress in the south. The Adams–McGuinness leadership recognized that this failure was due both to the perceived irrelevance of Sinn Féin to ‘ordinary’ people in the Republic of Ireland and to the close association of the party with the violence of the IRA. Thus, in order to remedy such problems, the republican leadership increasingly sought to speak the language of peace and involve Sinn Féin more immediately in mainstream politics. By so doing, the leadership hoped to increase the party’s appeal to the southern electorate. The pursuit of this objective, though, also intersected with the effort to build a pan-nationalist alliance. By making Sinn Féin a more respectable part of the political community, it could reasonably be assumed that other parties would be more prepared to engage with it. Equally, such an engagement was only likely to increase the respectability with which Sinn Féin was viewed

52 The Long March

by the electorate, showing that the party was not ‘beyond the pale’. Further, the fact that the foundation stone of the alliance sought by the republican leadership was to be the allegedly shared nationalist ‘heritage’ of the parties concerned was also to Sinn Féin’s advantage; for this served to legitimize the party’s call for the re-unification of Ireland. By highlighting the similarities between the republican movement’s agenda and that of other ‘acceptable’ parties, the pan-nationalist alliance could serve as an instrument for the validation of Sinn Féin, certifying its integrity to the electorate and its constitutional rivals.

Pan-nationalism With Sinn Féin seeking to establish a new relationship with the SDLP and Fianna Fáil, based around a shared analysis of the ‘national question’, the party’s position on this issue was now re-emphasized as the core of its political project. Gerry Adams thus affirmed in 1988, ‘The fundamental republican aim has always been to get Britain to abandon its partition policy and adopt instead a policy of reunifying Ireland – that is withdrawing from Ireland and handing over sovereignty to an all-Ireland government.’24 In view of this aim, the Sinn Féin President then urged his party to work towards establishing ‘maximum Irish political unity’.25 This would only be achieved, he noted on another occasion, by republicans being prepared to ‘proceed on the basis of the lowest common denominator and at the level of people’s understanding’.26 What was required, Adams claimed, was something akin to other movements for national independence, such as those of Nehru (in India), Kenyatta (in Kenya) and Castro (in Cuba).27 This new ‘mass antiimperialist movement’ was to be broad-based, appealing to ‘all major sections of Irish society . . . capable of taking a national stand’.28 On the one hand, this vision led to the more explicit socialism of previous years, which had helped define the party’s early political personality, being quietly downplayed. While Gerry Adams had once declared that ‘labour cannot wait’, he was now prepared to state that, ‘I don’t think that socialism is on the agenda at all at this stage, except for political activists on the Left . . . You won’t even get near socialism until you have national independence; it’s a pre-requisite.’29 Alongside this, so too were condemnations of the ‘constitutional’ parties increasingly set aside by Sinn Féin. Hence, while the SDLP had previously been attacked as being, ‘treacherous’, ‘rotten with decay’, ‘spineless’, a party of ‘middle-class Redmondites’ and even ‘imperialist lickspittle’, the republican leadership now sought to put aside such animosity. Instead, it looked to those things that the two parties had in common.30 As Gerry Adams wrote in 1986: the emergence of Sinn Féin may have unnecessarily brought out some of the class differences between ourselves and the SDLP leadership . . . it

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 53

might have been better in this phase of the independence struggle if there could have been some kind of general unity, in which both parties could agree to disagree on social and economic issues and maximise pressure on points of agreement.31 In similar fashion, at an internal party conference in 1988 the Sinn Féin councillor (and ally of the leadership) Mairtin O’Muilleor declared that Sinn Féin’s ideology, rather than being viewed as Marxist, was best understood as being ‘democratic socialist’ and based principally on a belief in ‘fair play for all’. Moreover, he claimed that when it came to ‘bins, bodies and bogs’, the party was ‘only a few degrees to the left of the SDLP’.32 In spite of such assertions, though, it would be a mistake to argue that Sinn Féin abandoned its socialist leanings altogether in this period. O’Muilleor, for instance, also went on to make reference to the ‘guiding socialist philosophy’, to which he felt the party should continue to adhere.33 More generally, meanwhile, most members of the republican leadership continued to believe themselves to be socialist, even if it was unclear precisely what was meant by the term. Adams himself frequently displayed such vagueness with his talk of socialism, but socialism ‘tailored to meet Irish needs’, or ‘a distinctly Irish form of socialism’.34 Furthermore, as has been described, the politics of Sinn Féin had, from the start, drawn on both the movement’s ‘Connolly-ite’ and ‘Pearse-ian’ heritage. This continued to be the case. While it is thus true that, in comparison with the immediate post-hunger strike years, when the former might be said to have been in the ascendant, the period from the mid-1980s did bring a tilt back towards Pearse, this did not mean that Connolly was simply discarded. Instead, the shift was a subtle one, discernible only through slight changes in emphasis, as, for example, in the apparent reassertion of Sinn Féin’s ‘cultural nationalist’ credentials. These had always been part of the party’s message and republican spokespeople had previously highlighted the importance of cultural activity, some even describing it as a ‘political weapon’ against the British.35 Now, though, this was stepped up and, in 1986, the party founded a new Irish language news-sheet, Nuacht Feirste, which dealt with local political issues, as well as carrying Gaelic cultural pieces.36 In this way, Nuacht Feirste marked a new phase in Sinn Féin’s language activism and commitment to what An Phoblacht/Republican News termed ‘the cultural reconquest of Ireland’.37 Even as such measures were taken forward, however, Adams and other republican leaders still continued to talk of the importance of Connolly and the ‘socialist republican’ tendency.38 That this should have been so was a function, again, of their beliefs – but also those of the wider republican movement; for within the movement there remained much support for the more overt ‘Connolly-ite’ strain of republicanism. Testament to this was the vigorous internal debate that took place during this period over the future ideological development of the republican

54 The Long March

movement. Much of this debate occurred within the pages of the internal magazine, Iris Bheag, which gave individual republicans the opportunity to voice their opinions (anonymously, if they so wished). Therein, some echoed support for the policy of placing greater emphasis on nationalism and seeking allies on this basis. One contributor, for instance, claimed that there was ‘universal acceptance’ of the need to ‘broaden the struggle’ in this way.39 Others, however, were clearly not so enthused by the trajectory of the movement. In the words of one contributor, for example, the drive to make alliances with the constitutional parties was ‘grossly mistaken’.40 Elsewhere, it was argued that what was required was, far from a softening of Sinn Féin’s position on socio-economic matters, actually a move further to the left. In this vein, one writer even called for the transformation of Sinn Féin into a ‘consciously socialist party’.41 The passions that this matter aroused were indicative of a wider controversy raised by the ‘Connolly versus Pearse’ debate; namely, the issue of whether republicans should act, to borrow a phrase, ‘in splendid isolation’, or whether they should seek to ally with other forces. Again, this was a subject that was given added zest, because it had played a part in the republican split of 1969– 70. One of the five reasons given by the first ‘Provisionals’ for their break with the Cathal Goulding-led ‘Officials’ was the determination of the latter to establish a ‘National Liberation Front’ with other ‘radical groups’ that would cooperate to achieve ‘limited objectives’.42 The resemblance of this to what the Adams–McGuinness leadership now proposed was apparent. Whereas the Ó Brádaigh–O’Conaill leadership of ‘Provisionalism’ had remained faithful to a fundamentalist type of republicanism, in which the movement was seen as the sole keeper of the flame, Adams and his supporters wished to ‘broaden the forces’ at their disposal.43 This also entailed a shift in the concept of the ‘mass movement’ that Sinn Féin hoped to establish. Previously, when the Adams–McGuinness leadership had talked of a ‘mass movement’ (as they occasionally had in the early 1980s), it had envisaged an entity entirely under Sinn Féin control, which would have been ‘republicanized’. Now, however, in light of the failure of ‘republicanization’, it was accepted that Sinn Féin would merely be one part of a wider ‘mass movement’, rather than itself leading, or even being, the movement. This logic was clearly in evidence in an interview that Adams gave to the American magazine Monthly Review, in May 1989, in which he stated that republicans did not ‘have a monopoly on the struggle’.44 This monopoly, though, was precisely what republicans had traditionally declared their movement to possess. It was, after all, for this reason that successive IRA ‘Army Councils’ had claimed an ideological lineage running back to the ‘First’ and ‘Second’ Dáils of 1919 and 1921. The ‘Provisionals’ had been no different in this regard, a fact highlighted by the determination of their founders to seek out the sole surviving member of the Second Dáil, Tom Maguire, and have him give his blessing to the new movement. In so doing, they were

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 55

attempting to authenticate their claim to be the sole repositories of genuine Irish sovereignty. Even under the early Adams–McGuinness leadership, moreover, there had been little sign of a shift away from this kind of thinking. In 1982, for instance, the IRA affirmed that it held, ‘a monopoly on true Irish patriotism’.45 By the same token, in his first speech to Sinn Féin as party president, Gerry Adams stressed that republicans were, ‘the guardians and the vanguard of the anti-imperialist struggle in Ireland’.46 Such statements, though, were a considerable distance from the type of language that was increasingly used to justify the pan-nationalist alliance approach. Now it was acknowledged that republicans could not hold a monopoly and they could ‘not win the struggle on [their] own’.47 Seen against this background, then, it is unsurprising that the argument over competing ‘Connolly-ite’ and ‘Pearse-ian’ visions of republicanism, as representative of deeper disputes within the movement, should have caused such controversy. Having rumbled on for some time in the background, this debate came to a head at the party’s internal conference of May 1988, with the discussion there of two contrasting position papers: Republicanising the Social and Economic Struggle and Towards a Broader Base? The first of these looked explicitly to Connolly and the struggle for ‘economic sovereignty’, declaring, as Connolly had done, that it was not enough to have the British leave and simply ‘hoist the green flag over Dublin Castle’. Instead, it urged republicans to ‘agitate around people’s social and economic needs’, in order to ‘republicanize’ their struggles.48 By contrast, the alternative paper at the conference charted a new path for the movement, recommending that republicans pursue an alliance with the other ‘forces of Irish nationalism’. This alliance, it was argued, would be made to work to a ‘nationalist political agenda’ and confront the British on the ‘national question’.49 As has been made clear, it was the last set of arguments that won the day; a fact confirmed by the production of a further discussion paper on future strategy by the republican leadership, which looked to the creation of a broad-based, ‘movement for national self-determination which would include non-republicans and non-socialists’.50 It was this latter paper that was endorsed as party policy at Sinn Féin’s 1989 ard fheis and subsequently re-endorsed at the 1991 gathering.51 The Connolly-ite document, meanwhile, was sidelined and there were allegations that those who had supported it (notably Jim Monaghan and Rose Dugdale) were marginalized within the republican movement. For instance, when Monaghan and Dugdale later attempted to produce a Marxist-inclined book, entitled Questions of History, there were suggestions that this was firmly suppressed by the leadership.52 Certainly, it seems that the Adams–McGuinness leadership, having decided on the course they wished the movement to follow, was careful to ensure that all other options were closed off. According to Anthony McIntyre, it is this that explains why it was that Iris Bheag, the internal magazine that had provided an outlet for expositions on ‘socialism’, was effectively closed

56 The Long March

down in 1990–1.53 Through such action, the way was cleared for the ‘pannationalist front’ strategy to be pursued with ever-increasing vigour by the republican leadership. In addition to the attempt to get agreement on the need for ‘real national unity and independence’, this pan-nationalist strategy was to include republican agitation on what might be termed ‘campaigning issues’, arising from ‘the denial of self-determination’.54 As to precisely what was meant by this, one example was provided by the subject of alleged employment discrimination in Northern Ireland. Widespread concern over the existence of such discrimination had led to the launch of the MacBride Principles of Fair Employment, by the US-based Irish National Caucus in November 1984. These Principles were intended for American companies operating in Northern Ireland, to ensure that Catholics were fully represented within their labour forces.55 Sinn Féin soon gave them their firm backing. On the one hand, this support was premised on the professed belief that the Principles would help alleviate the ‘disadvantage and inequality suffered by the nationalists as a result of discrimination in employment practices’.56 In this way, it was very much of a piece with the enduring desire of the party to be seen as the voice of an assertive and strident ethnic nationalism in Northern Ireland; the representative of a community that was, ‘refusing to go back on [its] knees’.57 And here, Sinn Féin’s advocacy of the Principles could be contrasted favourably with the initial refusal of the SDLP to support them. Alongside this, Sinn Féin was also able to exploit the campaign around the Principles to underscore its position on the ‘national’ question. Thus, the very fact that the Principles had been deemed necessary was said to be a function of the ‘employment apartheid’ that flowed from partition. According to An Phoblacht/Republican News, ‘sectarianism and discrimination’ were the ‘bricks and mortar of the Six-County state’; they were alleged to be ‘synonymous’ with British rule.58 In this manner, the campaign could be used by republicans to stigmatize and further de-legitimize the Northern Irish state. For these reasons, therefore, the subject of employment discrimination in the north was just the sort of campaigning issue that could be used by Sinn Féin to highlight the denial of Irish self-determination. Similar in effect, was the issue of extradition in the south. Since 1984, at least, Sinn Féin had been trying to develop this as a major campaign theme in the Republic of Ireland. The party’s ard fheis of that year had passed five motions on the matter that called, in various ways, for republicans to be active and ‘serious’ participants in an anti-extradition campaign.59 Yet, as Martin McGuinness was forced to admit during his 1986 Bodenstown speech, in this endeavour his party had enjoyed little success.60 Nevertheless, the ratification of a new extradition treaty in 1987, following the new Fianna Fáil government’s volte-face on the matter (after it had opposed the measure when in opposition) appeared to present Sinn Féin with a fresh opportunity to agitate on the subject.61 It created anew the possibility that the party could,

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 57

in its own words, use extradition to highlight, ‘the 26 Counties’ collaboration with the British government in denying self-determination to the Irish people’.62 As a result, the extradition trials that were held in the Republic of Ireland in the late 1980s were given substantial coverage in An Phoblacht/Republican News. Campaigning against ‘extradition to British injustice’, Sinn Féin labelled Fianna Fáil as complicit in the ‘ultimate collaboration’ and the ‘final abandonment of any pretence to nationalism’.63 The party lambasted the ‘surrender of Irish sovereignty and the rights of Irish citizens’ and sought to make each of the extraditees in turn (from Robert Russell in early 1988, through to Dessie Ellis in late 1990) causes célèbres in Ireland.64 The Irish government, by implementing the extradition treaty, was said to be ‘doing Britain’s dirty work’ and engaging in a ‘shameful sell-out’.65 In this regard, extradition was portrayed as yet one more demonstration of Fianna Fáil’s ‘kow-towing and fore-lock tugging to Mrs Thatcher’ and its refusal to make ‘an end to partition . . . the foremost demand of Irish nationalism’.66 The considerable attention that Sinn Féin gave to this type of issue, then, was wholly in keeping with its effort to establish a republican-dominated pan-nationalist alliance with the parties of constitutional nationalism. For the belief of the Adams–McGuinness leadership was, as Tom Hartley’s 1988 internal discussion paper explained, that even if the leaderships of the other parties proved resistant to such an alliance in the immediate term, a ‘republican wedge’ could still be driven into the SDLP and Fianna Fáil.67 The rank-and-file of both these parties were assumed, by senior republicans, to be generally more ‘green’ than their leaderships and thus susceptible to ‘republican issues’.68 For this reason, it was supposed that Sinn Féin’s prominent involvement in ‘campaigning issues’, of the sort described, might be the vehicle for the insertion of this ‘republican wedge’. This hypothesis, it should be noted, was certainly not implausible. On the contrary, there was some evidence to support it. A significant section of Fianna Fáil, for instance, was, from the beginning, unhappy with the party leadership’s decision to endorse extradition. Such was the extent of this unhappiness that at the party’s 1990 ard fheis a motion was even passed calling for an end to the practice; a development that was followed with obvious interest by Sinn Féin.69 More broadly, meanwhile, as Bernadette Hayes and Ian McAllister have demonstrated, opinion polls throughout the 1970s and 1980s continued to show that between two-thirds and three-quarters of people in the Republic of Ireland favoured Irish unity (albeit as an ‘aspiration’, rather than an immediate political goal).70 That republicans were aware of such statistics is something that Jim Gibney has confirmed.71 The notion that there existed a broader constituency, stretching across the other political parties, for what Hartley labelled ‘republican issues’, was something by which the Adams–McGuinness leadership set great store.

58 The Long March

This idea was closely connected to what amounted to a virtual article of faith for many within the republican leadership: the idea that Irish society, as a whole, was pervaded by an enduring, latent nationalism. As the Sinn Féin President proclaimed in his speech to his party’s 1991 ard fheis, it was his belief that a ‘hidden Ireland’ of those who had remained ‘true to the Republic’ and had ‘never sold out’ had survived across the country.72 Similarly, in a 1989 interview with Playboy magazine, Adams declared, ‘the people of Ireland support us’. All that prevented them from showing it, he reasoned, was the fact that ‘the economy of the south is in terrible shape’.73 In the same interview, Danny Morrison also maintained that the truth was that, ‘Despite apprehensions, most of the people in the south do support reunification [emphasis in original].’74 Given that Sinn Féin’s actual level of support at that time comprised less than 2 per cent of the voting population, such claims from Morrison and Adams seem extraordinary.75 They are testament, though, to the enduring belief of the republican leadership that the people of Ireland were there to be ‘won’ for their cause. It was to precisely these people that Sinn Féin imagined itself speaking when it championed what it held to be the causes of ‘nationalist Ireland’. It was on this basis, according to Gibney, that Sinn Féin saw its central project as being ‘primarily to motivate the nationalist opinion on the island for independence’ and thereby, to waken ‘the sleeping giant of Irish nationalism’.76 In the long term, the Adams–McGuinness leadership hoped to rally nationalist Ireland to the republican banner. More immediately, meanwhile, it was imagined that the constitutional parties could gradually be brought to adopt increasingly ‘republican’ stances. These would, in turn, it was assumed, both de facto strengthen the push for a pan-nationalist alliance and also, in the words of Tom Hartley, expose the ‘soft underbelly’ of British efforts to bring stability to Northern Ireland. This ‘soft underbelly’ was presumed to be the SDLP in particular, which, despite its ‘reformist’ leadership, was thought to be ‘vulnerable to . . . national democratic demands’.77 Sinn Féin’s vocal promotion of precisely this sort of ‘demand’ was, therefore, seen as a critical avenue by which the republican movement might gain access to the nationalist ‘front’ that it desired and, thereby, head off the threat of an internal deal for Northern Ireland.

The ‘peace strategy’ The republican movement’s embrace of pan-nationalism was accompanied by a broader transformation in its use of language in this period. At the heart of this change, lay the recognition by the Adams–McGuinness leadership that it would not matter one iota what republicans said if no one was prepared to listen to them. Until that point, the ongoing IRA campaign, and Sinn Féin’s close association with it, had meant that this was invariably the case. Republicans tended to be ignored outright, or simply dismissed as ‘men of

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 59

violence’. What followed, therefore, was a determined effort to rebrand the party, as symbolized by the launching of its ‘peace strategy’ in 1987. Prior to the British general election of that year, Sinn Féin published its A Scenario for Peace manifesto.78 At the time, this document was largely written off as a restatement of traditional republican doctrine. In reality, however, it did mark a significant departure – if not in republican ideology, then in the way in which that ideology was presented. Of particular note, for instance, was the fact that the central republican demand was now defined explicitly as being one of ‘national selfdetermination’.79 As Moloney has underscored, this flexible phrase was to become a staple of republican rhetoric from this point onwards.80 Replacing the cruder ‘Brits Out’ call for ‘national liberation’, it carried legalistic connotations that appeared to couch the republican goal in less objectionable terms. Even as it retained the familiar ‘colonial’ analysis of British–Irish relations, it also called to mind the language of the United Nations and ‘international law’.81 As if to prove this point, A Scenario for Peace actually quoted the UN Charter on Self-Determination and other articles of international law in support of its case. Hence, while the arguments remained largely unchanged (with reference to the illegitimacy of partition, the ‘artificial majority’ of Unionism and the idea that the ‘Irish’ people comprised a single, territorially defined nation), they were now advanced in more articulate fashion.82 Alongside this, and of wider significance, was the fact that A Scenario for Peace also represented the beginning of a sustained attempt to reposition Sinn Féin as a party that actively sought ‘peace’. Gerry Adams has asserted that as far back as 1982, he and his associates had come to the conclusion that republicans needed to ‘reclaim’ the word ‘peace’.83 In truth, the evidence is that he had long been aware of the value of the term. After all, as early as 1976, Adams had penned a pamphlet defending an IRA Volunteer, Danny Lennon, whose out of control car had killed a mother and her three children in Belfast (after Lennon had been shot dead by the British army). The episode had led to the creation of the Peace People movement, which for a time brought considerable local pressure to bear on the IRA to halt its campaign. Adams’ pamphlet, entitled Peace in Ireland: A Broad Analysis of the Present Situation, responded to that pressure by asserting that all ‘violence in Ireland is the result of British imperialism’. Republicans, he argued, would have preferred peace, but were forced to engage in acts of ‘resistance’, in direct response to the British presence.84 In some ways, therefore, this short publication could be seen as an early precursor to A Scenario for Peace. The latter, though, was not a response to any immediate incident, but rather was the product of a far more deliberate and thought-out process, by which Sinn Féin sought, in the above cited words of Mitchel McLaughlin, to ‘reclaim’ the language of ‘peace’ for itself.85 What McLaughlin refers to as a ‘peace process’, however, is better understood, at this point, as a ‘peace

60 The Long March

strategy’ on the part of Sinn Féin; a strategy conceived as a means by which the party’s wider objectives might be achieved. With regards to the aim of increasing the electoral strength of the party, for example, it had become increasingly clear that Sinn Féin’s unequivocal support for the IRA’s armed struggle was inhibiting its performance. Danny Morrison has testified to this growing realization, saying: I remember canvassing in Strabane and a woman at her front door telling me that while she admired and liked the way we articulated the national question, she wouldn’t be voting for us. I asked her why not and she said simply, ‘Because of bombs’. So it was quite obvious that there was always going to be a ceiling to the vote . . . that there was a section of the nationalist community that had reservations about IRA activity.86 What was true for the nationalist community of Northern Ireland was even more so for the electorate in the south. For this reason, it made sense for Sinn Féin to disassociate itself from IRA activity. Further in keeping with this effort, it was possible for Adams, in late 1987, to speak of ‘not unambiguously’ supporting the IRA.87 Three years later, he further redefined his position to one of ‘critical’, as opposed to unreserved, support for the military organization.88 Such statements seemed a long way from the affirmation of ‘unambivalent’ support that Sinn Féin election candidates had previously offered to the IRA – or indeed, from Adams’ strident declaration in 1983 that, ‘If at any time Sinn Féin decide to disown the armed struggle they won’t have me as a member.’89 Not only was this shift in language designed to widen Sinn Féin’s appeal to the electorates on both sides of the Irish border, it was also very much in keeping with the effort to achieve a pan-nationalist alliance. In this context, the new vocabulary of ‘peace’ emanating from the republican movement became the ‘carrot’ by which other nationalist parties were enticed to engage with Sinn Féin. For not only did it become harder for them to justify not talking to the republican movement, if the latter appeared to be signalling a desire to end the conflict, but also there was the added allure of being able to play the role of peacemaker. Of this, republicans were only too aware. In particular, Sean O’Callaghan has stated that the republican leadership knew at the time, that they could use this ‘peacemaker’ lustre to appeal ‘hugely to John Hume’s ego’.90 That their hopes in this regard were far from fanciful is apparent from the fact that it was in 1988, less than a year after the formal launch of Sinn Féin’s ‘peace strategy’, that the party came together with the SDLP for direct talks. While those exchanges showed the clear lines of division between the parties (notably around the questions of whether Britain was a neutral, or partisan, player in the conflict and whether armed struggle was permissible), they could plausibly be portrayed as a new beginning for intra-nationalist

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relations. Valuable in this way, the republican movement also hoped that they would serve as a conduit by which it might establish relations with Fianna Fáil in the south as well. On this front, Adams had already made an indirect approach to the Fianna Fáil leader, Charles Haughey, prior to the Sinn Féin–SDLP talks occurring – indeed it was the effort to engage Haughey that led to the direct contact with Hume.91 Previously, republicans had attacked the ‘verbalized nationalism’ of Haughey, labelling his republicanism a ‘myth’ and describing him as an ‘unprincipled self-seeking millionaire, well-practised opportunist and conscious collaborator’.92 Yet, now he was the man with whom the Adams– McGuinness leadership looked to build the third link in the pan-nationalist chain. That this should have been so was a function of the fact that, for all their criticism of him, leading republicans had continued to view Haughey as a man with whom they might ‘do business’. Haughey’s willingness to take a tougher rhetorical stance on Northern Ireland undoubtedly helped foster such a view.93 The effect of this was such that Adams, writing in 1986, could describe the Fianna Fáil leader as someone who, for all his flaws, was ‘a genuine nationalist’.94 For this reason, Adams was prepared to approach Haughey; an approach that, as Ed Moloney has revealed, took the form of a letter from Fr. Alec Reid, that carried Adams’ imprimatur, which was delivered to Haughey by the Irish Press journalist, Tim Pat Coogan, in May 1987.95 A copy of the same letter was also delivered to John Hume in Londonderry. It called for the construction of a ‘common nationalist policy of aims and methods for resolving the conflict and establishing a just and lasting peace’.96 The hope of the republican leadership was that this sort of initiative, allied to the more peace-oriented discourse of Sinn Féin, might persuade both Fianna Fáil and the SDLP to join with it in a tripartite pan-nationalist alliance. To this end, it seems clear that republicans were prepared to suggest that this alliance might act as an alternative to the IRA’s campaign. After all, as Adams has admitted, the crux of the aforementioned 1985 discussion paper by Fr. Alec Reid was that a ‘nationalist front’, pursuing Irish national selfdetermination, could serve as an alternative vehicle for republicans to pursue their goals.97 It suited republicans to adopt this logic in their dealings with the constitutional parties; for by so doing, they could again use the attraction of peace to tempt those parties into the creation of the alliance they so desired. In this, the republican leadership clearly did enjoy some success. Haughey’s unwillingness to sanction face-to-face meetings between himself and Gerry Adams – as sought by the Sinn Féin President – did not prevent him from delegating responsibility for such a venture to John Hume. And the Fianna Fáil leader himself retained an input into the process via the presence of Martin Mansergh, his special adviser on Northern Irish matters, in talks with Sinn Féin. This set the stage for the 1988 talks between republicans

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and the SDLP. During those exchanges, the latter served as the de facto representative of constitutional nationalism, broadly conceived. And with hindsight the engagement between it and physical force republicanism was clearly a decisive moment in the history of the conflict.98 The association of the idea for a pan-nationalist alliance, with the notion of an end to the IRA’s armed struggle, it should be noted, has been picked up by Ed Moloney to fuel his revisionism as to the origins of the peace process. It is Moloney’s contention that this proposal surfaced soon after Gerry Adams first came into contact with Father Reid in 1982 and thereafter, it became a major element in a ‘secret peace process’, by which the Sinn Féin President sought, behind the backs of his comrades, to bring an end to the IRA’s campaign.99 In line with this, Moloney has argued that the 1987 letter from Reid to Haughey in 1987 offers further evidence as to the existence of just such a process. Moloney thus points to Reid’s call for political dialogue between Fianna Fáil and Sinn Féin and what the priest assumed would be the effect of that dialogue: ‘once it was under way, he believed, the IRA would respond and cooperate positively [emphasis added]’.100 From this, Moloney infers that the subtext was actually the offer of an IRA ceasefire and, as a result, the letter was part of Adams’ effort to achieve this – behind the backs of his ‘comrades’ – from as early as 1987. Crucially, however, the person doing the ‘believing’ in the above sentence was Reid, not Adams. In other words, the suggestion that the opening of dialogue would produce an IRA ceasefire was purely Reid’s interpretation. Nowhere was there an explicit offer of a ceasefire from Adams. Moreover, Moloney himself even appears to admit this, stating ‘There was one immediate problem with the Reid–Adams proposal. It was not entirely clear in what circumstances the IRA would declare a ceasefire.’101 Consequently, it seems difficult to sustain the notion that the letter signified yet another piece in the jigsaw of a secret peace process. Rather, it is surely more plausible to view it against the broader republican policy of trying to initiate negotiations, while simultaneously continuing the war. Where Moloney sees nascent ‘peace processing’, the reality was actually the continuation of a policy of talking while fighting. What is more, the truth of this was recognized by those most closely involved in these tentative efforts to begin intra-nationalist dialogue. Again, Moloney himself actually provides the evidence to this effect. He thus cites the opinion of no less a figure than Martin Mansergh, a man hardly renowned for his anti-peaceprocess views, when analysing the reasons why the letter initiative and the subsequent Sinn Féin–SDLP talks achieved nothing. According to Mansergh, as quoted by Moloney, this was because Both the SDLP and Fianna Fáil formed the view separately that northern republicans were not then ready to end their campaign, and that the primary aim of any continuing dialogue was to end their political isolation and build a broad front.102

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As a summation of republican strategic thinking at that time, Mansergh’s words could scarcely be more apposite; for they capture the truth of a policy that was, ultimately, not about peace, but about trying to establish dialogue between Sinn Féin and its constitutional nationalist rivals, with the aim of securing a pan-nationalist alliance, even as the IRA’s armed struggle continued. With that said, it should be acknowledged that one objection that could be raised in opposition to this reading, and in favour of Moloney’s view, is the fact that the pan-nationalist alliance approach did later come to comprise a central plank in the republican effort to end the IRA’s campaign. As shall be discussed, both Moloney and Henry Patterson have rightly identified this alliance as providing the intellectual rationale for the IRA cessations when they were called.103 However, the fact that, by 1994, Adams and the wider republican leadership had come to accept that some form of pan-nationalist alliance could form an alternative to the armed struggle, does not necessarily mean that this had always been the case. True, the Sinn Féin President has retrospectively sought to claim that this was indeed so, maintaining that his belief had long been that armed struggle was only necessary, ‘without an alternative’; the parallel assertion being that he had wished to build just such an alternative, in order to end the IRA’s campaign.104 That Adams should portray himself in such light, though, is unsurprising given that he remains an active politician, whose more recent political success has been heavily reliant on his own image as a peacemaker. As a result, he has a strong interest in placing himself firmly amid the origins of Northern Ireland’s peace process; something that his memoir does, as it asserts (actually in agreement with Moloney) that Adams was actively trying to create, ‘a new political dispensation’ to end the conflict as far back as 1982.105 Yet, it is also worth noting that the same memoir completely airbrushes Adams’ near-universally recognized career in the upper echelons of the IRA. On this basis alone, its reliability as a statement of historical record must necessarily be questioned. What is more, Adams’ claims on this matter must be balanced against the reality of what he and his comrades were thinking, saying and doing during the early and mid-1980s. For as has already been described, there was little in the way of ideological revisionism within the Adams–McGuinness leadership in this period. The conflict continued to be viewed through a colonial frame. As Adams stated during a 1989 interview, ‘[It is] a colonial struggle. There is a government from a neighbouring power that claims jurisdiction and sovereignty over another . . . they will leave only when they are forced to leave.’106 The corollary of this, as Adams testified in his 1986 exposition, The Politics of Irish Freedom, was that, while republicans would, ‘prefer a situation where armed struggle was unnecessary’, they remained of the view that ‘in the 6 counties armed struggle is a terrible but necessary form of resistance’.107 The response of Martin McGuinness to the famous ‘one hundred days in office’ speech of the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland,

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Peter Brooke, in 1989, was in a similar vein. On that occasion, Brooke had spoken of the British being ‘imaginative’ if republicans ended their violent campaign.108 McGuinness was swift to affirm that, while Sinn Féin was interested in Brooke’s words, no one within the party believed that Irish freedom could be won ‘only’ through politics and elections.109 For the republican leadership, armed struggle was the only basis on which to proceed. The written observations of Sinn Féin’s then general secretary, Tom Hartley, during an internal Sinn Féin conference in May 1988, offer a still clearer insight into the important role that republicans continued to foresee for the IRA campaign at this time. In annotations made to his copy of the conference programme (presumably in the course of speeches and debate), Hartley recorded that the value of the armed struggle was that it continued to ‘keep the pot boiling’.110 In other words, the notion of IRA violence as constituting a military ‘veto’, keeping Northern Ireland ‘ungovernable’, until the British realized they had no option but to negotiate withdrawal, was still to the fore. As Hartley stated, it was by the armed struggle that republicans would ‘fight their way to the negotiating table’.111 What makes Hartley’s comments all the more interesting is the fact that they were made just a few months after the IRA bombed a Remembrance Day service in the town of Enniskillen in Fermanagh in November 1987. The scale of that atrocity (which took the lives of eleven people) and the televised, extraordinarily compassionate reaction to it of Gordon Wilson, the father of one of the victims (his daughter Marie), had unleashed a wave of condemnation against the republican movement across Ireland. Subsequently, there were again suggestions that internment was on the point of being re-introduced, with Adams admitting it was, ‘now a live option’ and likely to be on a ‘32-County basis’.112 Such an outcome was, according to Sean O’Callaghan, a ‘recurring nightmare’ for the republican leadership because ‘by this time they were coming to realize that most people in the south of Ireland couldn’t have cared less if a few guys from Belfast – which is pretty much what the IRA was now seen as – were picked up’.113 Furthermore, even though their fears in this regard were not realized, there was no doubting the enormous damage done to Sinn Féin by the IRA’s ‘mistake’. At the aforementioned internal conference, for example, the Dublin activist, Jim Monaghan, had pointed to the ‘devastating’ impact it had had ‘in terms of votes lost’.114 Adams himself, meanwhile, acknowledged elsewhere that, ‘Our efforts to broaden our base have most certainly been upset in all the areas we have selected for expansion . . . Our plans for expansion have been dealt a body blow.’115 And yet, even after this episode, it is clear that the Adams–McGuinness leadership remained convinced of the indispensability of armed struggle. As a result, the IRA’s campaign of violence continued unabated throughout this period and was given full coverage in An Phoblacht/Republican News. The IRA, it declared, was ‘everywhere’ and the organization promised to ‘meet

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force with force’.116 Attacks, such as that which claimed the lives of ten royal marines at an army barracks in Deal in Kent, were described as an ‘integral part of IRA strategy’.117 Furthermore, the ultimate objective of that strategy was still being described as ‘to break the will of the British government to remain in Ireland’.118 Thus, as the above-cited, post-Enniskillen comments by Hartley and McGuinness make clear, the logic of the IRA as a ‘cutting edge’ remained intact, albeit with some question marks as to the bluntness of the blade. It was only by armed struggle that the republican leadership believed it could bring the British to accept a deal on its terms. Viewed in this context, Sinn Féin’s ‘peace strategy’ at this time must be understood for what it was: an attempt to assuage the worst aspects of the IRA campaign, without fundamentally challenging the basis upon which that campaign was being conducted. The notion that the republican leadership was, in this period, of the belief that an unarmed struggle could constitute a viable alternative to the IRA’s military campaign seems difficult to sustain. Any such notion appears to be singularly absent from the thinking of Adams and those close to him. Rather, their vision remained that of a holistic republican movement that would successfully combine the military and the political struggles.

Political development: working towards the ‘mainstream’ Sinn Féin’s adoption of the peace strategy must be set within the context of a broader effort by the party to bring itself ‘in from the cold’. To achieve this, in addition to the pursuit of pan-nationalist unity, the party also increasingly sought to become part of the political mainstream. Only by so doing, did the Adams–McGuinness leadership believe that the twin dangers of isolation and marginalization could be avoided, particularly in the Republic of Ireland. However, the drive to enter the political mainstream south of the border required Sinn Féin to confront one of the great shibboleths of republican theology: abstentionism. Following Sinn Féin’s disastrous performance in the February 1982 general election in the Republic, the Adams–McGuinness leadership had quickly come to the conclusion that the policy of ‘abstentionism’ (the party’s refusal to take seats in the Irish Parliament) could not be retained, if Sinn Féin wished to make a genuine political breakthrough. With the party already viewed as a predominantly northern entity, preoccupied with its ‘war’ in Northern Ireland, abstentionism ensured that the vast majority of the southern electorate saw Sinn Féin as an irrelevance. In elections devoid of the immediate emotionalism of the hunger strike (as the February 1982 poll had been), this was hardly a recipe for political success, a fact undoubtedly not lost on the republican leadership. Hence, while Gerry Adams has since claimed that it was not until 1985 that he became convinced of the case against abstentionism, it seems likely

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that the decision was made some time during 1982. Certainly, by the time of his interview with Magill magazine in 1983, for example, he was already displaying signs of ambiguity on the issue. He therefore told this interlocutor that, with regard to the Republic of Ireland, republicans could not afford to be ‘burying their heads in the sand’. Instead, he called on them to devise a strategy that, ‘appreciates that most people in the 26 counties see those institutions [i.e. the Dáil] as legitimate’. This could not be done, he argued, ‘without taking into account the effects of the acceptance of the State institutions and the effect an abstentionist policy by Republicans is going to have on that strategy’.119 Though he did then go on to restate Sinn Féin’s stance and declared that ‘whilst that remains the position I will support it’, Adams’ comments hardly represented the most whole-hearted of endorsements of party policy.120 Danny Morrison, in his own interview with Magill, in which he too observed that the majority of people in the south viewed the Dáil as ‘legitimate’, took a similar line. Abstentionism was, Morrison noted, a ‘handicap’ for the republican movement.121 Despite such indications of a desire for change on the part of the leadership, though, it was not until Sinn Féin’s 1986 ard fheis that the abstentionist policy was dropped. That this should have been so was a reflection of the sensitivity of the issue. As Agnès Maillot has pointed out, abstentionism was one of the twin pillars upon which the identity of ‘Provisional’ republicanism originally rested (the other being a commitment to armed struggle).122 It helped define the movement vis-à-vis other republican groups; again, none more so than the ‘Officials’, given that the 1969–70 split in republicanism had been fuelled by this issue.123 Added to this was the fact that the broader shadow of history loomed large over any effort to alter republican policy on the subject. All other republican parties that had moved to take up seats in existing parliamentary institutions were perceived to have ended up ‘betraying’ the ‘struggle’. As a result, abstentionism had become, for many, a sacred principle that symbolized the republican movement’s continuing adherence to the ‘true’ Republic. Any attempt to remove it was, therefore, liable to be fraught with difficulty and carried the potential of provoking division in republican ranks. In recognition of this, the Adams–McGuinness leadership was clearly prepared to move slowly. Indeed, Danny Morrison has since acknowledged that, ‘in order to minimize the size of the split, the abstention debate was stretched out over many years. We had to convince people of the merit [of it].’124 Accordingly, even though Adams and Morrison had raised the issue in 1983 and 1984, little effort was made to follow through on it at that time. As has been seen, their criticism of existing policy was cautious and couched in expressions of support for that policy. Nevertheless, by simply starting the debate they had begun the process of creating the intellectual climate in which it was possible to conceive of changes. Their aim, thereafter, was to ensure the overwhelming bulk of the movement was brought along to accept

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those changes. For the Adams–McGuinness leadership this point was crucial. A premium was placed on maintaining the unity of the movement to the greatest possible extent. The precise details of the way in which the Adams–McGuinness leadership manoeuvred the broader republican movement towards the removal of abstentionism have been addressed in length elsewhere.125 In the present context, it is enough to say that nothing was left to chance. Above all, the leadership emphasized, time and again, that its call for a shift in policy was driven, ultimately, by its desire for victory, in terms of its republican objectives. To this end, all possible moves were to be deemed acceptable. The message, fundamentally, was that the ends would justify the means – or as Tom Hartley stated during the ‘dress rehearsal’ debate on abstentionism at the 1985 ard fheis, ‘there is a principle riding above all principles and that is the principle of success’.126 That the bulk of the republican movement was persuaded of this essential tenet can be gauged from the result of the abstentionism debate: ultimately, the party voted 429–161 in favour of the motion to abandon the policy.127 While this did prompt a walkout of ‘traditionalists’ (as in 1970, led by Ruairi Ó Brádaigh and Daithi O’Conaill), who left to form ‘Republican Sinn Féin’, these were few in number and predominantly middle-aged, or elderly, ‘pre-’69’ southern republicans. The leadership itself remained solidly behind Adams and McGuinness, as confirmed by the fact that no member of the incumbent Sinn Féin ard chomhairle left to join ‘Republican Sinn Féin’.128 By the same token, there was almost no split on the military side of the movement, with the IRA remaining united under the ‘Provisional’ leadership. And, while a very small-scale splinter group did emerge among republican prisoners (the ultra-leftist ‘League of Communist Republicans’ under Tommy McKearney and Pat Mullin), this made almost no impact outside the prisons and disappeared a few years later.129 Overall, the Adams–McGuinness leadership preserved the unity of the republican movement to a remarkable degree. Set against previous experiences surrounding the abstentionism issue, their success in this regard was unprecedented. Moreover, the minor defections that did occur were, to a great extent, actually to the benefit of the leadership, as they served to make things easier. The removal from the movement of an extreme ‘leftist’ fringe on the one hand, and a ‘traditional’, or ‘fundamentalist’, republican old guard on the other, opened the way for the Adams–McGuinness leadership to pursue further changes. In line with this, there was now an effort to accelerate Sinn Féin’s entry into the political mainstream. Beyond the abandonment of abstentionism, this was to involve, in the words of Gerry MacLochlainn, a long-time supporter of the Adams–McGuinness leadership, the search for ‘more substantial forces’ in political terms. Contrasting this period with the earlier phase in the party’s development, MacLochlainn has noted that, ‘During the

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early 1980s . . . we had spent time chasing after solidarity groups in Europe that were on the fringe left . . . because we really had nothing else. Now we were in a position to look to much more substantial forces around the world.’130 This search was, from the beginning, not confined to purely domestic politics. On the contrary, perhaps the first place the shift in emphasis became visible (even prior to the ending of abstentionism back in Ireland) was in the United States of America. There, Sinn Féin commenced tentative efforts to build up the scale and quality of its operations. The signal for this shift came in April 1986, when delegates from the party’s US affiliate, the Irish Northern Aid Committee (NORAID) held a two-day meeting with Sinn Féin leaders in Dublin. Until then, the American organization had focused its energies almost entirely on providing material assistance to the republican cause in Ireland. In the wake of the Dublin meeting, however, this began to change. From that point, NORAID began increasingly to involve itself in more explicitly ‘political’ work such as lobbying. In addition, it was brought much more closely under the control of Sinn Féin, with the latter creating a Northern American Committee (comprising Gerry Adams, Joe Cahill [the man effectively seen as Sinn Féin’s ‘ambassador’ in the US] and Ted Howell [then the party’s director of foreign affairs]) to oversee NORAID’s affairs. Inevitably, such changes aroused opposition from ‘traditionalists’, including the group’s founder, Michael Flannery, who continued to see the primary purpose of NORAID as being the provision of material assistance for the IRA’s armed struggle.131 Ultimately, this provoked a split within the movement with the founding of a new organization, the Friends of Irish Freedom, in 1988, which was ‘devoted exclusively to raising funds for the families of republican prisoners’.132 The similarity here with the domestic rupture of the republican movement, over the issue of abstentionism two years earlier, was clear. In keeping with this, the new group unsurprisingly announced its allegiance to Ó Brádaigh’s ‘Republican Sinn Féin’ (RSF). As was the case with RSF in Ireland, however, support for the new organization within the Irish-American community remained marginal – in part because Sinn Féin moved quickly and intelligently to crush the effectiveness of the dissidents. Thus, a series of senior republicans, including Brendan Hughes, the leader of the first hunger strike in 1980, were dispatched to the US to persuade those wavering in their affiliations to stay within NORAID.133 That such measures proved successful can be seen from the fact that NORAID survived the split with the bulk of its members staying loyal. Moreover, as within Sinn Féin proper, it may actually have helped the new leadership to push its new direction further than might otherwise have been possible had the ‘traditionalists’ remained. In the wake of the split, men such as the new chairman, Paul Murray, and Martin Galvin set about removing NORAID’s clandestine and conspiratorial image and involving it in mainstream political action.

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In this way, developments in the US paralleled those back in Ireland. They were two facets of a holistic strategy driven by the Adams–McGuinness leadership, which sought to recast Sinn Féin as a mainstream political party. Domestically, as has already been discussed, a key feature of that repositioning was an accentuation of the party’s nationalist character, coupled to a new emphasis on the language of ‘peace’, in the context of an effort to create a pan-nationalist alliance. However, as Gerry Adams noted during his Bodenstown oration in 1989, the attempt to build a nationalist-inspired ‘mass movement’ constituted only part of the task that the leadership foresaw for Sinn Féin. It was to be accompanied by a renewed effort to build, ‘a relevant and active campaigning party’.134 It was with this latter goal in mind that Sin Féin continued to involve itself heavily in community-based work on both sides of the Irish border. It remained immersed in immediate issues affecting ‘ordinary people’, such as unemployment, housing shortages, urban petty crime and drugs problems.135 With regards to the latter, for instance, this period witnessed the apogee of the Concerned Parents campaign, particularly in the years after 1987. Once again, this was given extensive coverage within An Phoblacht/Republican News, with republicans also playing a major role on the ground.136 In the north, meanwhile, the IRA continued to play a prominent role in ‘community policing’, targeting what it claimed were the ‘small minority of thugs and gangsters in nationalist areas’ who were alleged to be making the lives of ordinary people miserable.137 The result was a series of actions, as reported in An Phoblacht/Republican News, in which alleged ‘drug dealers’ and ‘hoods’ received punishments, including beatings, shootings and being ‘exiled’ from Belfast, or even Ireland.138 Such actions by the IRA were again said to have ‘overwhelming local acceptance’ and, while republicans acknowledged that they were a ‘far from ideal response’, they deemed them to be ‘regrettably sometimes necessary’.139 Republicans thus maintained their involvement in community politics, at this most basic level, both north and south of the Irish border. Alongside this, though, there was also an attempt at this time to develop a more sophisticated and serious political message; to confront the fact that Sinn Féin was, in the words of one republican, ‘isolated – cut off from the mainstream of political thinking’.140 As the veteran republican and leadership ally, Jim McAllister, explained to an internal party conference in May 1988, this isolation was perceived to be, to a large extent, ‘self-imposed . . . through lack of relevancy on many issues’. Consequently, McAllister argued, Sinn Féin needed to engage anew with mainstream politics, in order to make itself a ‘realistic political alternative’.141 That Sinn Féin could still not be classified as such had been made plain by the results of the February 1987 general election in the Republic of Ireland. Coming only a few months after the party had abandoned abstentionism, Gerry Adams had previously sought to moderate expectations within the movement as to what could be achieved. Prior to the poll he

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had stated that the removal of abstentionism would not be, ‘a “magic wand” solution to all our problems’. It would take at least two elections, he asserted, before Sinn Féin reaped the benefits of its change in policy.142 Nonetheless, the dismal performance of the party in the 1987 contest undoubtedly came as something of a shock, even for Adams. With the party receiving a mere 1.7 per cent of the vote, the Sinn Féin President was understating things somewhat when he subsequently admitted that the party’s performance had been ‘unsatisfactory’.143 An Phoblacht/Republican News was more candid in acknowledging the truth, declaring that, ‘Frankly, Sinn Féin was not seen by the electorate as a credible alternative to any of the long-established parties or to the many independents and parties of the left against whom it was competing for rural and urban working-class votes.’144 It was against this backdrop, then, that the aforementioned internal republican magazine, Iris Bheag, was created in 1987, to serve as a, ‘means of exchanging ideas and developing Sinn Féin’s policies and strategies for discussion’.145 The leadership had realized that it was not enough for Sinn Féin to simply object to the existing system. In the words of the Belfast councillor, Mairtin O’Muilleor, Sinn Féin members had to move beyond being ‘politicians who attack everyone else’s economic policies but have none of their own’.146 This, of course, required that such policies be given substance and it was this purpose that underlay the inception of Iris Bheag and the broader effort to develop Sinn Féin’s position on mainstream issues. With regards to the question of what exactly were presumed to constitute mainstream political issues, the first edition of Iris Bheag offered a clear signal. It contained ‘instructions’ that were to be sent to each Sinn Féin comhairle ceantair (district executive), on how to agitate around the issue of the health cuts imposed by the new Fianna Fáil government in the Republic of Ireland.147 Previously, the party had publicly attacked those cuts as indicative of Fianna Fáil’s descent into ‘Thatcherism’.148 Here, though, they were said to provide Sinn Féin with ‘a very important opportunity for work’. By placing ‘Fianna Fáil’s betrayal of the electorate in stark terms’, the cuts were thought to provide the party with ‘a means of politicising the people’.149 In such manner did the republican leadership believe that Sinn Féin could make itself active on this issue: through the application of the party’s campaigning, grassroots approach to mainstream politics. In addition to this, the leadership also recognized that Sinn Féin needed to construct realistic policy programmes. In keeping with this, new emphasis was placed on developing concrete policy on subjects such as Health and Education. With regards to the latter, for example, the 1989 ard fheis saw Sinn Féin discuss and adopt five motions on the subject that were not only more detailed than those of previous years, but which also dealt with practical improvements that could be made to the system.150 Similarly, the prominence attached to the issue of Health at Sinn Féin’s ard fheiseanna increased

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 71

markedly in this period. The clar (agenda) for the party’s 1987 gathering, for instance, listed twenty-four motions on the topic, now subdivided into ‘6 County’ and ‘26 County’ sections.151 By contrast, the 1984 ard fheis had seen only six motions brought forward on the subject, with no effort made to distinguish between the different systems in place, north and south.152 Moreover, by 1987, the motions passed during the debate included tangible proposals as to how the health service could be enhanced, particularly in the south, of the sort that had been singularly absent a few years previously. This changing approach to Health and Education was representative of the wider effort to develop the character of Sinn Féin’s politics, in order to facilitate its entry into the mainstream. Nevertheless, it should be stressed that while leadership figures such as Jim McAllister repeated Adams’ earlier comments about the dangers of ultra-left politics, they also called on the party to retain its radical edge and establish ‘correct left positions’.153 In line with this, Sinn Féin continued, for example, to be vehemently opposed to the neo-liberal economic model pursued by successive Dublin governments.154 It also continued to develop its ‘women’s policy’ agenda so as to make it a more credible statement of progressive intent on such issues.155 Ultimately, the aim of the Adams–McGuinness leadership was not that Sinn Féin should abandon all radical positions in the effort to enter the political mainstream; rather, the leadership wished the party to occupy a position of serious, yet clear, opposition to the perceived political consensus in the Republic of Ireland. As An Phoblacht/Republican News stated in the run-up to the 1987 election, what the party wanted, above all, was to offer both something different from ‘the Tweedle-dum/Tweedle-dee politics of the establishment’ and ‘real change on political, social and economic issues’.156

Conclusion By the end of the 1980s, Sinn Féin was determinedly pursuing its goal of entering the political mainstream, in an attempt to ward off the enduring threat of isolation. The stabilization of the party’s vote in Northern Ireland in 1984–5, the ensuing Anglo-Irish Agreement and the persistent failure of the party in the Republic of Ireland had ensured this threat remained palpable. Sinn Féin’s response had been, on the one hand, to seek a pan-nationalist alliance with the SDLP and Fianna Fáil. On the other, it had sought to develop its own image as an electable, mainstream political party, particularly in the south. On both counts, however, its exertions proved to be in vain. With regards to the possible pan-nationalist front, while republicans could herald the 1988 talks as a promising development, contacts with the SDLP stalled somewhat thereafter (though Adams did remain in personal communication with Hume).157 In relation to Sinn Féin’s electoral ambitions,

72 The Long March

meanwhile, 1989 brought decisive evidence as to the party’s enduring failure. In Northern Ireland, local elections that year saw the party’s share of the vote drop.158 Although Adams still proclaimed the results to be ‘excellent’ and ‘encouraging’, others were less sanguine.159 Mitchel McLaughlin, for instance, admitted that the party’s performance was an indictment of its ‘failure to attract support across the political spectrum’.160 Even more demonstrative of this truth were the results achieved by Sinn Féin in the Republic of Ireland in 1989. In the European elections held in June, the party received just over 2 per cent of the vote and in no constituency came close to challenging for a seat.161 The Sinn Féin President again attempted to downplay the seriousness of this defeat, claiming that it was ‘not an election which greatly interested our supporters’.162 To some extent this may have been true, but the same excuse could not be applied to the general election, which was held in the south concurrently with the European poll. In that contest, Sinn Féin actually fared even worse, with its share of the vote declining to a mere 1.2 per cent (down on the 1.7 per cent achieved in 1987).163 Back in 1986, when the party had ended its abstentionist policy, Adams had declared that the fruits of that shift would only become evident in two elections’ time; the 1989 contest was thus meant to be the moment when Sinn Féin’s fortunes showed signs of improvement. Instead, the party seemed to veer ever closer to complete electoral oblivion. This, in spite of the fact that Sinn Féin now promised to serve within the Dáil and had attempted to engage with mainstream politics. Amplifying this failure still further was the fact that, in 1989, conditions were perhaps even more favourable to a party offering a coherent electoral alternative than they had been earlier in the decade. Fianna Fáil’s adoption of a neo-liberal economic agenda after 1987, and the support it received for doing so from Fine Gael (the ‘Tallaght Strategy’ of its leader Alan Dukes), meant opportunities clearly did exist for a party that could present the electorate with a cohesive and viable political ‘alternative’.164 As the elections showed, however, Sinn Féin was wholly incapable of grasping such chances. Yet more galling still, was the fact that it was the Workers’ Party (the vehicle of the former ‘Official’ republican movement) that did benefit, as it secured its best ever result and had seven candidates elected to the Dáil.165 In this context, Adams conceded that Sinn Féin had been unable, ‘to persuade any sizeable sections of the electorate of our relevancy’.166 Nevertheless, he also argued that the party could still rectify this by working ever harder to deal with the ‘legacy of elitism and bad organisation’, which he claimed was its inheritance from the abstentionist era.167 Others likewise called for patience, asserting that ‘Sinn Féin can be built and will get public support in time [emphasis in original].’168 Alongside this, though, there appears to have been a growing awareness that the critical inhibitor of Sinn Féin’s electoral performance was the IRA’s armed struggle. Hence, Mitchel

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 73

McLaughlin, when discussing the party’s results in Northern Ireland’s 1989 local elections, noted that IRA operations that went wrong did have an effect because in a sense Sinn Féin is held accountable at a local level for all aspects of the republican struggle . . . you have aspects of the war which cause problems, which pose questions, sometimes moral questions for ordinary voters.169 Up until this point, as has been shown, the Adams–McGuinness leadership had continued to believe in the necessity of the armed campaign. For this reason, the republican movement had continued to follow an updated version of the ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ approach. The essential compatibility of the two prongs of this strategy had scarcely begun to be challenged by the republican leadership. The launching of the peace strategy was the product of a desire to change Sinn Féin’s image, rather than originating in reservations as to the utility of armed struggle itself. The latter was still seen as a crude, but essential, form of republican veto that both exerted pressure on the British government and helped prevent a settlement of the conflict on non-republican terms. For this reason, as Martin McGuinness had declared in 1988, there were to be ‘no more ceasefires’; rather, ‘talk’ could take place, ‘but the war will go on’.170 Similarly, the following year, an IRA spokesperson had affirmed that the military campaign would be maintained until, ‘the will of the British government to remain in this country [is] broken . . . there will be no ceasefire and no truces until Britain declares its intent to withdraw and leave our people in peace’.171 Ironically, though, even as this latter statement was being made, the assumptions upon which it was based were finally beginning to be reassessed by the Adams–McGuinness leadership.

3 Towards Negotiation and the ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’, 1990–7

‘The republican aim in the peace process is to map a way out of armed conflict [and] to do so in the best possible political circumstances, so as to allow the united Ireland programme to emerge.’ Jim Gibney1

Introduction As the 1980s drew to a close, the republican movement’s modus operandi had been essentially unchanged since the inauguration of the ‘long war’ over a decade earlier. While there had been some modifications to its precise workings, the ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ approach remained intact. Such modifications as there had been had sought merely to refine the IRA’s armed struggle to make it more compatible with the electoral ambitions of Sinn Féin. There had, though, been little questioning by the Adams–McGuinness leadership of the notion that the military campaign remained an indispensable part of the republican armoury. As has been intimated, accepting this contention entails a rejection of the thesis put forward by Ed Moloney, as to the origins of the republican leadership’s re-evaluation of armed struggle. Given the prominence of Moloney’s account, it is perhaps worth exploring in further detail the problems with his line of argument; for at first glance his narrative appears to be a persuasive one. The importance that Moloney attaches to Fr. Alec Reid’s letter to Charles Haughey in 1987 has already been discussed. Alongside this, Moloney has also convincingly tracked the start of the process by which the republican movement sought to negotiate with the British state, to the same period. In this regard he has uncovered another letter, sent sometime in late 1986, or early 1987, from Adams himself to the then Secretary of State, Tom King.2 On the basis of this letter, allied to that of Reid to Haughey (and Hume), Moloney constructs his story of a decade-long ‘secret peace process’, driven by the machinations of Gerry Adams, to end the IRA’s campaign. 74

Towards Negotiation and the ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’, 1990–7 75

Unfortunately, this narrative, however appealing, is hard to square with the reality of events. For whereas Moloney would argue that Adams, by seeking contact with King, showed weakness through his willingness to talk peace, it is more appropriate to view this as, once more, an extension of the republican policy of ‘fighting while negotiating’.3 As has been described, it was through this dual-pronged process that republicans believed victory would be theirs, thereby replicating the Vietnam model that was held in such high esteem. Moloney’s mistake is to perceive talking and fighting as two mutually exclusive realms. True, this was the position of the British state (as stated in King’s response to Adams’ letter), and it was this view that ultimately won out. The republican movement was thus forced to accept that the IRA would have to end its armed struggle if it wanted negotiations to begin. During the 1980s, though, this was not how the republican leadership viewed things. Instead, it continued to believe that it would be possible to get into a situation where the ‘war’ continued, even as dialogue proceeded. As Moloney himself notes, it was the British realization that this was indeed the case – that when it came to talking peace in 1987, republicans ‘were spoofing’ – that ended any prospect of negotiations at that time.4 For this reason, the existence of the Adams– King letter must be seen not as another expression of a secret peace process, but again as a symptom of the republican leadership’s ‘fighting while negotiating’ strategy; a strategy that was abandoned, not as Moloney has argued, in the early to mid-1980s, but, instead, only at the very end of the decade and in the first years of the 1990s. An indication that it was not until this later period that a genuine reassessment began among the republican leadership is offered by Danny Morrison, who until his arrest was a central member of the Adams–McGuinness leadership. Morrison has stated that the first inkling he had of any changed approach to the armed struggle was the IRA’s Christmas ceasefire of 1990. Further, regarding the question of when the re-appraisal began, which led to even that short ceasefire, he claims that ‘it hadn’t happened, certainly, by January 1990 [when Morrison was arrested]’.5 In similar vein, even one of the foremost critics of the Adams–McGuinness leadership, Anthony McIntyre, has conceded that it was only in this period that he himself began to sense that the armed struggle was subject to re-evaluation. It was this awareness that prompted the then imprisoned McIntyre to write a long essay (under the pseudonym of ‘Susini’), entitled ‘Armed Struggle – A Strategical Imperative’, which argued that the military campaign should be continued.6 The reality is, therefore, that it was only as the Northern Irish conflict moved into its third decade that the republican leadership began to review this core precept. As the senior republican Jim Gibney has commented, whereas ‘the 1980s were characterized by conflict’, it was only the ‘1990s that saw new thinking begin to take shape in the national leadership of the movement’.7 In line with this, the first public admission of a shift in outlook arrived in 1992, when Gerry Adams began to speak of a ‘new realism’ among

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republicans.8 The context for Adams’ remark was significant: it followed the unveiling, a week earlier, of Sinn Féin’s Towards a Lasting Peace document at that year’s ard fheis.9 As Brian Feeney has described, this marked a definitive watershed in the approach of the republican movement.10 It is a view endorsed by the Sinn Féin President himself, who has since referred to it as heralding a ‘major shift’ in attitude.11 Justification for such conclusions can be seen from a brief analysis of the fresh ground that republicans broke at this time. For example, Towards a Lasting Peace saw the republican movement set aside its demand for a precise time frame for British withdrawal. This immediately marked it out as different from A Scenario for Peace, which had maintained that this was necessary (and recommended that the lifetime of one British Parliament serve as a suitable period).12 Of even greater significance, was the fact that this change in attitude to the timing of withdrawal was tied to an evolving image of how the negotiations leading to it might proceed. Now, the republican leadership appeared increasingly open to the suggestion that these might follow an end to the IRA’s armed struggle. The endorsement of this idea marked a fundamental move away from the ‘fighting while negotiating’ template that was previously dominant. The logic of this was underlined by Jim Gibney in his landmark Bodenstown oration of 1992, when he categorically stated: We know and accept that the British government’s departure must be preceded by a sustained period of peace and will arise out of negotiations. We know and accept that such negotiations will involve the different shades of Irish nationalism, and Irish unionism engaging the British government either together or separately to secure an all-embracing and durable peace process [emphasis added].13 Elsewhere, meanwhile, Martin McGuinness now spoke of ‘interim arrangements’ that might follow an IRA ceasefire, but precede actual British withdrawal.14 What such comments revealed was the slow recognition of the Adams– McGuinness leadership that republican involvement in negotiations might only be possible if the IRA first ended its campaign of violence. By the same token, there was a growing cognizance of the fact that a British declaration of intent to withdraw from Ireland would not come in advance of an end to the armed struggle. These twin conclusions lay at the heart of the ‘new realism’. Again, though, it is important to emphasize that the republican leadership’s growing awareness of the unavoidable truth of this was not the product of a rapid, or total, conversion to the cause of peace. On the contrary, it would appear that the evolution in the thinking of people like Adams and McGuinness was halting, even tortuous. For the longest time, it seems clear that the republican leadership continued to believe that ‘fighting and

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negotiating’ would prevail; that the IRA’s campaign would not have to be abandoned in order for talks to begin. Hence, while it is true that from as early as 1989 there was a noticeable shift in rhetoric from republican spokespeople, as they began to call more explicitly for ‘dialogue to end the conflict’, this was allied to the insistence that any such dialogue be ‘without preconditions’.15 The notion that the IRA campaign should halt to facilitate talks was derided as an ‘intransigent demand’.16 Instead, according to Adams and his party, what was required was ‘open-ended dialogue to discuss all the issues which create political violence in Ireland and the steps necessary to bring it to an end’.17 This stance was maintained throughout 1990 and 1991, with the republican leadership repeatedly calling for a ‘real peace process’ to be constructed, involving all parties ‘without preconditions’.18 Even in 1992, as the new realism was being articulated, a key leadership figure such as Mitchel McLaughlin could be found arguing, with reference to the international situation of the time, that no one . . . in Ireland, Britain or elsewhere demanded a ceasefire as an absolute precondition to the launching of the Bosnian talks . . . the logic of inclusive dialogue currently being pursued in the Middle East, in South Africa and now in eastern Europe . . . should now be employed in the North [of Ireland] to break the cycle of violence.19 In the meantime, moreover, the IRA continued to prosecute its campaign with as much vigour as it could muster. From 1989 onwards this included a major bombing offensive against the English mainland, with IRA spokespeople declaring their determination to hit the British in, ‘the “belly of the beast” [and] where it hurts most’.20 Such rhetoric was matched with a series of attacks on numerous high-profile targets: from the Carlton Club to Canary Wharf, from Downing Street to the Stock Exchange.21 What all of this reflects, then, is the extent to which the republican leadership remained fundamentally unaltered at an ideological level. The new realism of republicans was not a consequence of change in this sphere. Acknowledgement of this, serves as an important corrective to the various misinterpretations that have been made in relation to the supposed ‘revisionism’ of the Adams–McGuinness leadership. It has, for example, been suggested that republicans had come to accept the argument of John Hume and the SDLP, that the British, in light of the Anglo-Irish Agreement, should be seen as a ‘neutral’ presence in Ireland.22 After all, it was now possible to hear Martin McGuinness argue that, ‘In the new European and post-Cold War situation, Britain no longer had any strategic interests in Ireland’.23 And yet, it seems clear that comments of this nature were far from indicative of an acceptance of British ‘neutrality’. On the contrary, this continued to be firmly rejected by the republican leadership in this period.24 An article by ‘Hilda McThomas’ (a nom de plume generally understood to represent the views of

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the Adams–McGuinness leadership) in the February 1991 edition of Fortnight, for instance, explicitly refuted the idea that the British were neutral, declaring that, ‘the only neutral act a colonising power can perform in relation to a colony is to leave, taking care to make full reparations and helping to demilitarise the conflict it created’.25 In similar vein, Martin McGuinness, when speaking to Sinn Féin’s ard fheis two years later, in February 1993, stated baldly that, ‘the British of course are not referees in this dispute and we repudiate any attempts to portray them as neutral’.26 On such basis, it seems entirely appropriate to question the extent of the republican leadership’s ideological revisionism on the nature of the British presence in Ireland. Equally, the same must surely be the case with regard to the republican view of Unionism, which is often depicted as having undergone a transformation in this period – the suggestion being that it was this that opened the way towards the later peace agreement. Again, in support of claims to this effect, a series of articles by Gerry Adams and Mitchel McLaughlin can be identified in which they appeared to discuss the ‘Unionist issue’ in newly emollient terms. For example, in a piece first carried by the internal republican magazine The Starry Plough in late 1991 (and reprinted for external consumption the following year in Fingerpost), McLaughlin called on republicans, ‘to understand and empathise’ with Protestants, so as to achieve a, ‘reapproachment [sic] with the Unionist community’.27 ‘The republican quarrel’, McLaughlin argued, ‘is with the British state in Ireland and the truth is that we cannot and should not ever try to coerce the Protestant people into a united Ireland.’28 In an additional article, which also appeared in both The Starry Plough and Fingerpost, McLaughlin strengthened this affirmation of good intent still further when he declared that any effort to force Irish unity upon Protestants would be ‘a ludicrous distraction’ and that ‘In 25 years of political activism, I have yet to hear any republican make such an assertion.’29 Thus, for the first time since the movement had dropped the Eire Nua policy (and its federalist ‘sop to Unionism’), republicans appeared to be making concession to the notion of a distinct Unionist political identity that could not simply be ignored. The Adams–McGuinness leadership seemed now to accept that, ‘Unionist agreement is not only desirable but vital if we are to have lasting peace and stability in Ireland.’30 Once more, however, the extent of the republican leadership’s revisionism should not be overstated; for alongside the placatory words described stood more conventional expressions of republican ideology. McLaughlin, for instance, also referred to Unionism as ‘an artificially created imperial bulwark’.31 Elsewhere, Gerry Adams described it as ‘narrow and divisive and sectarian and conservative’.32 With regards to the issue of ‘consent’, meanwhile, McLaughlin’s 1994 article balanced its palliatives on the subject with the traditional republican view that ‘Despite all the rhetoric about “consent”, the Unionist veto belongs, in reality, to the British government.’33 Against this background, the idea of deep-rooted ideological change seems unsustainable. Even as they professed to believe Unionist ‘consent’ to

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be important, the republican leadership still talked of an unacceptable and undemocratic ‘Unionist veto’ that had to be removed by the British government. What the ‘revisionism’ thesis fails to take into account, therefore, is the extent to which the republican leadership was effectively attempting to distinguish between Unionism and Unionists. It was to the latter, as a population group with a distinct identity, that the new conciliatory face of republicanism was turned. Unionism, though, was still seen as a creation of the British (to legitimate their presence in Ireland), which lacked any vitality of its own. Accordingly, for republicans, it remained for the British government to break the Unionist veto, by announcing its willingness to withdraw from Ireland. By so doing, it was imagined a process of ‘awakening’ would be generated, whereby Unionists would realize their essential ‘Irishness’ and then be prepared to come to an ‘accommodation’ with nationalists.34 The context for that accommodation, though, would be de facto Irish unity; and in this context, the ‘best’ Unionists would be those that had abandoned their Unionism. Thus, when republicans now talked of Unionist consent, they did so from an understanding of consent as only being necessary for those arrangements that would flow from British withdrawal. The purpose of this was to secure the ‘allegiance of Unionists’ for a settlement.35 Such Unionists, though, would have effectively left their Unionism ‘at the door’ and would, it was imagined, acquiesce in the negotiation of new institutions for a politically unified island. This was little more than a restatement of republican doctrine as it had always been. The only significant change was that republicans now appeared to be expressing that doctrine through the language of their opponents, taking on concepts such as consent and the need for reconciliation to articulate their case. What this truth, in turn, illustrates is the extent to which Unionism, in the republican mindset, remained something to be outmanoeuvred and, ultimately, defeated. Furthermore, the view still held that the best way to achieve this was through confrontation with the alleged colonial ‘sponsors’ of Unionism: the British. In this way, the persistence of a colonial analysis within the thinking of the republican leadership helps explain the tentative progress of republican ‘peace moves’ in the early 1990s. These moves were born not of preference, but of the slow and reluctant realization that there was little other option. The Adams–McGuinness leadership did not actively seek reassessment of the continued viability of the IRA campaign, but was forced into it by a mix of factors, both endogenous and exogenous to Ireland.

Ending the armed struggle Outside of Ireland, the transformation of both the British political sphere and the wider international political arena in this period, helped create an environment in which the IRA’s campaign could be contemplated afresh.

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With regards to the former, the upheavals that culminated in the removal of Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister were crucial in encouraging the Adams– McGuinness leadership to review its options. It is difficult to believe that republicans could ever have countenanced an end to the armed campaign for as long as the ‘Iron Lady’ remained in office. Thatcher’s intransigent stance during the hunger strikes, combined with her militant anti-IRA rhetoric and willingness to sanction the use of the SAS, had confirmed her as the bête-noir of modern republicanism. At the time of her departure, Adams described her role in Ireland as ‘singularly negative’, while Jim Gibney later commented that ‘She embittered us to a degree, which is quite difficult at times to lift yourself out of . . . she personalised it I think . . . she is despised by Republicans because of what she did to the prisoners in 1981.’36 It thus seems clear that the end of Thatcher’s premiership was an important precursor to the new fluidity that entered republican thinking thereafter. In addition, Thatcher’s departure encouraged signals from within the British government that there could be a new beginning in republican–British relations. These signals actually pre-dated Thatcher’s resignation and, as has been described, were first articulated publicly by Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Peter Brooke, in 1989.37 The following year, Brooke had supplemented his initial attempt to engage republicans by once again asserting British neutrality in the conflict, claiming that the government had ‘no selfish strategic or economic interests in Northern Ireland’.38 In so doing, he had appeared to hold out the opportunity for Sinn Féin to enter talks, provided that the IRA ended its campaign. That such inferences registered on the radar of republicans is undeniable. Adams, for instance, subsequently acknowledged ‘some positive aspects to these speeches’.39 In similar vein, Danny Morrison noted how they stirred debate because the language ‘bemused republicans and forced us to listen carefully’.40 Alongside this, it is now known that behind-the-scenes communications between the republican movement and the British government were under way by this point. As has been explained, Moloney has provided evidence that such contacts existed back into the mid-1980s.41 Yet, it would seem that they became far more active from 1990 onwards. Certainly, both sides later identified this as the moment when relations improved qualitatively.42 And over the subsequent three years a ‘line of communication’ was kept open between the two sides and used at length. Such contacts allowed the British to stress to republicans that they would be willing to smooth progress into talks – if the IRA ended its violent campaign. In this way, they were a source of encouragement to those republicans, particularly within the leadership, who were beginning to consider the circumstances in which the armed struggle might be set aside. Similarly encouraging for those within the republican leadership beginning to think in such a manner were changes in the wider global context. In this regard, Michael Cox has highlighted the probable impact of the end of the

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Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union.43 While the USSR had never been a supporter of the ‘Provisional’ republican movement (instead enjoying close links with the ‘Officials’), the revolutionary project that it championed had been a source of inspiration to republicans. The truth of this could be seen in the links of solidarity and support established in the early 1980s between Sinn Féin and groups such as the ANC, SWAPO, the PLO and the Sandinistas, many of whom were in contact with the Soviet Union. For this reason, it was only natural that the sudden collapse of the foremost patron of the global revolutionary cause would affect the republican worldview. As Danny Morrison records in his prison journal, the effect of events in Eastern Europe was to force him to ‘rethink’ his own politics and be ‘more pragmatic and realistic’.44 By the same token, the associated emergence of what Adrian Guelke has referred to as, ‘a zeitgeist of peace processes’ was also likely to have made an impression on republicans.45 As the Cold War came to an end, several conflicts across the world, which had previously been described as intractable, moved towards a peaceful conclusion. Of particular significance for republicans was the fact that this new trend encompassed groups to which they had earlier looked for support, notably the PLO and the ANC. Gerry Adams has acknowledged the impact that this had, stating: ‘Internationally . . . the climate was moving towards a new ethos of resolving conflict.’46 This ‘new ethos’ appeared to carry both ‘push’ and ‘pull’ implications for the republican leadership. On the one hand, the simple fact of other peace processes having taken place made it far harder for republicans to justify the continuing armed struggle of the IRA. In this way, they generated pressure on the republican movement, ‘pulling’ it towards a point where it could consider ending its own military campaign. At the same time, as the Adams–McGuinness leadership began to arrive at such conclusions itself, it found a ready-made source of legitimacy in such peace processes, to help justify difficult decisions. The paradigm of conflict resolution elsewhere in the world helped the leadership ‘push’ its supporters down the road, as it became increasingly convinced that this was an appropriate one for republicans. In this manner, the parallels that could be drawn from the contemporary global context served as useful alternatives to those that would be gleaned by adopting a more historical perspective. For set against the history of Irish republicanism, any move towards ending the military campaign could be portrayed as the leadership following a well-worn path, the ultimate destination of which, was the abandonment of the struggle altogether. It could be depicted in similar terms to the course taken by Michael Collins, Eamon De Valera, Sean MacBride and Cathal Goulding; a course that the ‘Provisional’ republican movement had previously denounced as being a ‘sell-out’ and a ‘betrayal’. By contrast, the global context of the early 1990s peace processes, and the attendant lionization of ‘peacemakers’ around the world, offered far more attractive comparisons for the republican leadership to draw upon.

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Nowhere was this truer than in the case of South Africa and the ANC’s move towards negotiation with the National Party government of F.W. De Klerk. Just as previously the IRA had looked to the ANC as being engaged in a ‘fraternal’ struggle, so the decision of the latter to opt for peace exerted pressure on republicans to do likewise. Indeed, the ‘South African example’ came to occupy a special place in the republican psyche, with Nelson Mandela, in particular, becoming established as a republican icon at this time. An Phoblacht/Republican News thus devoted front-page coverage to both news of Mandela’s release from prison and his subsequent visit to Ireland in 1990. On the latter occasion the headline read ‘Peacemaker’, and the article described how ‘for the umpteenth time in colonial history yesterday’s “terrorist” has become today’s statesperson’.47 Over the next few years the ANC comparison was pressed at great lengths in the party newspaper and by republican spokespeople. There were, An Phoblacht/Republican News declared, ‘many tragic parallels in the struggles for freedom of the Irish and the South African oppressed’.48 Alongside this, developments in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict were also followed closely by the republican leadership; again unsurprisingly, given the movement’s earlier solidarity with the PLO. Consequently, as the peace process developed in the Middle East, leading to the Oslo accords of 1993, republicans again derived important lessons that might be applied to their situation. In particular, as had been the case with Nelson Mandela, much attention was focused on the position of Yasser Arafat and his apparent journey from terrorist to statesman. As An Phoblacht/Republican News noted, ‘Repeating countless precedents throughout modern history and in all corners of the globe, the Israelis, the United States, the EC and the Western media have transformed their portrayal of Yasser Arafat from “terrorist godfather” to statesperson.’49 By this stage, this was precisely the transformation that the republican leadership envisaged for its own would-be statesmen, Martin McGuinness and Gerry Adams. Consequently, it was inevitable that Sinn Féin’s newspaper should argue as well that the lesson of events in the Middle East was that, ‘discussion and inclusiveness are the way forward in all conflicts’.50 As in South Africa, events in the Middle East served to encourage and validate, both internally and to the outside world, the new thinking that was emerging within the Adams–McGuinness leadership. Clearly, then, external factors played an important role in the republican leadership’s slow intellectual evolution towards a point where it could imagine ending the armed struggle. Recognition of this role, though, is not to over-state its significance. On the contrary, whereas events beyond Ireland’s shores created an ‘enabling environment’ for the decision to halt the IRA’s campaign, the direct roots of that decision were internal to the island and, indeed, the republican movement itself. Of particular consequence here was the deteriorating military context, in which the IRA was attempting to prosecute its war. Increasingly, the IRA found itself, at best,

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locked in a bloody stalemate; at worst, in a position that was declining in real terms. Recent revelations, such as those surrounding the exposure of ‘Stakeknife’ (Freddie Scappaticci), in 2003, and Denis Donaldson in 2005, have served to highlight the extent to which the British security services had successfully infiltrated the republican movement by the late 1980s. In both instances, the men exposed were ‘career agents’ who had been in place for the greater part of two decades.51 During the conflict, such high-level penetration provided for the removal of important IRA operators and the prevention of a growing number of operations. The account of Ian Phoenix’s life in RUC Special Branch provides firm evidence as to the effect this had. Therein, it is claimed that, by 1994, eight out of ten operations planned by the IRA’s Belfast brigade were being thwarted by the RUC.52 As a result, no British soldier died on duty at the hands of the IRA in Belfast after August 1992, while the last major commercial bombing in the city was in May 1993.53 It was clear, therefore, that in Northern Ireland’s capital – which had always been the key crucible for the conflict – the IRA was, in essence, being brought to a standstill. At the same time, the organization’s members were being subjected to newly lethal pressure by the British through the growing use of the SAS. Life as an IRA Volunteer became more dangerous than ever in this period; a point emphasized by a series of high-profile state killings. The most deadly of these saw the destruction of an entire eight-man Active Service Unit (ASU) from the IRA’s East Tyrone brigade (renowned for its militancy), in the village of Loughgall, in May 1987. This was followed by further significant strikes by the SAS, with the result that, between 1987 and 1992, twenty-one IRA Volunteers were shot dead in such fashion (sixteen of whom were from County Tyrone, prompting some to suggest that it was effectively ‘open season’ on the IRA in that area).54 Not only did these attacks serve to damage the IRA’s overall ‘war-making’ capacity (by eliminating high-calibre Volunteers), but it also undermined morale within the organization. Similar in effect, was the fact that republicans also faced a marked increase in the activity of the loyalist paramilitaries. This period saw Sinn Féin members John Davey, Thomas Casey, Padraig O’Seanachain, Thomas Donaghy, Bernard O’Hagan, Danny Cassidy, Sheena Campbell, Malachy Carey and Eddie Fullerton all die at the hands of either the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) or the Ulster Freedom Fighters (UFF).55 Such targeted killings were accompanied by a rise in the wider death toll being exacted by loyalist paramilitaries in this era. As a consequence, 1991 was the first year since 1974–5 during which the numbers of those dying at the hands of loyalists approached parity with those being killed by republicans. During 1992, the gap narrowed even further; by 1993 and 1994, for the first time during the ‘Troubles’, loyalist killings actually outnumbered those of republicans.56 Gruesome as these statistics are, they do support the belief held by leading loyalists, such as

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Johnny Adair, that they were, in this period, ‘taking the war to the IRA . . . [so that the] IRA were being rattled as never before’.57 The pressure that this increased loyalist capacity placed on republicans was more than merely physical. It also raised questions as to the whole direction and raison d’être of the IRA’s campaign. That this should have been so was a function of the fact that loyalist killings, as Mike Smith has described, constituted an effective challenge to one of the central pillars of ‘Provisional’ republican ideology and strategy: the IRA’s claim to be the ‘defender’ of the Catholic/nationalist population of Northern Ireland.58 This was a key foundation myth for an organization that believed itself, in the words of the Belfast graffiti artists, to have risen ‘out of the ashes of August ’69’.59 Yet, the reality was that there was little that the IRA could do to prevent random loyalist attacks, other than to retaliate in similarly random fashion against the Protestant population. This, though, ran directly counter to the nonsectarian ideal that was assumed to lie at the heart of republican doctrine; hence, the strategic dilemma.60 Worse still, the IRA’s efforts to resolve this dilemma, through the adoption of a policy of ‘targeted assassination’, proved utterly disastrous when, in an effort to kill the UFF leadership with a bomb on the Shankill Road in West Belfast, it instead killed nine ordinary Protestants in October 1993. The seemingly cyclical quality of republican–loyalist violence (with the Shankill bombing provoking retaliatory slaughter at the village of Greysteel) must undoubtedly have added to the reappraisal of where exactly the IRA’s campaign was going.61 After all, as far back as 1988, Gerry Adams had conceded that the British had been able to ‘reduce the violence to Irish people killing each other’.62 Such an observation appeared all the more prescient during the early years of the 1990s. With that being the case, it was only natural that the republican leadership began to reconsider the long-term sustainability of the IRA campaign. The combined effect of loyalist and security forces’ action in this period, therefore, was to dramatically curtail the military prospects of the IRA. The republican campaign of violence was being successfully ‘contained’. Republicans themselves were being left, in the words of one former army officer, ‘like rats in a barrel . . . desperate to get out, not knowing who to trust and with nowhere else to go, but to end the campaign’.63 Worse still for the Adams–McGuinness leadership, this was occurring at a time when the republican movement’s political project also appeared to have run into the sand. Sinn Féin’s already-failing ‘southern strategy’, for example, reached a new low in the Republic of Ireland’s local government elections in June 1991, when the party won a mere 0.7 per cent of the vote and just six out of 883 council seats.64 An internal party conference discussion paper offered a candid assessment as to the implications of such results: ‘Unless there is a major change Sinn Féin will not win a seat in Leinster House inside the next two General Elections . . . Twenty years into

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the struggle Sinn Féin finds itself in an isolated, marginalised position within the 26 Counties.’65 In Northern Ireland Sinn Féin’s prospects for the future scarcely looked more promising. In the British general election in April 1992, the party’s share of the vote slipped to 10 per cent and Gerry Adams lost the West Belfast seat he had held since 1983 to the SDLP’s Joe Hendron. The latter’s party recorded its best ever result, capturing some 23.5 per cent of the vote.66 Initially, Sinn Féin tried to put a brave face on the results, at least in public, but a more truthful assessment followed a few months later, in the internal republican magazine, The Starry Plough. Therein, Jim Gibney penned an article in which he admitted that Adams’ defeat represented ‘the loss of . . . the political jewel in our crown’ and this had ‘reinforced the sense that Sinn Féin’s political project was on hold’. Further, Gibney was frank in his acknowledgement that Sinn Féin’s vote in Northern Ireland had been ‘declining since 1983’.67 On top of this, it was clear that the weakening of Sinn Féin’s position in the north, coupled with the upsurge in SDLP support, raised fresh possibilities for a moderate Unionist–nationalist internal deal for Northern Ireland. Changes within unionist politics had also increased the likelihood of this eventuality being realized. In this regard, it is worth noting that, while such a deal had been theoretically available at any time since the signing of the Anglo-Irish Agreement in 1985, vehement Unionist opposition to that Agreement had previously stymied any potential accommodation. The appointment of Peter Brooke as Secretary of State in 1989, however, had inaugurated a thaw in relations between Unionism and the British government. By 1991, this thaw had advanced far enough to allow inter-party talks between the SDLP and the Unionist parties to take place.68 With Sinn Féin excluded, because of the ongoing IRA campaign, there were, therefore, renewed concerns within the republican movement that the SDLP would be able to negotiate a powersharing deal without having to look over its shoulder at its ‘greener’ rivals. Expression of these concerns could be seen in Sinn Féin’s response to, first the ‘Brooke’, and then the ‘Mayhew’, talks, which took place during 1991 and 1992. Throughout that process, even as the party disparaged the talks and derided the notion that they might be successful, the Adams–McGuinness leadership called for republicans to be included in them.69 That this was a genuine reflection of republican angst over a possible internal deal has been attested to by Danny Morrison. In his prison memoir he recorded his belief that the movement had shown itself to be ‘on edge’ and ‘unsure of [its] position’ by complaining too much about the talks.70 Looking back on the episode he has since confirmed that he felt ‘Sinn Féin was panicking’ at the prospect of a deal, which he felt was always unlikely.71 As it was, Morrison was correct in his analysis that no agreement would be forthcoming. Yet, what the republican reaction to the ‘Brooke–Mayhew talks’ exhibited (particularly when placed alongside disquiet over election results, north and south), was

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the general sense of anxiety in republican circles as to the ongoing viability of Sinn Féin’s political project.72 It was subsequent to these debates that there came, in the words of Sean O’Callaghan, a ‘gradual move to the realization that the war itself was the problem’.73 Hence, no less a figure than Richard McAuley, Gerry Adams’ personal aide-de-camp, was quoted in an article for Fortnight magazine in September 1992, as having admitted that Sinn Féin was, ‘not going to realise [its] full potential as long as the war is going on in the north and as long as Sinn Féin is presented the way it is with regard to armed struggle and violence’.74 Such a statement marked recognition of the fact that the ‘peace strategy’ had, up to that point, failed. It had proven insufficient to disassociate Sinn Féin from the excesses of an IRA campaign that, despite repeated calls from republican leaders, had not been ‘refined’ to the extent expected. Instead, the IRA continued to inhibit and damage Sinn Féin. In light of this, the logical progression that the republican leadership began to undertake was that outlined by Danny Morrison, in an article entitled ‘Bitter Pill’, which was written in jail in 1992. The IRA, he asserted, simply had to, ‘raise the quality of its campaign’. However, if it proved incapable of doing this, he called on it to ‘consider the alternative’. He then cited the example of the Sandinistas – the Nicaraguan liberation movement, with whom republicans had previously identified – who had recently lost an election, but decided to go into opposition, rather than return to armed struggle. What they had realised, Morrison declared, was that The pragmatism of the head had to take precedence over the principle of the heart. Some day we shall be faced with the same choice. We should never allow the situation to decline to the extent that we face such a decision from the depths of an unpopular, unseemly, impossible-to-end armed struggle or from the point of brave exhaustion – another one of the ‘glorious defeats’ with which our past is littered.’75 The implication was clear: the armed struggle itself was increasingly subject to re-examination. And in Morrison’s view, republicans needed to be prepared to ‘cash in’ their chips and end the violence while they could still reap political advantage. Sean O’Callaghan has testified that this was an analysis with which Gerry Adams had long agreed. O’Callaghan thus recalls that a frequent refrain of the Sinn Fein President was the importance of republicans achieving ‘something’ from the struggle: ‘the implication of what he was saying was that other republican campaigns had continued to the point of self destruction, irrespective of the prevailing political reality and he wasn’t prepared to allow that to happen again’.76 In spite of this, the leadership’s preference for caution when moving towards major shifts in policy was again clear. Morrison’s article was thus never carried by An Phoblacht/Republican News; in his own words, because, ‘the leadership felt it was too soon and that I still had a reputation and people

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would maybe mistakenly see it as a “flyer”’.77 Still, when faced with an armed struggle that appeared to be diminishing, while also acting as an impediment to Sinn Féin’s electoral growth, the republican leadership was arriving at the conclusion that the IRA’s conventional military campaign might have to be set aside. Herein lay the genesis of the republican ‘new realism’. As Sean O’Callaghan neatly explains, ‘Adams and McGuinness had looked down the road and seen slow defeat staring them in the face.’78 As a consequence, the central strategic objective of the republican leadership in this period became the ending of the IRA’s campaign in such a fashion as to allow the broader republican ‘struggle’ to move forward by other means. In the above words of Jim Gibney, the leadership’s aim was to, ‘map a way out of armed conflict’ in the best possible political circumstances.79 The search for that way out would lead, in 1994, to the emergence of the TUAS document, which as Henry Patterson has rightly noted, effectively laid out the thinking behind the IRA ceasefires.80 From the moment that its existence became known outside the republican movement, ambiguity surrounded the meaning of the TUAS document. Some, for instance, soon concluded that the acronym stood for, ‘Totally UnArmed Strategy’; an interpretation lent credibility by the fact that the first IRA ceasefire followed in its wake.81 Yet, what it actually meant, was something quite different: namely, the ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’.82 Central to this concept was the novel assertion (among republicans) that the armed struggle should itself be seen as a tactic and, as such, something that could (and even should) be laid aside if a better alternative emerged, or if conditions changed and it was felt that a cessation could better further the ‘strategic’ objectives of the republican movement.83 Foremost among these objectives, as laid out in the TUAS document, was to be the construction of ‘an Irish nationalist consensus with international support’. This pan-nationalist alliance was to involve Sinn Féin, the SDLP, Fianna Fáil (as the Dublin government) and also the Irish-American lobby in the US.84 The significance attached by the republican leadership to Irish America, and the possibility that its involvement might ‘internationalize’ any peace process, is something that has only recently been examined in detail.85 Following on from the effort to re-orientate Sinn Féin’s American support network in the direction of ‘mainstream’ political activity, there had also been a growing attempt by Irish republicans to engage with the newly emerging ‘corporate’ constituency within Irish America. The perception was that this constituency could lobby the US government for a change in its Irish policy, so as to make it less supportive of the British government. With Bill Clinton’s accession to the White House and his apparent willingness to embark on just such a course (as seemingly demonstrated by his granting of a visa waiver to Gerry Adams in February 1994 – allowing the Sinn Féin President to enter the US in defiance of British opposition), the belief was that this effort had born fruit. It is this that explains the reference in the TUAS document to the ‘very powerful’ Irish-American lobby and the description of Clinton as ‘the

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first US President in decades to be substantially influenced by such a lobby’.86 These were to be important components of the pan-nationalist alliance now envisaged. The aim of this alliance was to be the establishment of ‘a common nationalist negotiating position’ founded on ‘basic republican principles’, which, it was argued, would serve as an alternative to the armed campaign, taking forward the struggle on ‘another front’.87 That front was to be one of negotiations. The republican movement would no longer be ‘negotiating and fighting’, but ‘negotiating instead of fighting’. Here, then, were the two subsidiary objectives that dominated republican attempts to create an environment in which the armed struggle could be set to one side: the establishment of a new pan-nationalist alliance and the creation of a viable talks process, in which that pan-nationalist alliance would hold to a common negotiating position. Crucially, neither meant that the ultimate objective of the republican movement had changed. On the contrary, as the TUAS authors were at pains to emphasize, the movement remained intent on achieving ‘a united 32 County Democratic Socialist Republic’, albeit now by different means. As the final lines of the document declared, ‘the struggle is not over [emphasis in original]’.88

Pan-nationalism revisited From the period around 1991 onwards, the Adams–McGuinness leadership approached, with new vigour, the task of establishing some form of intranationalist agreement. Though Adams again made public appeals at this time for a ‘national and international consensus’ on Irish unity, the principal conduit for this effort was to be the good working relationship that the Sinn Féin President had established – behind the scenes – with John Hume.89 As has been mentioned, the two men had remained in contact ever since the Sinn Féin–SDLP talks of 1988. Prior to 1991, their exchanges had amounted to relatively little, but thereafter the quality of these improved significantly; notwithstanding the fact that the SDLP, as a party, was not fully aware of what was going on. The truth of this latter point has been verified by Jim Gibney, who affirms, ‘Hume ran the project on his own and kept the SDLP leadership in the dark.’90 In spite of this, a key assumption of the republican leadership now, as it had been in the 1980s, was that Hume could deliver not only his own party, but also the support of both the Dublin government and Irish America for any alliance. The probability of getting Dublin involved in a pan-nationalist venture had appeared to diminish with the resignation of Charles Haughey as Taoiseach in early 1992. In light of Haughey’s ostensible nationalist ‘credentials’ his removal from the political arena was seen as a potential setback for republicans. Nonetheless, his successor, Albert Reynolds, quickly assuaged fears in this regard through his desire to get involved and, according to Adams,

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this period saw the first private meetings between Sinn Féin and officials from the Irish government.91 With republicans also looking positively on Bill Clinton’s presidency in the US, the Adams–McGuinness leadership therefore increasingly believed that the formation of a three-way intra-nationalist consensus, backed by strong outside support from the US, was a real possibility. The domestic tripartite alliance envisaged, though, was to be different in character to that which the party had previously sought. For this reason, the new emphasis Sinn Féin placed on this endeavour represented not simply a ‘return’ to, but also a ‘reworking’ of party policy. This is not to say, it should be stressed, that the old rationale for the policy no longer applied. As Gerry Adams has since admitted, for example, a key incentive for Sinn Féin was the desire to end the party’s political isolation.92 The creation of a pan-nationalist alliance again seemed to offer a vehicle for achieving that goal by uniting the republican movement and its constitutional nationalist neighbours around a shared position. In addition, as previously, such an alliance also provided republicans with an opportunity to disrupt any efforts to achieve an internal deal for Northern Ireland that excluded them. As Tom Hartley has observed, it ‘disrupted the efforts of the British state to put in place their preferred alliance’.93 As the fate of the aforementioned Brooke–Mayhew talks of this era intimated, in this republicans appeared to enjoy some success. Towards the end of the 1991 session of talks, for instance, there were suggestions that Hume’s commitment to the process was not all it might have been.94 Such accusations were repeated with greater force in relation to the talks instigated by Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Patrick Mayhew, from April to November 1992. Indeed, the then British prime minister, John Major, has commented that the SDLP leader seemed to show little enthusiasm for reciprocating Unionist concessions during those latter negotiations, and as time went by ‘appeared to lose interest in the process’.95 Major himself put this down to the fact that, by that stage, Hume was firmly engaged with the republican movement; indication that the re-activation of talks aimed at creating a pan-nationalist understanding did serve, as republicans hoped they would, to retard prospects for an internal deal. Beyond this, however, the most important and novel function that the Adams–McGuinness leadership foresaw for the pan-nationalist alliance in this period was that it would form the core of the republican movement’s exit strategy from the armed struggle. Unlike previous efforts to achieve such an alliance during the 1980s, it was imagined as a replacement for, rather than a complement to, the military campaign. To this end, the republican leadership began to develop the argument that the armed struggle was itself, ‘an option of last resort’.96 This marked a subtle, yet significant, point of departure from the earlier republican argument that the military campaign was a ‘terrible but necessary form of resistance [emphasis added]’.97 The implication now was that armed struggle could be

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set aside if republicans were provided with alternative avenues. In the words of 1992’s Towards a Lasting Peace, the IRA’s ‘war’ was described as central, only because ‘there is no constitutional strategy to pursue independence’. The obvious corollary to this was that if such a constitutional strategy could be constructed, it might become possible for the IRA to end its campaign; hence the new claim that ‘the onus is on those who condemn the option of armed struggle to advance a credible alternative’.98 For the republican leadership now, it was the revised concept of the pannationalist alliance that was to act as this alternative, serving as a shared negotiating platform, by which ‘nationalist Ireland’ would at last confront the British government and the Unionists. Thus, the republican leadership stepped up the intensity of its dialogue with John Hume over 1992 and 1993. The result was that, by the autumn of the latter year, Adams had managed to agree joint positions with the SDLP leader on the nature of the conflict and how it might be ended; positions that were encapsulated in the so-called ‘Hume–Adams’ document of 1993. ‘Hume–Adams’ has been the subject of some controversy, not least because it was not published at the time its existence was announced. As Anthony McIntyre has recalled, this led to some confusion among republicans, as they were urged to mobilize and march in defence of the document, despite their being unsure of its content.99 In light of subsequent events, critics of the Adams–McGuinness leadership, such as McIntyre, took the secrecy surrounding ‘Hume–Adams’ to be an indication of the ideological compromises it contained. Moreover, even now that the document has been made available (by Eamonn Mallie and David McKittrick) such suspicions seem only to have been confirmed. At first glance, ‘Hume–Adams’ was a long way from offering a traditional republican analysis of the conflict. With its references to ‘consent’ and ‘self-determination’, and its emphasis on Ireland being defined by a ‘people’, as opposed to a ‘territory’, much of the language it used took republicans into unfamiliar conceptual surroundings.100 Such rhetoric notwithstanding, however, it is clear that the construction of ‘Hume–Adams’ left the standard republican arguments intact. The final ‘agreed document’ of June 1993 stated both that ‘the Irish people have the right collectively to self-determination’ and that Britain should do all it could to ‘win the consent of a majority in Northern Ireland’ for this. Further, the document called on this process to be accomplished within a time frame ‘to be agreed by both governments’.101 Thus, even as ‘Hume–Adams’ utilized a political vocabulary that was alien to republicans, this vocabulary was employed in such a way as to negate its original meaning. By ring-fencing the notion of ‘consent’ with conditions that required the British to achieve such consent within a specified time frame, it provided for the de facto denial of that consent. In addition, according to ‘Hume–Adams’, only the attainment of that consent (for Irish unity) was to be considered the realization of Irish ‘national self-determination’.

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In other words, what the document effectively said was that Unionists were to be allowed to choose, provided that they made the ‘right’ choice; an assertion that was entirely consistent with traditional republican ideology. As John Major himself has since commented, it was precisely this facet of ‘Hume– Adams’ that made it so unacceptable to the British government and made the production of an alternative (the Downing Street Declaration of December 1993) so essential.102 For this reason, it would seem RUC Superintendant Ian Phoenix was right when he noted (with concern) in his diary that such SDLP– Sinn Féin rapprochement as was occurring at this time, was taking place, almost entirely on Sinn Féin’s terms. To his mind, it was the latter party that was ‘more in control of the situation’, in a ‘coming [together] of minds’.103 In keeping with this, the picture that emerges from ‘Hume–Adams’ is once more one of republican ideological continuity, as opposed to revisionism. Despite this, the production of ‘Hume–Adams’ still represented a key departure for republicans. That this should have been so was a function not of what the document said, but rather of what it did. The process that led to ‘Hume–Adams’ – by its existence – marked the point at which some form of pan-nationalist alliance began to crystallize. The dialogue between Hume and Adams (which became public knowledge in April 1993, after Adams was seen entering the SDLP leader’s house in Derry), their joint declarations and the document that emerged, all provided a focus around which Irish nationalists, particularly those concerned to see an end to the ‘Troubles’, could rally. Consequently, ‘Hume–Adams’ was genuinely popular across nationalist Ireland. The truth of this could be seen, for instance, at the Fianna Fáil ard fheis in November 1993. Coming soon after the two governments had, in their joint Brussels communiqué, effectively ruled out acceptance of ‘Hume– Adams’, this gathering saw Fianna Fáil delegates excoriate their leader (and Taoiseach), Albert Reynolds, for not doing enough to support the initiative. Numerous motions were passed expressing support for ‘Hume–Adams’.104 What this episode made plain, was the extent to which the ‘Hume–Adams’ process held out the possibility that some sort of pan-nationalist alliance might be generated. If the actual production of the document could plausibly be portrayed as the coming together of northern nationalism, so the reaction to it appeared to suggest that southern Irish nationalism might also come ‘on board’. Nevertheless, even as the republican leadership could take satisfaction from such developments, it also had to face the fact that the Irish government itself had not been convinced. As Henry Patterson has underlined, throughout the ‘Hume–Adams’ process a major concern for republicans had been the prospect of the Dublin government detaching itself from any putative intra-nationalist agreement and instead pursuing an intergovernmental approach.105 In the event, this was precisely what appeared to happen following the Brussels communiqué, with the drive to produce the Downing Street Declaration by the British and Irish governments. The significance of

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this in the minds of the republican leadership can be gauged from the pivotal role they believed Dublin had to play in any pan-nationalist alliance. As Jim Gibney has put it, ‘Nationalist unity in the north needed to be followed by the unity of all-Ireland with the Irish government, [because] without the Irish government you can’t get independence.’106 In the context of such an attitude, the signing of the Downing Street Declaration by the Irish government appeared to be a major blow to republican aspirations. To a great extent, the Declaration did the reverse of ‘Hume–Adams’: whereas the latter utilized traditional Unionist vocabulary for nationalist/republican ends, the former, as one academic study has observed, ‘Superficially [conceded] the rhetoric of the Hume–Adams process . . . but, in essence, the process had been stripped of its content in a quite dramatic way.’107 Unquestionably, the Declaration ran counter to traditional republican ideology. As John Major emphatically described to the House of Commons, its emphasis was firmly on the principle of ‘Unionist consent’.108 For this reason, as Mallie and McKittrick have emphasized, the Downing Street Declaration constituted a major challenge to republicans. They were now faced with the reality of an Irish government (significantly, a Fianna Fáil-led Irish government) having agreed to a position that intertwined consent and national self-determination, but with the emphasis on the former. Worse still, from a republican perspective, it had done so to great popular acclaim.109 The truth of this was soon recognized within republican circles, as evinced by the overwhelmingly negative reaction therein to the Declaration. The movement’s prisoners, for example, sent a message to Sinn Féin’s February 1994 ard fheis in which they unreservedly attacked it as ‘flawed and not contributing to real and lasting peace’.110 Yet, in spite of such internal opposition to the Downing Street Declaration, the Adams–McGuinness leadership recognized that it could not simply reject the document outright. To have done so would have risked destroying both the image of republicans as people genuinely working for peace and any prospect of a broad nationalist alliance. This, in turn, would have raised the possibility that the governments might seek to ‘move on’ without the republican movement, leaving the latter as isolated as ever. As a result, the response of the Adams–McGuinness leadership was one that sought to manoeuvre around the Declaration and reclaim the initiative for the republican movement. Rather than rebuff the document out of hand, Sinn Féin spokespeople instead asked for ‘clarification’ of certain aspects of it and the party posed ‘20 questions’ that it claimed needed to be answered.111 The Declaration, the party alleged, contained ‘several ambiguities and seeming contradictions’ that needed to be addressed.112 The wait for clarification then allowed a republican decision on the document to be effectively postponed. When that decision finally did arrive (some six months later at a specially convened Sinn Féin conference in Letterkenny, County Donegal) and was, as anticipated, one of rejection, the intervening delay had worked to reduce

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the pressure on the republican movement.113 Such negative fallout as there was, was swiftly overtaken by the IRA’s announcement of a ceasefire just over a month afterwards. It has since been argued that by declaring its cessation when it did, the IRA was de facto accepting the Downing Street Declaration; for by ending the campaign at that point, it ensured that any subsequent talks would be based principally on the parameters laid out by the Declaration.114 In terms of the overall framework for the peace process that followed, such a reading has much to commend it. The ‘back-channel’ communications between republicans and the British Government over the preceding four years had revolved around the question of how talks would take place. In this ‘battle over preconditions’, the dispute of whether the IRA would have to permanently set aside violence had assumed central importance. The Downing Street Declaration represented the British government’s ‘bottom line’ for future political progress. It pledged the government to uphold the ‘consent principle’ on Northern Ireland’s future status and confirmed that those wishing to be involved in negotiations would have to commit themselves to ‘exclusively peaceful methods’.115 On this latter point, it seemed in August 1994 as if republicans had been forced to concede ground. Again, however, it is worth emphasising that the ceasefire decision came against a background in which there appeared to be few other options available to the Adams–McGuinness leadership – given the condition of the IRA’s armed struggle. It was not, therefore, an expression of republican acceptance of the Downing Street Declaration and the philosophy that underpinned it in principle. Instead, the republican leadership had simply realised that there was little alternative. In addition, Adams and McGuinness were quick to recognize the potential opportunities arising out of the Declaration. Crucially, for example, it guaranteed that the republican leadership need not elucidate the details of ‘Hume–Adams’. Instead, Sinn Féin could simply benefit from the process that that document had instigated – a process that had unquestionably been carried forward by the Downing Street Declaration. What republicans termed the ‘Irish Peace Initiative’ had created a groundswell of optimism within nationalist Ireland that the Northern Irish conflict might soon be brought to a conclusion.116 The perception that republicans were intimately involved in the effort to bring peace was clearly to the benefit of Sinn Féin. Hence, European and local elections in the Republic of Ireland in 1994 saw the party’s vote increase by a small, yet noticeable, extent.117 Such results offered an early indication of the increased popularity for republicans that could be generated by the fledgling peace process, something of which the Adams–McGuinness leadership was undoubtedly aware.118 At the same time, a corollary of this popularity was a surge in support for the kind of pan-nationalist approach that the republican leadership so desired. Again, this was something that had not gone unnoticed within the

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republican movement. Even as Sinn Féin rejected the Downing Street Declaration at its Letterkenny conference, for example, so it also noted that a ‘consensus between nationalists in the Six Counties, supported by the Dublin government [has] emerged’.119 What was required subsequently, it was claimed, was for republicans to ‘mobilise as wide a section of people as possible behind the demand for a democratic resolution of the conflict’.120 It was, therefore, on the basis of precisely this reasoning, that the IRA finally moved to declare a ‘complete cessation of military operations’ on 31 August 1994.121 The decision was almost universally welcomed across nationalist Ireland and there followed, in its wake, an outpouring of what might be termed ‘pan-nationalist unity’. This was the period of the three-way ‘historic handshake’ between Adams, Hume and Reynolds.122 It was the time when Sinn Féin could claim with apparent plausibility that the ‘the tide of history is with nationalists’.123 But the ceasefire did not mark principled acceptance of the Downing Street Declaration by republicans. Instead, it was an initiative based on the strength and potential of the pan-nationalist alliance that was expected to emerge in the absence of the IRA’s armed struggle. This alliance, the Adams–McGuinness leadership hoped, would allow for the subversion of the Declaration in the long term. As events would show, republicans had not accepted and imbibed the guiding spirit of the Declaration; rather they sought its negation by other means.

Negotiations With the IRA ceasefire believed to have created the possibility for an authentic pan-nationalist alliance, it was imperative for the Adams–McGuinness leadership that actual negotiations were initiated as quickly as possible after the cessation. This, as has been described, constituted the other pillar of the TUAS logic that underpinned the ceasefire: an end to the military campaign was meant to inaugurate a ‘dynamic’ process of meaningful negotiations involving the republican movement. Once in negotiations, it was imagined that the combined political strength and ‘common negotiation position’ of the pan-nationalist alliance could be brought to bear so as to deliver the best possible outcome for nationalists and republicans.124 Even so, in the first instance, the republican leadership perhaps realized that such talks were unlikely to begin in the very immediate term. It is this that may explain why much weight was attached to the other benefits that republicans could accrue in the meantime. As Moloney has demonstrated, to this end the Adams–McGuinness leadership had drawn up a fourteenpoint ‘shopping list’ of things that it wanted to see happen in the wake of the ceasefire. Included therein was the demand for the trilateral Reynolds, Hume and Adams meeting to cement perceptions of a pan-nationalist alliance (which led to the aforementioned handshake). Among other actions called

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for were: an end to measures ‘aimed at the isolation and marginalisation of Sinn Féin’; regular contacts between the Irish government and Sinn Féin; Sinn Féin’s involvement in a Forum for Peace and Reconciliation; and the granting of permission for Sinn Féin members to visit the US.125 Such measures were important, both as goals in their own right and because they allowed the republican leadership to show its supporters, in the words of Jim Gibney, ‘the benefits of the peace process’.126 Nevertheless, to a significant extent, concessions of this nature were simply the ‘window-dressing’ of the peace process. What mattered far more to the Adams–McGuinness leadership was the opening of substantive negotiations. As a result, An Phoblacht/Republican News called for ‘immediate inclusive dialogue’, urged the British government to ‘seize the moment for peace’ and warned that the ‘process could flounder if Major doesn’t move’.127 Appeals of this nature subsequently became the mantra of the republican leadership. In the course of his 1995 Bodenstown Oration, for example, Martin McGuinness managed to make no less than fourteen references to the importance of negotiations being opened, with emphasis very much placed on the notion that they be ‘inclusive’, or ‘all-party’.128 The aim of such demands for inclusiveness, of course, was that republicans be allowed to participate in talks. It is less clear that they had embraced this notion as a universal principle. Indeed, some have suggested that the republican commitment to inclusiveness did not run as far as Unionist representatives.129 Others have suggested that republican violence actively sought to prevent Unionists from entering talks.130 How much truth there is in this cannot be verifiably confirmed, but it can be noted that Sinn Féin’s reaction to the expulsion of the Ulster Democratic Party (UDP) from the talks in early 1998, because of continued UFF violence, scarcely reached the level of even mild indignation.131 As such, it was indicative of the fact that the presence of Unionism in dialogue was of secondary importance to republicans. Instead, the key for the Adams–McGuinness leadership was the instigation of negotiations involving republicans on the one hand and the British government on the other. Such negotiations were then to be used, the republican leadership imagined, to drive the British government away from Unionism and towards an ‘all-Ireland’ approach. In this way, it was envisaged, republicans could manoeuvre around the Downing Street Declaration and undermine its emphasis on Unionist consent. In this context, it was no surprise that the events of early 1995 marked the zenith for republican hopes and expectations in the early years of the peace process. Even though substantive negotiations had not begun at that point, the ‘Frameworks’ documents that were put forward by the British and Irish governments in February of that year were seen as a positive development by republicans and warmly welcomed as such by Gerry Adams.132 Offering an outline for the terms of a political settlement, ‘Frameworks’ was potentially very ‘green’ in character. While resting on a de jure acceptance

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of the ‘consent principle’ and the creation of a Northern Irish Assembly (and thereby embodying in strict republican terms, a partitionist approach), ‘Frameworks’ also envisaged extensive cross-border bodies. These were to be potentially ‘free-standing’ and imbued with considerable power; so much so, that the Irish Foreign Minister, when later asked to expand on what was being proposed, said that he envisaged them having powers ‘not unlike a government’.133 They therefore appeared to hold out the prospect of the de facto abrogation of the consent principle in practice – at least, that was how republicans preferred to see them.134 And on this reasoning the Adams– McGuinness leadership viewed the ‘Frameworks’ documents as a highly encouraging precursor to further negotiations and an important vindication of the TUAS strategy. The leadership’s aim, thereafter, was to enter negotiations on the basis of Frameworks and maximize, or expand, those provisions wherever possible. In the event, though, this was to prove a false hope and within a year of ‘Frameworks’, the Adams–McGuinness leadership faced the breakdown of its TUAS strategy. The central reason for that breakdown, which saw the IRA resume its regular armed struggle with the Canary Wharf bomb of February 1996, was the continuing absence of genuine negotiations. For all the optical benefits that Sinn Féin had amassed from the peace process (whether in the form of American visas, or an end to Section 31), these were ultimately, of lesser importance than the commencement of talks. The opening of talks, though, had been thwarted by continued anxiety, within both the Unionist community and the British government, as to the bona fides of the IRA ceasefire. In this way, the ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’ was effectively hoisted by its own petard. The emphasis it had placed on the conditionality of the cessation helped to fuel British and Unionist concerns that the IRA had not abandoned violence for good. It was the desire for reassurance on this front that led to initial British demands for the word ‘permanent’ to be added to the IRA’s ceasefire declaration.135 When this did not prove forthcoming, the prospect that some weapons might be decommissioned was raised as an alternative means for establishing republican good faith. It was this issue, though, that proved to be terminal to the TUAS strategy in the 1995–6 period. From the beginning, the Adams–McGuinness leadership was adamant that the decommissioning of IRA weaponry was simply not an option. As Kirsten Schulze and Mike Smith have noted, such attitudes stemmed, in large part, from the historical and ideological heritage of the republican movement.136 For one thing, decommissioning was unprecedented in republican history. While physical force campaigns had met failure before, on those occasions the movement had ‘dumped’ its arms, storing them away for a future time when they might ‘complete the revolution’. Such had been the course of action followed in the wake of the Irish civil war of 1922–3 and again after the ill-fated ‘Border campaign’ of 1956–62. Alongside this, the theology of the

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movement decreed that the IRA, as the only legitimate armed organization in Ireland, which existed to defend the de jure Republic of 1916 (which had been subverted by partition), could not dispose of its weaponry until the ‘true’ Republic was secure. To do otherwise was seen as perhaps conferring retrospective illegitimacy upon physical force republicanism. The impact of this ideological framework was magnified, both by the circumstances in which the ‘Provisional’ IRA came into being and those under which it had declared its cessation. With respect to the former, the creation of the ‘Provisionals’ amid the civil rights-related violence of the late 1960s made the idea of handing in weaponry problematic. The IRA’s perception of itself as the defender of northern nationalists was difficult to reconcile with the notion that it might become an unarmed organization. Of greater immediate significance, meanwhile, were the arguments deployed by Sinn Féin in the wake of the cessation of 1994. As Gerry Adams declared, during the ‘impromptu’ celebrations, which greeted the ceasefire announcement, this was to be viewed as the action of an ‘undefeated’ army that had taken a ‘historic and bold and decisive initiative’ from a position of strength.137 The idea that this ‘army’ could contemplate the ‘surrender’ of its weaponry, therefore, seemed preposterous from the republican viewpoint. Moreover, even if the Adams–McGuinness leadership had been of a mind to do this (and there is scant evidence that this was then the case), there was little prospect that it could have convinced rank-and-file republicans to endorse such a move at that time. Consequently, the anti-decommissioning rhetoric was resolutely maintained and even intensified, by republicans as the political process began to run into difficulties.138 The position of the Adams–McGuinness leadership on this issue was accurately summed up by the terse phrase that appeared on gable walls in republican areas: ‘not a bullet, not an ounce’.139 It was this, in turn, that ensured that the British/Unionist insistence on a handover of weapons prior to talks became, in the words of Martin McGuinness, an, ‘absolute obstacle to political development’.140 The unfolding of the decommissioning saga during 1995 effectively killed off any hope that negotiations would soon begin, as desired by the republican leadership. At the same time, the leadership was also faced with the disappearance of the ‘favourable’ conditions identified by the TUAS authors at the time of the ceasefire; chiefly, through the disintegration of the pan-nationalist alliance, in which so much faith had been placed. As early as November 1994, this had begun to occur with the collapse of Albert Reynolds’ coalition government in the south. Not only had the Fianna Fáil-led government been seen as a vital component of the TUAS alternative, but also the Taoiseach himself had appeared to be a firm supporter of some form of pan-nationalist alliance. Accordingly, his removal marked an obvious setback for the Adams– McGuinness leadership. What made matters worse, though, was the fact that the new Fine Gael Taoiseach, John Bruton, subsequently endorsed the British

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stance on decommissioning.141 Adams thus attacked this as ‘contrary to the spirit of conflict resolution’ and raised questions about ‘Bruton’s stewardship of the process’.142 More broadly, Sinn Féin’s antipathy to the Fine Gael leader was made manifest through its description of him as ‘more Unionist than (some) Unionists’.143 By late 1995, therefore, the atmosphere surrounding the peace process appeared increasingly to have turned sour for the republican movement. The pan-nationalist alliance, which was meant to serve as the alternative to the armed campaign, lay in ruins. More significantly, the decommissioning issue appeared to have left the political process immovably deadlocked. Against such a backdrop, the Adams–McGuinness leadership felt it had little choice but to abandon the TUAS strategy. Not only had it failed to deliver the expected dividends, but also, doing otherwise would have risked a major internal split, or the overthrow of the leadership. The result was the bombing of Canary Wharf in London in February 1996, which marked the IRA’s return to armed struggle.

Conclusion That the republican movement had retained the capacity to resume its ‘war’ had been made plain throughout the ceasefire. From the beginning, that cessation had been defined as a halt to ‘military operations’, by which the IRA meant attacks on the forces of the RUC and the British Army.144 In contrast to what the optimists in the media believed, however, this was not to be a ‘Totally UnArmed’, or even non-violent, peace. The truth of this had been made evident within months of the ceasefire announcement, when the IRA shot dead a postal worker, Frank Kerr, during an attempted robbery in Newry. While this operation was disowned by the organization’s leadership, it was entirely consonant with both the terms of the cessation and the postcessation role envisioned for the IRA.145 It was significant, for instance, that the murder occurred in the context of a bungled robbery – an indication that the IRA would increasingly come to serve as republican fund-raiser, providing resources for the Sinn Féin political machine.146 At the same time, it was clear that the cessation had not precluded the IRA acting as an instrument of social control in republican areas. The fact that the numbers of punishment beatings actually rose in the aftermath of the ceasefire stood as stark testament to this reality. Indeed, in the two years after the 1994 cessation, the total number of such attacks by the IRA reached record levels.147 Moreover, on several occasions exercise of that social control had entailed murder, with at least eleven drug dealers killed by the IRA in the years after the ceasefire (albeit under the pseudonym, ‘Direct Action Against Drugs’ [DAAD]).148 Hence, while the IRA might have maintained a lower profile during the ceasefire, it certainly did not disappear; a truth inadvertently acknowledged by Gerry Adams in his oft-repeated ‘they haven’t

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gone away, you know’ remark.149 The TUAS strategy had, from the time of its adoption, been about redefining the IRA and the balance of power within the republican movement. It had never been about bringing an end to the IRA. On top of this, the TUAS approach had rested, fundamentally, on conditionality. As the document outlining the strategy had acknowledged, the decision to end the IRA’s campaign had amounted to a ‘risky strategy’ and one that was contingent on a set of ‘combined circumstances’ that were ‘unlikely to gel again in the foreseeable future’.150 Such circumstances were said to include: the stature and influence of John Hume; the position of Albert Reynolds’ Fianna Fáil–Labour coalition government in Dublin, which enjoyed the biggest parliamentary majority in the history of the southern state; and the presence of Bill Clinton in the White House.151 The coalescence of these otherwise disparate factors had helped persuade the Adams–McGuinness leadership that the time was right to consider an end to the armed struggle and attempt to ‘do business’ with the British. Yet, from the start, this left open the question of what would happen if circumstances changed. Consequently, when the conditions upon which the TUAS approach had been premised crumbled, or failed to materialize, the Adams–McGuinness leadership turned back to violence. Furthermore, the leadership did so, not only to ensure the internal unity of the republican movement, but also because it believed that a short resumption of the war served the wider strategic purposes of the movement. With regards to the latter, the ending of the cessation underlined to the British government the fact that a ceasefire had to produce negotiations. In this, there were signs that the message got through; for the return to armed struggle was swiftly followed by the announcement of a date for talks to begin. While Sinn Féin was to be excluded from those talks (because of the renewed IRA campaign), the impression garnered was, as Dean Godson has noted, that republicans had ‘put manners’ on the British and forced them to move the process along.152 In this fashion, the return to violence did prove useful for the republican leadership and served as a dramatic restatement of their bottom line. Despite this, however, the Adams–McGuinness leadership clearly recognized that any resumption of the campaign could only be temporary in nature. For this reason, senior republicans still spoke of their desire to ‘restore’ the peace process and argued that a peace strategy was ‘the right strategy’.153 In this way, the Adams–McGuinness leadership gave signal that it had not turned its back on the peace process and offered hints that the door to a new cessation had been left ajar. That this should have been so was a function of the fact that the republican leadership’s assessment of the broader conditions they faced and their chances of success had not changed. For this reason, the 1996–7 campaign is perhaps best understood as a ‘war over preconditions’. The government of John Major, in an effort to resolve the decommissioning impasse, had embraced the suggestion for an alternative path into talks,

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as put forward by US Senator George Mitchell (who had been asked to find a solution).154 This was to involve an arrangement by which those seeking to participate in negotiations would have to commit themselves to certain principles relating to non-violence and the use of ‘democratic and exclusively peaceful means’.155 Despite this apparent side-lining of the decommissioning issue in January 1996, though, the IRA had still returned to armed struggle. It did so because of the fundamental ideological challenge posed to physical force republicanism by Mitchell’s principles. In this way, the Adams– McGuinness leadership – by opting for violence within weeks of Mitchell’s report – effectively made one final attempt to determine the ‘terms of trade’ in the peace process. The eighteen month campaign that followed was an effort to alter the conditions in which talks would be held – rather than an abandonment by republicans of the notion that the peace process was their best strategic option. And republican failure on even this, limited front, was reflected in the fact that the British government did not depart from the Mitchell Principles’ template for future negotiations. Against this background, the hand of the Adams–McGuinness leadership was forced by the objective realities of the IRA’s declining position. In 1996, the IRA was returning to the military stalemate from which it had previously extricated itself; if anything, its prospects had been worsened by the hiatus. The truth of this was observable in the difficulties that the organization now faced, with its armed struggle increasingly reduced, in the words of one RUC officer, to a ‘pathetic, grubby little war’.156 Not only did this new campaign struggle to gain momentum, but also, as had happened previously, the IRA again proved that its operations could be extremely damaging to Sinn Féin. The clearest example of this came in June 1996, when another bungled robbery saw IRA Volunteers shoot dead a Garda, Jerry McCabe, in Adare, County Limerick. Having initially denied any involvement in the episode, the IRA was later forced to admit that its men were responsible for the murder and, as a wave of condemnation spread across the Republic of Ireland, Gerry Adams felt compelled to repudiate the killings as ‘absolutely wrong’.157 Less than a month later, meanwhile, the Sinn Féin President made a similar act of contrition following the bombing of Manchester city centre by the IRA.158 What operations of this sort underlined was the extent to which the republican movement could no longer ride simultaneously the two horses of a failing, full-scale armed struggle and political development. The essentially unaltered context and long-term viability of the IRA’s campaign meant that the Adams–McGuinness leadership had little choice but to seek a return to the TUAS strategy as soon as the right ‘enabling’ conditions emerged once more. By July 1997, the environment had been created whereby TUAS had again become an option for the republican leadership. General elections in both the Republic of Ireland and the UK had profoundly changed the political climate in the republican movement’s favour. May 1997 had brought the victory of Tony Blair’s ‘New Labour’ Party, which had already given indication that

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Sinn Féin could be brought rapidly into talks, provided that it fulfilled the existing preconditions. As Blair himself had written in an article for the Irish Times just prior to the election, this meant the calling of a ‘genuine ceasefire’ and Sinn Féin’s signing up to the Mitchell Principles.159 It was also made clear privately that if these requirements were met, republican entry into negotiations would occur within weeks, rather than months.160 A month later, meanwhile, Bertie Ahern led Fianna Fáil back into government in the south, raising the possibility that a substantial, cross-border, pan-nationalist alliance could once more be constructed. With negotiations apparently available, in which Sinn Féin could credibly claim to be part of a pan-nationalist alliance, it was only natural that the republican leadership should have sought to embrace the TUAS strategy afresh. The fact that Adams and McGuinness had by this stage, as Ed Moloney has detailed, effectively outmanoeuvred and sidelined internal opposition to a new ceasefire guaranteed that this would be so.161 On 20 July 1997, therefore, the IRA announced the ‘unequivocal restoration’ of its ceasefire.162 As previously, the purpose of the renewed TUAS strategy was not to achieve the destruction of the IRA. Ideologically, at that time, such a development remained out of the question for as long as what republicans called the ‘root causes of the conflict’ were unresolved.163 In republican terms, this, of course, meant the continued existence of partition. As a result, the notion that the IRA might disappear altogether was simply not on the agenda. Rather, the leadership again envisaged TUAS as ‘mapping a way out’ of the military conflict, in such a way as to advance the republican cause. As Jim Gibney states, ‘the war effort by that stage had been banked and what you were dealing with then was republicans drawing off that effort and going down the road of peace’.164 Through this process, the leadership looked to a redefinition of the role of the IRA and its place within the wider republican movement. Reversing the traditional roles of the two organizations, it would fall to the IRA to support Sinn Féin, with the latter serving as the principal expression of mainstream republicanism, utilizing the twin vehicles of pan-nationalism and negotiation. In this way, the Adams–McGuinness leadership now embraced negotiations, which Adams once tellingly labelled ‘war by another means’.165 Although, on the occasion that he used the phrase, the Sinn Féin President had applied it to the British government’s attitude, in truth, the expression more aptly captures the essence of the republican leadership’s approach. Negotiations were to be the arena by which republicans would seek to advance their cause. Inverting the maxim of the nineteenth century Prussian military theorist Carl von Clausewitz, politics were now to be seen as war by other means.166 The ‘long war’ had become the ‘long negotiation’, but the ultimate ideological objective of the republican movement remained the same.

4 Confronting Unionism, Negotiation and Agreement, 1997–2001

‘Sinn Féin strategy is wedded to the Good Friday Agreement . . . There is huge goodwill for the peace process and particularly for Sinn Féin’s stewardship of it.’ Gerry Adams1

Introduction The ‘restoration’ of the IRA ceasefire in July 1997 was predicated on an understanding that Sinn Féin would quickly be invited into peace talks. Once there, the Adams–McGuinness leadership imagined that the party would stand alongside the other forces of Irish nationalism (specifically, the SDLP and Fianna Fáil) to confront the British and their Unionist allies. Such was the alternative designed by the republican leadership to an IRA campaign that was demonstrably failing. It would be a mistake, however, to believe that, even in July 1997, Adams and McGuinness had completely ruled out a return to armed struggle. On the contrary, it was really only in the wake of the ‘Real’ IRA’s disastrous bombing of the town of Omagh in 1998 that any resumption of the IRA’s campaign became inconceivable in their minds; a point then further underlined by the al-Qaeda attacks on America (and the fallout from them), of 11 September 2001. The effect of the latter, in the words of Gerry MacLochlainn, a former member of Sinn Féin’s International Department, was such as to ‘make it almost impossible for groups to consider a particular form of struggle that would have been acceptable a few years ago’.2 Yet, prior to those events, it seems likely that the republican leadership felt that some sort of renewed campaign might have been possible in the event of further political failure. After all, therein lay the essence of the ‘tactical use of armed struggle’ strategy upon which the ceasefire was based: that the war could be switched on or off, according to the needs of the movement. It is, therefore, unsurprising that as late as November 1997 a senior republican, Francie Molloy, was recorded telling a group of republicans that, should talks break down, republicans would go back to ‘what we know best’.3 102

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103

That notwithstanding, the role envisaged for the IRA by the republican leadership in the wake of the 1997 cessation was very much a secondary one. And it was to be closely tied to both the peace negotiations and the wider political fortunes of Sinn Féin. In this context, as shall be seen, its fighting capability became something that could be traded with Unionists, or the British government, in order to win concessions. On top of this, the Adams–McGuinness leadership came to discover that the very existence of a lower-profile, yet still active, IRA could be used to destabilize Unionism to the benefit of Sinn Féin. Either way, it was now the IRA that was to expedite what Gerry Adams referred to as ‘the Sinn Féin project’, not vice-versa.4 As to the precise nature of Sinn Féin’s objectives in this period, these proved to be multifaceted and interlocking in nature. On the one hand, the party sought political growth on both sides of the Irish border. Its prospects in this regard appeared brighter than at any time since the early 1980s. In Northern Ireland, the 1996 Forum elections had seen the party’s share of the vote increase for the first time in more than a decade; this, despite their occurring at the time of the resumed IRA campaign. Similarly, at the 1997 British general election, Sinn Féin’s vote rose, this time to over 16 per cent, and the party succeeded in having two MPs elected: Gerry Adams, regaining his seat in West Belfast, and Martin McGuinness, displacing the DUP’s Willie McCrea in Mid-Ulster.5 Both sets of elections therefore seemed to indicate that a rising proportion of the northern nationalist electorate had accepted Sinn Féin’s claim that it was working for peace and rewarded the party at the polls. The same was also true in relation to the electorate in the Republic of Ireland. There, Sinn Féin consolidated the advances it had made in the 1994 European election at the 1997 Irish general election (again, during the period of revived armed struggle). In the latter contest, the party almost doubled its vote share in comparison with the previous such election in 1992. While this still only gave it some 2.5 per cent of the national vote, in certain areas it polled particularly strongly.6 Consequently, the party succeeded in having its first TD (MP) elected in the modern era in Cavan-Monaghan, where Caoimghin Ó Caoláin topped the poll with 19 per cent of the vote.7 Sinn Féin narrowly missed out on additional seats: notably, Martin Ferris (who received almost 16 per cent of the vote) in Kerry North; Sean Crowe in Dublin SouthWest; and Pat Doherty in Donegal North-East.8 Furthermore, even though its national vote share remained modest, Sinn Féin did have the satisfaction of at last overtaking its bitter rivals in both the Workers’ Party and Democratic Left (the successor entities to the ‘Official’ republican movement).9 This (relative) success represented a vindication of the republican leadership’s ‘peace strategy’. Republicans were being viewed as honest ‘partners for peace’ and, on this basis, a growing section of the electorate was prepared to vote Sinn Féin. The chances were that such rewards would only but increase in the wake of the ceasefire’s restoration. Moreover, with the election of its first TD to Leinster House, Sinn Féin could plausibly hope to use this as a

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beachhead into mainstream Irish politics, from which to secure future gains. Unsurprisingly, therefore, the effort to build the political strength of the party continued to be uppermost amid the immediate strategic objectives of the Adams–McGuinness leadership. The effort to increase Sinn Féin’s level of support, however, was not the sole focus for the party at this time. Alongside it the republican leadership faced the prospect of entering into the negotiations that it had long sought. These began on 9 September 1997, following Sinn Féin’s pledge of support for the Mitchell Principles (a move, which served as the direct cause of the division in republican ranks that saw the creation of the ‘Real’ IRA/32 County Sovereignty Movement splinter group that rejected the peace process).10 In negotiations, as the TUAS document had described, the aim of the Adams–McGuinness leadership was to maintain pan-nationalist unity around a ‘common nationalist negotiating position’.11 Their hope was that the foundation of this position could be an agreement on the ‘case for selfdetermination, for justice and freedom’.12 Obviously, though, the republican leadership had to accept that the negotiations that had been called were unlikely to produce a settlement that satisfied a republican understanding of what these concepts entailed – at least in the immediate term. It was clear from the beginning that the parameters for the talks left little room for a ‘republican’ outcome. Adams later acknowledged as much, stating that those parameters ensured that ‘Irish unity would not come out of this phase of the negotiations’.13 The talks were to proceed along the lines set out by first the Brooke–Mayhew talks and then the Downing Street Declaration. They were, thus, to operate along three distinct strands, looking respectively at: the internal governance of Northern Ireland; north–south issues; and broader east–west matters.14 The underlying premise, meanwhile, was that of the ‘consent principle’, against which republicans had previously fought. This principle, as has been noted, had also lain at the heart of the ‘Frameworks’ documents that had been welcomed by the republican leadership in 1995. Yet, whereas the latter had at least provided for extensive north–south cooperation and republicans had hoped to expand on this, it soon became obvious that the 1997–8 talks were moving away from, not towards, the ‘Frameworks’ proposals. The truth of this was made manifest in the ‘Heads of Agreement’ document of January 1998, which decisively discarded many of the ‘Frameworks’ structures and appeared to prioritize the Northern Irish and British Isles (east– west) dimensions of the evolving deal, as opposed to any new north–south relationship.15 Unsurprisingly, this document was greeted unenthusiastically by republicans, with the IRA rejecting it outright and An Phoblacht/Republican News declaring it to be a new, ‘sop to unionists’.16 Yet even then, the proposal was considered too ‘green’ by the Ulster Unionist Party leader, David Trimble, and work went into reducing the cross-border character of the potential deal still further.

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Against this background, it would seem only natural to question what it was that the Adams–McGuinness leadership hoped to achieve by negotiations. The answer to this, though, appears to have been complex. On the one hand, the republican leadership obviously wished to advance the republican cause, in terms of the constitutional question, to the greatest possible degree. In July 1993, Gerry Adams had indicated that republicans would accept ‘joint authority’ at this stage, as ‘part of the process towards the end of partition’.17 The Sinn Féin leader later refined this further in March 1998 in an article for Ireland on Sunday. Therein, he had set Sinn Féin’s constitutional objective as being the attainment of powerful cross-border bodies with the ability to operate independently of any Northern Ireland assembly – what might be termed the institutions of de facto joint authority.18 Tied to this, it is clear that the republican leadership also sought to win concessions for its own movement on key issues, such as that of securing prisoner releases. Simply put, these twin motives might be taken as a sign of the republican leadership’s desire to deliver something tangible in the here-and-now; a reflection of Danny Morrison’s professed belief that when the time came to negotiate, republicans had to be able to ‘show something substantial for the sacrifices’.19 Alongside this, the objectives of the Adams–McGuinness leadership in entering the negotiating process were longer term, more ambitious in nature and intimately bound up with its perceptions of both the pan-nationalist alliance and Unionism. With regards to the latter, the leadership still sought to destabilize and eventually overcome its Unionist adversary. The republican peace strategy was not based on ideological revisionism in this key area. On the contrary, as An Phoblacht/Republican News stated in the wake of the first IRA ceasefire, the leadership’s view was that one of the great benefits of the move had been the ‘shockwave effect of the cessation [that] scattered unionists in all directions’.20 Soon after, the paper could be found trumpeting the confusion and divisions that were now said to exist within Unionism.21 Viewed from the republican perspective, as shall be seen, such division appeared to present republicans with the opportunity to isolate Unionism politically, both within Ireland and, perhaps more importantly, in relation to Britain. In so doing, it became possible to conceive of a scenario in which a politically isolated Unionism could be separated from its perceived British ‘sponsor’. The assumption flowing from this was that such separation, if achieved, would represent a terminal defeat for Unionism as a viable political project. That this should have been so was a function of the enduring republican interpretation of Unionism as an essentially empty ideology. For all the talk of a new and more nuanced stance on the part of republicans, their view of Unionism remained that articulated by the then chairperson of Sinn Féin, Mitchel McLaughlin, in 1998.22 In an article that year, he claimed that it was entirely the product of partition and, therefore, implicitly, an illegal and artificial entity. It was seen as having no validity of its own. Instead, Unionism

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was described as being ‘one-dimensional’, based solely on the Union itself and, as a result, it was imagined that once the Union was removed, most Unionists would come to ‘realize’ their essential ‘Irishness’.23 What McLaughlin’s piece thus demonstrated was the extent to which there continued to be remarkably little engagement with Unionism as a coherent political creed in its own right on the part of the republican leadership. On this issue, their thinking remained essentially unchanged from that articulated by Gerry Adams in 1986, or Mitchel McLaughlin in the early 1990s.24 Such changes as had occurred existed only in the realm of style, not substance. As previously, while the republican leadership now talked of the importance of ‘outreach’ to, or reconciliation with, Unionists (as a community), it continued to perceive Unionism – as an ideology – as something to be defeated and destroyed.25 The Adams–McGuinness leadership still sought to break the Unionist veto, albeit now through a mixture of political growth and negotiation, as opposed to armed struggle. The pan-nationalist alliance was to play a central role in this, as it was imagined as the vehicle by which the key defeat would be inflicted upon Unionism. By constituting a growing popular force, the expectation was that pan-nationalism would be capable of exerting sufficient pressure on the British to force them to end their support for their Unionist ‘surrogates’. With that goal achieved, it was thought that the pannationalist alliance could, as Adams had described in the 1980s, also serve as a coherent political bloc that would face down any remaining Unionist rejectionists and deliver Irish unity. Flowing from this ideological fountainhead, the strategic objectives of Sinn Féin ran together and complemented each other in this period. Through its embrace and use of the peace process, the party was able to generate a ‘virtuous circle’ in support of its activity. For example, as the Adams–McGuinness leadership would soon discover, the effort to strengthen the pan-nationalist alliance fed into the effort to build the party’s own strength. After all, in the context of negotiations it was obviously to Sinn Féin’s benefit to promote the greatest possible consensus on ‘green’ (republican) positions among Irish nationalists. In so doing, though, it also improved its broader political outlook; for by persuading parties such as Fianna Fáil and the SDLP to endorse a ‘greener’ agenda, Sinn Féin helped create a climate that was more conducive to its own expansion. An increase in republican-sounding rhetoric from the party’s constitutional rivals could only but further legitimize the agenda of Sinn Féin itself. In turn, a Sinn Féin that was growing in strength and confidence was increasingly better positioned to push forward a more republican agenda in the first place. At the same time, the expansion of Sinn Féin merely fuelled the discomfiture of the Unionist community with the peace process; discomfiture, which worked very much to the party’s advantage. On top of this, the reality of Sinn Féin’s involvement in the negotiating process was a major contributing factor to the unprecedented levels of political support that it now won. As has been described, a key feature of the party’s

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growing appeal, north and south, was the perception among the electorate that Sinn Féin was a force for peace. Those growing levels of support also served to increase the significance and weight of Sinn Féin’s voice in negotiations. Again, this raised anew the possibility of republicans achieving the political veto that the Adams–McGuinness leadership had long sought. To some extent, this veto had already been de facto achieved with the growing insistence of the British government that talks be inclusive (provided the IRA maintained its ceasefire). Such a policy flowed from the conviction that only a settlement with Sinn Féin’s imprimatur was likely to be capable of delivering peace. In the famous words of the Irish diplomat, Fergus Finlay, it was imagined that talks without Sinn Féin, would not be ‘worth a penny candle’.26 The logic of this position was clear; namely, that if Sinn Féin could be tied in to an agreement, then it became far more likely that the IRA would definitively end its campaign. Yet, the corollary of such reasoning was the fact that it afforded Sinn Féin greater influence than it might otherwise have merited. Moreover, the effect of this ethos was to present Sinn Féin with the opportunity to achieve a real political veto in Northern Ireland, as it closed the gap between itself and the SDLP. It was, therefore, towards the attainment of these interconnecting objectives that Sinn Féin, now the primary vehicle of the mainstream republican movement, directed its activity in this period.

Negotiations and agreement: the challenge As has been stated, although Sinn Féin had been a firm advocate of their being called, the launching of all-party talks in 1997 presented the Adams–McGuinness leadership with a huge challenge. The scale of that challenge only increased as the outline of what would become known as the ‘Belfast’, or ‘Good Friday’, Agreement became clear. With the ‘Heads of Agreement’ document of early 1998 having represented a dilution of the ‘green-ness’ of the ‘Frameworks’ documents, the last weeks of negotiation saw this watered down even further. In those final days, for instance, the number of ‘annexes’ detailing north–south cooperation were reduced from three to one, while the number of designated areas for potential cross-border cooperation fell from forty-nine to twelve (of which only six were eventually enacted). This aspect of the Agreement was subsequently described by David Trimble’s biographer, Dean Godson, as a ‘great triumph’ for the UUP leader and it would seem that Trimble himself may even have wondered whether the scale of his victory might not be too great – to the point where the republican leadership might not be able to endorse the deal.27 When it was finally agreed, the Good Friday Agreement, by any reckoning, stood a significant way short of being a ‘republican’ solution to the Northern Irish conflict. The IRA itself acknowledged this explicitly, stating, ‘Viewed against our republican objectives . . . this document clearly falls short

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of presenting a solid basis for a lasting settlement.’28 Similarly, Gerry Adams, when reflecting on the negotiations that produced it, declared that the Agreement was ‘not the preferred option of any of the participants – certainly not Sinn Féin’s’.29 In truth, the republican leadership could scarcely have argued otherwise. The Agreement appeared to represent the undisputed triumph of the ‘consent principle’. As Article 1(iii) of the document stated, those party to the Agreement accepted that it was ‘wrong to make any change in the status of Northern Ireland save with the consent of a majority of its people’.30 Furthermore, in line with this recognition, the Republic of Ireland had agreed to alter its own constitution to remove the irredentist claim to Northern Ireland that had been implicit in articles two and three. Whereas Sinn Féin had previously inveighed against such a move (during the Brooke talks of 1991, for example), saying it would be tantamount to agreeing ‘that partition is legitimate’, it now seemed prepared to accept the change as part of the wider deal.31 The quid pro quo for the acceptance by Irish republicans and nationalists of such measures was only to be the creation of institutions of mandatory power-sharing in Northern Ireland, alongside an ‘Irish dimension’ involving north–south cooperation.32 While this meant that Sinn Féin was to be given a seat in government, there was little escaping the fact that this was to be in a provincial government based at Stormont, within the United Kingdom, rather than in a newly united Ireland. This despite the assertions of the republican leadership as late as 1996 that people could ‘be sure of this – Sinn Féin will be no part of a return to Stormont’.33 Now it seemed, as one of their members acknowledged, that Sinn Féin was ready to ‘administer British rule in Ireland for the foreseeable future’.34 Moreover, it was doing so in a context in which the combined forces of Irish nationalism – north and south – appeared to have accepted, in the words of Paul Bew, the ‘democratic legitimacy’ of partition.35 Given that republicans had long objected to such an outcome – seeing partition as instead rooted in the illegitimate unionist veto – the Agreement thus seemed to indicate that a process of major ideological revisionism had occurred within republicanism. Indeed if, as Jonathan Tonge and Gerard Murray suggest, the history of the ‘Troubles’ is best understood as an intranationalist ‘debate’ over the way forward for the nationalist community in Northern Ireland, the Agreement appeared to mark a categorical SDLP victory.36 The model of cross-community power-sharing, coupled to limited cross-border institutions, was one that the SDLP had effectively been pursuing, in the teeth of republican opposition, since at least the Sunningdale accord of 1973–4. By assenting to the Good Friday Agreement, therefore, Sinn Féin appeared to have reconciled itself to that which it had once despised. It had made legitimate that which had long been considered inherently illegitimate.

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As a result, the Agreement obviously had the potential to cause serious internal problems for the republican leadership; all the more so when it is remembered that the shadow of republican history loomed over it. As has been described, the apparent lesson of that history was plain: those who had moved away from military action had always, in the end, abandoned the republican struggle altogether. The definitive example of this was held to be the decision of Michael Collins to sign the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921, which founded the southern Irish state but split the IRA and provoked civil war. Thereafter, ‘traditional’ republicans had viewed Collins as the ultimate Judas, who had both betrayed his comrades and subverted the true Republic. For the Adams–McGuinness leadership, the danger was that the Agreement would be their Treaty. Unsurprisingly, this line of argument was seized upon by ‘dissident’ republican organizations and individuals opposed to the Adams–McGuinness leadership, who argued that mainstream republicanism had indeed ‘sold out’.37 For this reason, the republican leadership was quick to announce that it was the ordinary Sinn Féin membership that would ultimately decide the party’s attitude to the Agreement, by virtue of a special ard fheis to be held in May 1998.38 There was to be no question of the Adams–McGuinness leadership unilaterally signing up to an Agreement, prior to their having persuaded the wider republican movement of its merits. As Gerry Adams has pointed out, the leadership wanted to be sure that republican acceptance of the Agreement did not come simply as the result of a diktat from on high. Instead, the leadership sought to ‘give people ownership’ of the changes that the party would have to make in order to accommodate itself to the new political environment (such as ending abstentionism from Stormont).39 Or, viewed more cynically, it might be said that the leadership was keen to attain ‘collective endorsement’ for its decisions and thereby ensure ‘collective blame’ should things go wrong. The obvious problem of allowing ordinary republicans to decide, though, was the danger that they might make an ‘incorrect’ decision in the eyes of a republican leadership that had already come to the conclusion that the accord should be approved. Consequently, persuading the movement’s grassroots of the deal’s qualities was one of the most significant challenges the Adams–McGuinness leadership faced in this period. Having first negotiated the Agreement, the republican leadership then had to negotiate with its own supporters. The seriousness with which this task was viewed can be gauged from the assertion of Conor Murphy, a senior Sinn Féin Member of Northern Ireland’s Legislative Assembly (MLA) that ‘the most important negotiation that you face is the one with your own base’.40 Such a sentiment was very much in keeping with the view of the wider republican leadership. As Adams has since acknowledged, for him, it was essential that republicans, ‘maintain internal unity and cohesion’.41 Sinn Féin’s support for the Good Friday Agreement represented another moment in the history of modern republicanism

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where the leadership fought hard to avoid a potentially terminal schism. Indicative of this at the time, An Phoblacht/Republican News urged that unity be ‘the watchword’ of republicans.42 In addition, in the week prior to the special Sinn Féin ard fheis on the Agreement, the front page of the party newspaper declared ‘United we stand’, while the accompanying editorial talked of republicans taking the struggle ‘forward in unity’.43 The message for the reader was clear: the integrity of the republican movement should be a central consideration in the debate and its aftermath. In seeking to maintain republican unity, the Adams–McGuinness leadership was undoubtedly aided by the fact that, in some senses, ‘the split’ had already occurred, with the departure of those who were later labelled ‘militarists’ to form the ‘Real’ IRA in autumn 1997.44 Despite this, though, it was clear that the republican leadership still felt it had to work hard to sell the Agreement to its rank-and-file supporters. Jim Gibney has thus spoken of the leadership’s desire to, ‘bring people with us, through the huge changes we’ve had to make in recent years’.45 In this context, a vital sweetener that the leadership could present to the republican grassroots was the fact that the Agreement provided for the release of IRA prisoners. The significance of this can be judged from the fact that accounts of the talks that led to the Agreement reveal Sinn Féin’s negotiators focusing more of their attention on this issue, than on the constitutional questions that underlay the actual conflict.46 As to why this should have been the case, the most plausible explanation is that the Adams–McGuinness leadership, recognizing the fundamental (pro-Unionist consent) character of the deal that was emerging, quickly realized the importance of obtaining concrete benefits for republicans in other areas. They grasped that it was crucial that in the aftermath of the Agreement, An Phoblacht/Republican News should be able to carry front-page headlines, such as the one that announced triumphantly, ‘Our Prisoners Come Home’.47 Given the special place that republican prisoners held within the movement, the fact that the Agreement appeared to work to their advantage was a powerful argument in its favour among grassroots republicans. Indeed, as Moloney has detailed, the prisoners’ support for the Agreement was decisive during the Sinn Féin ard fheis that voted on the deal in May 1998.48 The appearance on the platform of the Balcombe Street gang (or the Balcombe Street ‘heroes’, as An Phoblacht/Republican News preferred to call them) – men arrested twenty-three years previously for a spate of bombings in and around London – provided the emotional enticement for rank-and-file party members to endorse the Agreement.49 The gang, and over twenty other republican prisoners (including Padraig Wilson, the Officer Commanding [OC] the IRA in the Maze), had been granted one day’s parole specifically to attend the conference. Not only did several speak at the proceedings to recommend acceptance of the Agreement, but the audience would have been only too aware that rejection of the deal would have consigned the men to a return to jail, with little hope of early release. Against

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this sort of background, it was no surprise that when the time came, the ard fheis voted almost 95 per cent in favour of the accord.50 The promise that republican prisoners would be released, however, was not the only device that the Adams–McGuinness leadership used to persuade the movement to endorse the Good Friday Agreement. Rather, the leadership developed a series of interlocking arguments, or what Todd Hartman calls ‘frames’, by which the Agreement was to be viewed and presented these to the republican base.51 In this way, the Adams–McGuinness leadership sought to give people the ‘ownership
of the Agreement that Adams had talked about, but ownership based on an understanding of the Agreement that was wholly in tune with the way in which the leadership wished it to be seen. In this regard, it was noticeable from the beginning that the Adams–McGuinness leadership was careful not to ‘over-sell’ the Agreement. There was, as has been described, a clear critique that could be made of the Agreement on traditional republican lines. As part of the effort to counter such criticism, therefore, leadership figures were quick to concede the shortcomings of the accord. They themselves did not exaggerate how far it went. Hence, in his Bodenstown speech of that year, Gerry Adams stated baldly that, ‘we do not yet have a peace settlement. The talks process has not settled centuries of British interference in Irish affairs.’52 The IRA had likewise already hinted at this when it had spoken of the Agreement as ‘falling short’ of republican objectives. The deal was instead to be seen as ‘the essential compromise for this phase of the peace process’.53 Or, as an article in An Phoblacht/Republican News in April 1998 put it (in language redolent of Michael Collins’ description of the 1921 Treaty as ‘not the ultimate freedom . . . but the freedom to achieve it’), the Agreement was to be viewed as ‘not a solution, but the potential for a solution’.54 Flowing from this notion was an idea of central importance for the republican leadership: that the Agreement should be viewed as having inaugurated a process of transition. In line with this, references to the creation of a transitional period, or intermediary phase (leading to eventual victory), soon become a regular feature of republican discourse on the accord. It was on this basis, for instance, that the Agreement was sold to ordinary republicans, prior to their ratification of the deal in May 1998.55 Thereafter, Sinn Féin’s newspaper confidently claimed that the party would approach the Northern Ireland Assembly and Executive as ‘transitional’ entities.56 Similarly, in his 2003 memoir, Adams referred to the Agreement as a vehicle ‘for fundamental, political and constitutional change’ and stressed its ‘transitional’ qualities.57 Interestingly, though, it would appear that there was some initial hesitation within the leadership about using even this notion of a transition, lest it too contribute to an over-selling of the Agreement. According to Anthony McIntyre, for example, grassroots republicans (himself included) were initially briefed that the deal was to be viewed as creating ‘a transition to

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a transition’, as opposed to simply a ‘transition’. The use of this seemingly bizarre terminology he attributed to the leadership’s fear of overstating what was in the Agreement and, thereby, creating a basis for future disappointment.58 After all, according to the criteria by which any deal might be considered transitional, as laid out by Gerry Adams himself prior to the accord, the Agreement could not be labelled as such.59 Despite such concerns, however, the republican leadership did ultimately embrace the concept and within weeks of the party having endorsed the Agreement, An Phoblacht/Republican News was describing it as ‘part of a transitional process to a national democracy’.60 By accepting and using the transition ‘frame’, the republican leadership had to confront the fact that it would inevitably lead to comparisons being drawn between its actions and those of Michael Collins in 1921–2. In this regard, as has been suggested, the rhetorical similarities were only too clear. Prior to his death in 1922, Collins had maintained that he did not view the Treaty as a lasting settlement of the ‘Irish question’. Instead, he referred to it as the best deal available at that time and a possible ‘stepping stone’ to full Irish freedom; in such fashion did he too talk the language of transition.61 Yet, given the subsequent history of the 1921 Treaty, the founding of the Irish Free State and the Irish Civil War, the ‘transition’ concept had become indelibly tarnished in republican minds. For many, it had come to stand as a by-word for the surrender of principles. Thus, in order to combat the negative connotations of the decision of the Adams–McGuinness leadership to embrace its own transitional process, the period from the mid-1990s also saw the rehabilitation, to some extent, of Michael Collins’ reputation within republican circles. A simple, yet obvious, indication of this rehabilitation was the fact that a poster of Neil Jordan’s 1996 film on Michael Collins (which portrayed its subject in positive light) was displayed prominently in the Sinn Féin office in Parliament buildings at Stormont after 1998.62 While this could just be dismissed as an irrelevant triviality, it is hard to believe that even this minor appropriation of Collins’ image could have been possible only a decade previously. Moreover, it seems to have been very much symptomatic of a wider re-evaluation of the figure of Collins within ‘Provisional’ republicanism, which had been in evidence ever since the Adams–McGuinness leadership had begun to reassess the continued viability of the modern IRA’s armed campaign. In 1990, for instance, An Phoblacht/Republican News carried an approving review of Tim Pat Coogan’s biography of Michael Collins, which emphasized the idea that Collins ‘saw partition as the central problem’ and would have used the Treaty as a ‘stepping stone’.63 Meanwhile, the very title of the article, ‘Was Michael Collins a Provo?’, served notice as to the possibility of Collins’ reputation being restored.64 By the same token, when Jordan’s film later came out, the reviewer in Sinn Féin’s newspaper described it as ‘one of the most significant films ever made on an Irish historical theme’.

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The article also focused attention once more on the notion that Collins’ acceptance of the Treaty did not mark a betrayal of his republican beliefs: ‘Collins was undoubtedly trying to play a double game. He believed he could set up the stepping-stone Free State, help the IRA in the North and destroy the Treaty by degrees.’65 Such logic was in evidence in a further article in An Phoblacht/Republican News – this time in October 1999 – which again rejected the ‘received wisdom’ of Collins having sold out the cause. Instead, it argued that his attitude to partition was ‘much more Fenian’ and claimed that he had ‘intended to do something on the North and that “something” was to be of a military nature’. These plans were understood to have been thwarted by his untimely death, which unleashed a ‘carnival of reaction’ across Ireland.66 The conclusion of the article was even more resonant for the modern republican reader: ‘Everyone in this movement should remember Collins. Collins’ strategy in the Six Counties after partition amounted to nothing less than the tactical use of armed struggle.’67 Needless to say, by this stage the implied parallel between Collins and the Adams–McGuinness leadership was only too obvious. For this reason, Collins, it would seem, was no longer to be viewed as the proverbial ‘bad guy’ of republican history, but rather the progenitor of a new brand of republicanism, to which Gerry Adams and his supporters were the rightful heirs. In neither case was the decision to end the IRA’s campaign to be viewed as a betrayal of belief. Instead, Adams and McGuinness with the Agreement, just as Collins before them with the Treaty, were to be understood as having provided a stepping stone to full Irish freedom. Unlike Collins, though, the message was that the modern leadership would deliver final victory. It was not just to a modified version of Irish history, however, that the republican leadership appealed, as it sought to justify support for the Good Friday Agreement. Rather, as was the case regarding their earlier reassessment of the IRA’s armed struggle, comparisons from the wider international arena were also used by the leadership to push their supporters towards acceptance of the accord. In this context, links with the ANC in South Africa proved highly useful once more, particularly during the republican discussions that immediately followed the Agreement. Indeed, the republican leadership actively sought the ANC’s help in the task of persuading ordinary republicans of the value of the deal. At Sinn Féin’s annual ard fheis in April 1998, for instance, held only a week after the Agreement negotiations had been concluded, the Deputy Secretary-General of the ANC, Thenjiwe Mtintso, spoke to delegates and urged them to support the deal.68 Similarly, prior to the reconvention of the ard fheis three weeks later, to take the critical vote on whether or not to endorse the Good Friday Agreement, a South African delegation went into the Maze prison and spent time there convincing republican prisoners of the benefits the Agreement would bring. This delegation was led by the ANC’s Cyril Ramophosa, a former Secretary-General of the organization, and ‘Mac’ Maharaj, a man previously involved in the ANC

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underground.69 While it would be wrong to exaggerate the importance of the ANC in producing the subsequent republican ‘yes’ vote for the Good Friday Agreement, it would seem likely that their efforts did play a part at some level. The obvious attraction of the ANC model for republicans was the fact that the South African organization had entered a peace deal, which had paved the way towards its eventual triumph, with the achievement of black majority rule in South Africa. It thus corresponded entirely with the interpretation of the Agreement being suggested by the Adams–McGuinness leadership. The essence of the leadership’s use of the language of transition was the idea that not only did the republican movement’s ideological objectives remain achievable, but also they were being advanced by an endorsement of the Good Friday Agreement. As Sinn Féin’s chief negotiator, Martin McGuinness, declared, when speaking to the 1998 ard fheis that took place within days of the Agreement: The union has undoubtedly been weakened as a result of the inclusion of a clause linking the life of the union to the will of a majority in the Northern state. It is a bit like a partner in a relationship saying that the relationship is over, but that s/he is willing to wait until the children have grown up.70 On this basis, he claimed the Agreement was undoubtedly a ‘basis for advancement’; a line echoed by the IRA, when it described it as ‘a significant development’.71 Implicit too within McGuinness’s reasoning was a new emphasis on the demographic factor as one that was likely to work to republican advantage. Such a line of argument was similarly observable in Gerry Adams’ assertion that Northern Ireland’s status within the United Kingdom had been reduced to ‘one hinge’, while a 1998 article by Mitchel McLaughlin also pointed to the assumed inevitability of Irish unity on this basis.72 With the nationalist population believed to be increasing relative to its Unionist counterpart, there were suggestions that a pro-Irish unity majority could soon emerge within Northern Ireland. This majority, it was supposed, would then be in a position to achieve such unity by popular plebiscite, as provided for in the Agreement. It was with this in mind that republicans looked eagerly towards the 2001 census of the province’s population.73 Their disappointment when it failed to deliver the surge in nationalist numbers that they had hoped for was tangible, as Sinn Féin attempted to cast doubt on the validity of the results – an indication that some store had indeed been set on the idea that the Agreement had opened up a ‘demographic’ path to a united Ireland.74 Besides that, the prospects for the attainment of Irish unity were further said to have been improved by the Agreement on account of the all-Ireland structures that it provided for. By pushing the accord to its ‘outer limits’, the Adams–McGuinness leadership argued that these structures could play a

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key role in the development of an organic, de facto Irish unity. At the very least, they were seen as making republican involvement in a new Northern Ireland Assembly to some extent more palatable. Thus, as the Agreement later ran into problems over the question of IRA decommissioning, Sinn Féin’s demands for the formation of the Executive were frequently accompanied by calls for the creation of the North–South Ministerial Council.75 Then, when this body was finally established in December 1999, Sinn Féin asserted that a ‘new era of hope’ had been inaugurated – one in which the reunification of the island had been brought closer.76 Overall, then, this process of framing the Good Friday Agreement through a series of familiar and interweaving positive lenses played a vital role in the ability of the Adams–McGuinness leadership to deliver the republican movement’s support for the accord. The language used repeatedly took the form of a political ‘call to arms’, by which the leadership could refute accusations that it had sold out, or betrayed the struggle by signing the Agreement. The aim was to reassure potentially disaffected members that this was emphatically not the case. The message above all else was that the Agreement was not to be seen as the end of the republican struggle, but rather its transference to a new arena. As the front page of An Phoblacht/Republican News proclaimed, in the wake of the party’s decision to approve the deal, ‘The struggle continues’.77 Sinn Féin, it stated, would ‘now take the struggle into the new political structures’ in what was the ‘next phase of struggle’.78 Similarly, when it came to the moment when the party actually broke the taboo and took its seats in the new Northern Irish Assembly, it claimed to be entering ‘a new arena of struggle’.79 Meaningful change, it was contended, would in due course be brought about, by virtue of Sinn Féin remaining ‘absolutely committed to [its] Irish republican objectives’.80

Winning the debate: dissent versus dictatorship? The determination of the Adams–McGuinness leadership to ensure that republican debate on the Agreement was essentially conducted on its terms – and produced the ‘right’ result – has raised certain questions as to the democratic nature of Sinn Féin. After all, the approach of the leadership to such matters appeared to have been succinctly captured in an extraordinary statement by Danny Morrison back in 1991, when he wrote, ‘A debate is a major mistake if it’s in the absence of the leadership having made up its own mind.’81 In the case of the Agreement it would appear that the leadership had very much made up its own mind (that it would support the accord) and that the ‘debate’ that followed was more an exercise in bringing the republican base to support this decision. The extent to which arguments opposed to those of the leadership were given a fair and equal hearing was far from clear. This in turn, fuelled the arguments of many of the party’s dissenting republican critics, for whom a central complaint against Sinn Féin was (and is) a

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perceived absence of internal discussion. One of the most fervent of these critics, Anthony McIntyre, has argued that the peace process and, particularly, the move to accept the Agreement, accentuated the centralizing tendencies of the republican leadership. Having emerged from prison and re-entered the movement in the early 1990s, for example, McIntyre claims that it soon became clear that the bearers of dissent were to be identified as prime candidates for the persona non grata award. Furious party apparatchiks would froth at the mouth at the slightest sign of a hand they did not control going up at a meeting.82 As a result, he argues, the movement became increasingly dominated by ‘one unchallenged grand narrative’, overseen by a ‘totalising, violent, repressive, Sinn Féin regime of truth’.83 Internal dissent, McIntyre alleges, was stifled to the point where it no longer existed within Sinn Féin or, indeed, within the wider republican community. To this effect, he has highlighted what he believes to have been the forced closure of a republican forum, the ‘Bobby Sands Discussion Group’, in early 1995, soon after it hosted a public meeting in Derry in which awkward questions were asked of the Adams–McGuinness leadership.84 In addition, McIntyre has pointed to his own experience (and that of others) of intimidation, flowing from a determination to speak out against the official party line.85 Such arguments have only been reinforced by the testimonies of those who left Sinn Féin in the post-1998 period. One of the most high profile of these people was, without doubt, John Kelly, who had been there at the formation of the ‘Provisionals’ and acquired fame for his indictment (and then acquittal) in the 1970 ‘Arms Trial’ in the Republic of Ireland.86 In early 2004, Kelly stepped down from Sinn Féin and subsequently claimed it was because of the controlling and increasingly ‘totalitarian’ ethos within the party. The rank-and-file, he maintained, were not encouraged to have, or were even discouraged from having, views that were not the views of the leadership . . . there was no doubt that it became pretty much like an East Berlin, Ceaucescu, or Maoist kind of organization, where you had thought police going round wondering who was saying what, and if they were deviating from the Adams–McGuinness line then they tended to be marginalized.87 Like McIntyre, Kelly identified the emergence of the ‘apparatchik concept’, by which he meant the development of a group of people close to the leadership, whose role was to police internal dissent.88 This ‘control mechanism’ included Denis Donaldson, the senior republican who, in late 2005, was revealed as a British agent within the movement, but who, prior to that point, was known only for his unswerving loyalty to the Adams–McGuinness

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leadership. As the details of Donaldson’s career came to light following his exposure (and later murder), it became clear that he had been something of an internal ‘ambassador’ for the leadership, policing dissent wherever it arose, whether in the Rathenraw estate in Antrim, South Armagh, or the United States.89 Thus, whatever his activities as an agent, Donaldson’s service within the republican movement appeared to confirm the notion that the leadership’s forbearance in the face of dissent was slight. The evidence of Martin Cunningham, a former Sinn Féin councillor from South Down, who followed John Kelly out of the party in 2004, tells a similar story. According to Cunningham, Sinn Féin had, by the time he left it, increasingly come to represent, ‘Dictatorship, just dictatorship . . . Anybody who disagrees with the party is sent on their way – quite a few republicans have gone and what have they been replaced with? It is not a democratic party.’90 Interestingly, even those who remained loyal party members have appeared willing to acknowledge that, at least in relation to the peace process, Sinn Féin operated along strictly vertical lines of control. Jim Gibney, for instance, himself part of the Adams–McGuinness leadership, has admitted that Sinn Féin’s ‘very powerful and dominant leadership’ led the way on issues of ‘fundamental’ importance during the peace process.91 Similarly, Eoin O’Broin, currently director of the party’s European affairs, has even conceded that, because of its background in the conflict, ‘the party is centralized . . . probably a little bit more centralized than it needs to be at this point’.92 As to why the republican leadership would feel it necessary to institute such rigid control of internal debate, John Kelly firmly believes that the answer lies partly in ‘insecurity’, arising from ‘the transition from physical force to constitutional politics’.93 This possibility, in itself, points to an interesting paradox; namely, that the process of ending the IRA’s campaign of violence has necessitated a militarization of Sinn Féin’s internal party culture, with increased emphasis being laid on strict party discipline. There is, however, a certain logic to this, when Sinn Féin’s various changes of direction are considered. After all, An Phoblacht/Republican News was understating the point somewhat when it claimed that the peace process had required republicans to enter, ‘dangerous and uncharted waters’.94 From the moment of the first IRA ceasefire, through the apparent acceptance of the consent principle and an Assembly for Northern Ireland, to the recognition that the IRA would have to decommission its weapons, the republican movement had to adjust and, at times abandon, once-cherished values. In the words of senior leadership figure, Jim Gibney, the leadership was, on each occasion, dealing with and revising the ‘fundamental tenets of republicanism’.95 In so doing, a certain level of ambiguity developed within the movement’s position on key issues, often as a result of the apparent disjuncture between republican rhetoric and republican action. This too, though, was welcomed to some extent by the party leadership. Writing for the Sinn Féin newspaper, for example, Jim Gibney has stated,

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If there is one big lesson coming out of the peace process over the last ten years, it is [that] words like ‘certainty’ and ‘clarity’ are not part of the creative lexicon that conflict resolution requires if it is to be successful . . . Give me the language of ambiguity. It has served the people of this country well over the last ten years. It has oiled the engine of the peace process. Long may it continue to do so.96 A consequence of such ambiguity, however, was the fact that the leadership left itself ever more vulnerable to the kind of traditional republican critique, as espoused by former prisoners such as Anthony McIntyre, Brendan Hughes, Tommy Gorman and others. Whereas the Adams–McGuinness leadership believed itself to be displaying tactical flexibility in the pursuit of its objectives, its detractors saw only an attempt ‘to rhetorically mask the slaughter of . . . sacred cows’.97 This, in turn, perhaps explains the reigning in of internal dissent within Sinn Féin. By threatening to diminish rank-and-file trust in the leadership, or worse still to fracture the movement, internal opposition was the one thing that the Adams–McGuinness leadership could least afford during the peace process. A central concern of the leadership was the idea that it should, as much as possible, carry the movement with it. The greater the volume of internal dissent, the less likely this was to have been the case; for this reason, such dissent was to be minimized, if not eradicated altogether. Interestingly, such reasoning may also explain why it was that the republican leadership appeared so vulnerable to revelations as to the existence of British spies and agents within its ranks. In this regard, the 2003 exposure of Freddie Scappaticci as ‘Stakeknife’ and the 2005 uncovering of Denis Donaldson’s covert activities proved especially damaging.98 The disclosure of their true affiliations raised new questions over the path chosen by the Adams–McGuinness leadership. Following the above formulation of Anthony McIntyre, many now wondered if the wrong ‘cows’ had, in fact, been led to the slaughterhouse. In this way, the episodes proved corrosive of the trust that was so crucial to the republican leadership. Allied to allegations that dissent was being stifled within the republican movement, they doubtless prompted some to question the agenda upon which this was purportedly the case. With that said, it does not necessarily follow that the rise of a tightly disciplined party culture and the attendant decline in internal debate can necessarily be taken as evidence of a sell-out by the republican leadership (whether under the control of the British security services or not). A propensity towards greater central control of the republican movement in no way negates the idea that the leadership continued, for the most part, to be comprised of genuine republicans (notwithstanding the apparent inevitability that other, further ‘spies’ will be uncovered). Nor does it, in itself, preclude the possibility that the leadership continued to act in pursuit of republican

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goals, albeit by novel means. In this context, such means clearly included a willingness to indulge a degree of ambiguity over republican intentions in the peace process, while also being prepared to carefully manage the message delivered to rank-and-file republicans. Yet, this was far from being indicative of any deep-seated ideological revisionism, or treachery. On the contrary, the positive language used by Sinn Féin’s leaders in relation to the Good Friday Agreement can be understood to have constituted something more than a rhetorical veneer, by which they sought to sell a ‘bad’ deal to the grassroots. Rather, it seems that the Adams–McGuinness leadership genuinely felt that the Agreement could be used to further their self-proclaimed ‘revolutionary project’.99 For the leadership, the war was not being brought to an end, but merely being displaced to another realm. That this should have been so may again help explain the growing strand of ‘authoritarianism’ within republican political culture; for a vision of politics that interprets it explicitly through the lens of ‘revolution’ or ‘war’ makes the tolerance of internal party dissent far more problematic. It was, after all, Mao Tse Tung who perhaps most forcefully spoke of the importance of discipline within a would-be revolutionary organization.100 This is not to suggest that the republican leadership in any way sought to directly emulate the Chinese Communist Party, but rather that its vision for Sinn Féin shared certain characteristics with that party (and those of the former Soviet bloc); characteristics that have been labelled ‘democratic centralist’.101 Chief among these was an emphasis on the subordination of the individual to the needs and wishes of the organization. Or put another way, there was to be little room for dissent and criticism against the leadership. As such, it would seem that it is possible to detect some kind of common mindset that tends to inhabit those for whom politics and conflict are intricately woven fields. For those holding to such an outlook, to permit widespread internal dissent and criticism is to give succour to one’s enemies and to reduce the effectiveness of one’s own efforts. Given the apparent internalization of an image of themselves as unreconstructed ‘revolutionaries’, it could even be said that it would have been surprising had republican leaders not, to some extent, sought to constrain free, democratic debate within the movement. With all this said, however, it must also be stressed that the authoritarian tendencies of the republican leadership should not be exaggerated. As even one of their most trenchant critics has recognized, the position of the Adams–McGuinness leadership had always rested on a potent mixture of coercion and consent, and this continued to be the case.102 Moreover, the leadership could point to different forums for internal debate that did exist. There were, for example, various outlets for the written expression of dissent and discussion over the years. The most recent incarnation, Left Republican Review (edited by Eoin O’Broin), followed in the train of other publications, such as Iris Bheag and The Starry Plough, which allegedly sought to encourage debate over the future direction of the movement. Thus, according to

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O’Broin, the purpose of Left Republican Review (LRR) was to facilitate, ‘strategic debate in the public arena’.103 Furthermore, contrary to what might be expected, the articles contained within LLR were often far from obsequious. As O’Broin was quick to highlight, a sample of articles from LRR’s first few editions included a piece from Eoin Rooney that criticized Sinn Féin for the failings of its supposed ‘socialist’ character.104 Elsewhere, there was an article from a former member of the republican movement, Geraldine Cusak, who had defected to one of the ‘dissident’ organizations because of what she saw as the ‘leadership-led culture’ of Sinn Féin.105 On the basis of articles such as these, O’Broin felt confident in his assertion that, ‘whilst [republicans] have a centralised political culture – which I think is a good thing – we also have, both internally and externally, spaces and places for debate’.106 It is a view with which Jim Gibney would definitely concur. In his opinion, the Adams–McGuinness leadership had always been ‘well aware of the importance of democratic discussion and democratic debate, and the importance of bringing as many minds to bear on particular issues as possible . . . Gerry Adams is very much a great believer in consensus – internal consensus’.107 There is an obvious temptation simply to disregard the views of people such as Gibney and O’Broin on this issue, on the grounds that, as relatively high-ranking party members, they are perhaps bound to defend it. All the same, there is some evidence to support what they are saying. The party’s ard fheis, for instance, does follow seemingly democratic procedures. Moreover, there were clear instances of ordinary party members forcing through motions in defiance of the stated wishes of the leadership. At the 2004 ard fheis, for example, delegates voted that party representatives should attend the more radical World Social Forum, rather than the mainstream World Economic Forum that was favoured by the leadership.108 By the same token, the party’s official policy on the 2003 invasion of Iraq by a US/UK-led coalition of forces, was one of perhaps more strident opposition than the leadership felt comfortable with.109 What can be said, however, is that such examples of dissent from the leadership line, tended to be confined to matters of socio-economic or foreign policy. Even then, there were clear limits to the acceptable level of dissent from the party line. The truth of this was observable in the experience of Francie Molloy, a long-standing Sinn Féin representative, who was suspended from the party in late 2005 for voicing his opposition to the regional ‘super-councils’ proposed by the Northern Ireland Review of Public Administration at that time (a proposition welcomed by the Sinn Féin leadership).110 Although Molloy was reinstated to the party several months later, this came on the proviso that he now accepted and supported the leadership’s position on local government policy.111 On issues relating to the peace process, meanwhile, the parameters of internal debate were constrained still further and decisions over the

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party’s approach to it were firmly concentrated in the hands of the Adams–McGuinness leadership. For Gibney, though, this was a matter of exigency, rather than a predilection towards authoritarianism. It was essential, he believed, that, ‘given the difficulties that the peace process has been in and given the big decisions that had to be taken, a lot of them had to be leadership led’.112 This reality, it should be stated, was not necessarily to the chagrin of the majority of grassroots republicans. There can be little doubt that the movement’s leadership, as a group, was hugely respected and many republican activists believed ardently in its ability to deliver on republican goals. In the aforementioned words of leadership member Gerry Kelly, the movement’s grassroots viewed the leadership as having a high degree of ‘credibility’.113 Such credibility meant that ordinary republicans, perhaps uncomfortable with some of the ‘big decisions’ being made, were nonetheless willing to trust their leaders to take whatever action they deemed necessary. Consequently, while it seems indisputable that Sinn Féin did operate on a relatively strict form of ‘democratic centralism’, especially in relation to the peace process, it did so, by and large, with the acquiescence of the overwhelming majority of its members. Hence, even someone such as Eoin O’Broin, who could perhaps be regarded as one of the more radical and open members of the party (and someone who had argued internally for greater decentralization and a more ‘grassroots approach’), declared himself categorically ‘a firm believer in party discipline’.114

Negotiations and agreement: the opportunity The discipline and unity of the republican movement proved to be one of the defining features of the peace process; for it enabled the Adams–McGuinness leadership to embrace whole-heartedly the Good Friday Agreement – that most ‘un-republican’ of documents. As to why the leadership itself should have wanted to do so, the answer lay in Adams’ and McGuinness’ recognition that, as well as constituting a huge challenge, the Agreement also presented Sinn Féin with a major opportunity. That this should have been so was a function of the near-unanimous welcome that greeted the accord from within nationalist Ireland. The twin referendums held on the Agreement saw a 94 per cent ‘yes’ vote in the Republic of Ireland, while over 96 per cent of northern nationalists similarly voted positively.115 On the one hand, such levels of support increased the pressure on republicans, raising the prospect of renewed isolation had they rejected the Agreement. At the same time, against a backdrop of overwhelming Irish nationalist backing for the accord, it was clear that if Sinn Féin could identify itself with the Agreement, then there were clear political benefits to be had for the party. An unmistakably ‘pro-Agreement Sinn Féin’ was likely to be rewarded at the polls by the electorate.

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In addition, the Agreement immediately offered a basis upon which the pan-nationalist consensus – of such importance to the republican leadership – could be maintained and even strengthened. This united nationalist front could, from the beginning, be juxtaposed to a Unionism that felt obvious unease with the accord. After all, even in the referendum that approved the Good Friday Agreement in Northern Ireland, only about 53 per cent of Unionists voted in favour of it.116 Thereafter, the delays surrounding the implementation of the Agreement were, to a considerable degree, a function of the Unionist community’s unhappiness with certain aspects of the deal. As David Trimble’s biographers make clear, this perceived unhappiness hamstrung his ability to deliver the support of the Ulster Unionist Party (the UUP – the largest Unionist party at that time) for the Agreement.117 This, in turn, as shall be seen, was something that Sinn Féin was able to exploit to its advantage with great success. In this way, the Good Friday Agreement became central to both the party’s own political appeal and its attempt to maintain a high level of pannationalist unity. Indeed, it is not implausible to suggest that Gerry Adams’ greatest achievement in this period was the sleight-of-hand he performed in April 1998, when in the hours and days after the Agreement was settled, he claimed ownership of it for the republican movement. It is this that explains why the Adams–McGuinness leadership went to the lengths already described to win its party’s support for the Agreement. In so doing, the leadership ensured it could be forthright and explicit in its endorsement of the accord and thereby derive the maximum possible political advantage. Subsequently, therefore, Sinn Féin established itself as the leading voice in favour of the Agreement. Within months of its ratification by referendum, the party newspaper, An Phoblacht/Republican News, began employing what would become a familiar refrain: ‘the Agreement must now be implemented’.118 Moreover, as problems developed over the issues of decommissioning and the creation of the Agreement’s institutions, this exhortation gathered vehemence and was used ever more regularly. At each so-called crisis in the peace process, Sinn Féin was vociferous in demanding that the British and Irish governments ensure ‘the full implementation of the Agreement’.119 At the same time, republican zeal in favour of the Agreement was repeatedly counterpoised to the seemingly niggardly attitude of the Unionist parties. The latter were lambasted for their ‘intransigence’ and their alleged efforts to ‘renegotiate’, ‘rewrite’, or ‘unpick the Agreement’.120 For David Trimble and his UUP (and indeed for the wider unionist community), the most troubling aspect of the Agreement was the apparently weak link between ‘guns and government’. Consequently, much of the negotiation that occurred after April 1998 centred on Unionist efforts to try and make these issues mutually dependent. They wanted Sinn Féin’s place in government to be conditional on the decommissioning of IRA weaponry. For Sinn Féin, though, this focus on decommissioning was simply ‘resurrected as an obstacle to political progress’

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and as part of an effort to ‘sabotage the Agreement’.121 Above all, it was portrayed as a ‘red herring’, designed to thwart the operation of the institutions created by the Agreement. Republican explanation as to why Unionists should be behaving in such a fashion tended to vary. On the one hand, the argument advanced was that David Trimble and his party, while supporting it, had failed to sell the Agreement to their own community. In the words of Sinn Féin councillor, Eoin O’Broin, for example, the problem was that, ‘we never had a Unionist party that was willing to engage in that kind of constructive and creative sale of the Agreement to their own constituency and own party organization . . . we haven’t had effective partners within Unionism to sell the deal’.122 The reason for this failure on the part of Unionism was said to be that Unionists were simply ‘afraid of the changes’ being delivered by the Agreement.123 Alongside this, though, other darker motivations were suggested to account for Unionist actions. Foremost among these was the notion that the Unionist parties had not fully reconciled themselves to power-sharing; that they remained, in the words of An Phoblacht/Republican News, ‘wedded to a failed and unworkable status quo’ and were reluctant to ‘share power with republicans or nationalists’.124 Or, as it was put more crudely on a different occasion, it was purely because they didn’t want ‘a Catholic or a Fenian about the place’.125 This in turn, was said to be indicative of the inherently sectarian nature of Unionism. Throughout this period and beyond, allegations as to the sectarian character of Unionism regularly filled the pages of Sinn Féin’s newspaper. For example, when the Holy Cross school disturbance erupted in North Belfast in 2002, An Phoblacht/Republican News reported at length on the alleged hypocrisy of Unionism. Their columnist, Laura Friel, referred to the ‘doublespeak’ of Unionists, who were criticized for demanding the exclusion of Sinn Féin ministers from the Northern Ireland Executive, even as loyalist attacks on Catholic homes continued. Friel also went on to imply that mainstream Unionist politicians themselves had a kind of ‘sneaking regard’ for the activities of the loyalist paramilitaries. Such logic was further developed in an editorial in August 2002, in which it was claimed that there was ‘blood on Trimble’s hands’ and it was said that he had deliberately ‘surrender[ed] the leadership of unionism’ to the ‘thuggish political dregs’ of the community.126 The underlying tone was that Unionism was, to a significant degree, a bigoted and reactionary ideology. In this vein, there also appears to have been a deliberate effort to erode the distinction traditionally made between Unionism, on the one hand, and loyalism, on the other. While the former label has generally been used to denote mainstream political parties, unconnected with violence, the term ‘loyalism’ has typically been ascribed to the paramilitaries and, therefore, carries sectarian connotations. From the end of 2002, though, references to ‘unionist paramilitaries’ began to enter the republican lexicon and, in the following year, these became entrenched.127 The message

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for the reader, or listener, was clear: Unionism and loyalism were to be seen as merely two heads of the same sectarian beast. In expressing such thoughts, there is little doubt that Sinn Féin was, on one level, merely voicing genuinely held concerns within the northern nationalist community, as to the extent and character of ongoing loyalist violence, as well as the level of Unionism’s commitment to power-sharing arrangements. The point here, however, is to emphasize the extent to which such rhetoric and action also served the strategy of the party at this time. Attacks on the character of Unionism were used to de-legitimize the concerns that Unionist politicians had with the peace process. Rather than being treated as reasonable and understandable grievances, such concerns were dismissed as the product of base, sectarian instincts. Thus, attempts by the UUP leader to get satisfaction over the ‘guns and government’ issue, were routinely described as his ‘pandering to rejectionist unionism’, through the adoption of a ‘wreckers’ charter’.128 What was labelled ‘rejectionist Unionism’ was said to be implacably opposed to the Good Friday Agreement, even as the Agreement was supported unequivocally by nationalist Ireland, whose leading ‘champion’ was Sinn Féin. It can be seen, therefore, that it was not only the Agreement itself that proved so valuable to the republican leadership in this period, but also the ongoing instability and negotiating process that accompanied the Agreement. The seemingly interminable rounds of negotiations provided Sinn Féin with the perfect forum in which the dichotomy described above could best be manifested: dark Unionist intransigence versus the apparent light of republican generosity and conciliation. In this regard, the protracted saga of IRA decommissioning was highly instructive. Doubtless again, this was an issue of internal republican sensitivity, because of the connotations of surrender that the issue aroused – and the leadership had, to some degree, to move slowly in order to mollify the ‘not a bullet, not an ounce’ element of its grassroots constituency. The process that transpired, however, was also carefully managed to generate movement at key moments in the wider peace process. The reality of this became clear as the likelihood of a return to armed struggle by the IRA receded in the years after the Omagh bombing of 1998. On the one hand, it is true that, from that point, there was a marked shift in republican rhetoric. It was, for instance, in September of that year that Adams first declared (in what became a well-used formulation) that, ‘the violence we have seen must be for all of us now a thing of the past, over, done with and gone’.129 And yet, even as the rhetoric became more peaceable, republican action on decommissioning, in terms of delivering what became known as ‘product’ (the actual handover of weaponry), continued to be both piecemeal and halting. From the first negotiations explicitly focused on the issue in 1999, through the institution of the so-called ‘modalities’ of decommissioning in 2001, to the four tranches of actual decommissioning that took place between 2001

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and 2005, the same basic pattern held true.130 Republicans moved forward, only in stages, only in the context of negotiation and only in such a way as to enhance the impression of a ‘progressive’ republican movement, pushing the limits of what it could achieve, set against a Unionist culture that wanted to, in the words of Gerry Adams, ‘impose a veto over political change’.131 Each step in the process saw the IRA offer the smallest possible incremental advance – offers which invariably proved satisfactory to the two governments, but insufficient for the republican movement’s Unionist interlocutors. This discrepancy was then used by republicans to illustrate the supposed disparity between republican benevolence and Unionist recalcitrance. In July 1999, for instance, negotiations led to Sinn Féin releasing a statement in which the party apparently acknowledged, for the first time, the importance of decommissioning.132 As Dean Godson has shown, however, even as the British and Irish governments felt that this statement provided a basis upon which to resolve the then crisis, David Trimble rejected the wider proposals of which it was a part, on the grounds that the republican statement used words such as ‘can’ and ‘could’, instead of ‘must’ and ‘will’.133 The UUP leader considered that it did not offer him the firm confirmation he required of an explicit IRA commitment to decommissioning. As a result, he simply felt unable to conclude an agreement on that basis. Republicans, though, claimed Trimble’s actions were the product of his desire to thwart the Agreement. The negotiations were said to have ‘foundered on the rock of unionist intransigence’ and Sinn Féin called on the British government to move ahead without the Unionists.134 The republican leadership, it was asserted, had ‘offered to stretch the republican position to the limit’, only for this to be ‘spurned’ by Unionists. The latter, it was argued, remained intent on ‘blocking . . . the implementation of the Agreement’.135 On other occasions too, even when the IRA’s actions did meet the requirements of Unionists, the suspicion remained that the Adams–McGuinness leadership had moved only as far as was judged necessary given the political pressures of the time. The sense of a deeper commitment to decommissioning and the use of ‘exclusively peaceful means’, as principle, was not forthcoming. Instead, it might be said that the republican leadership proved itself a skilful exponent of the ‘tactical decommissioning’ that one former IRA prisoner had spoken of in October 1999.136 By this process, republicans were able to induce the British and Irish governments, as well as the Ulster Unionist Party, to effectively ‘buy the same horse’, again and again from republicans – though each time for a different price. The result was that Sinn Féin was able to make significant political gains, both as a result of the concessions apparently yielded by repeated rounds of negotiation and also because of the favourable impression of republicans that the process created within nationalist Ireland. In the Republic of Ireland such an image became integral to the positive profile that Sinn Féin built for itself during this period. As the party’s director of publicity, Dawn Doyle, has admitted, the outworking of the peace process

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proved ‘very popular’ and made an ‘absolutely critical’ contribution to Sinn Féin’s growing electoral appeal.137 The idea that republicans were engaged in a genuine effort to achieve peace, but were being repeatedly frustrated in their endeavours by recalcitrant Unionism resonated among the southern Irish electorate. On the one hand, it ensured that the republican movement went a long way towards achieving the goal articulated previously by Mitchel McLaughlin when he had talked of taking ‘the word “peace” back’.138 At the same time, it afforded Sinn Féin the opportunity to have the republican view of Irish history writ large for nationalist Ireland on the current political stage, in the form of a morality play. Therein, the imagery was straightforward: republicans, good; the British/Unionists, bad. Among Northern Ireland’s nationalist community, meanwhile, a similar dynamic was in operation. As has been noted, that community had already shown itself willing to reward Sinn Féin for its ‘good intentions’ when the party’s vote increased at the 1996 Forum and 1997 general elections. The subsequent development of a peace process that appeared to pit republican concessions against ever more unreasonable Unionist demands merely contributed further to this trend. On top of that, Sinn Féin was also able to use the protracted peace process to show itself as the best defender of nationalist interests in Northern Ireland. In so doing, the party demonstrated the enduring power of a message based on ‘ethnic’, or ‘tribal’, nationalism. As has already been described, such nationalism had been a key ingredient in the political personality of Sinn Féin since the creation of the modern party in the early 1980s.139 Furthermore, the continuing importance that the Adams–McGuinness leadership attached to this aspect of the party’s character had been demonstrated by the prominent involvement of the republican movement in the disputes over Orange Order parades that emerged in Northern Ireland from the mid-1990s.140 Again, it should be acknowledged, such involvement was undoubtedly, in part, a product of the genuine resentment that many republicans and nationalists felt against Orange Order parades. Nevertheless, the significance of the issue in the present context is that, beyond such motives, it is also possible to identify clear political and strategic benefits that the republican movement could seek to gain by its actions. For one thing, the ‘parades’ controversy provided Sinn Féin with yet another opportunity to demonstrate its ‘can-do’ political personality, based on emotion-laden, street activism. Of greater import was the fact that the issue could easily be used to show Sinn Féin as the strident voice of the northern nationalist community, standing in the face of apparent Unionist aggression. Orange Order parades could be depicted, as they were by An Phoblacht/Republican News, as being, ‘the frontline for triumphant loyalism’, ‘carnival[s] of hate’ and indicative of the ‘roots of unionist sectarianism’.141 As recent scholarship has demonstrated, such portrayals can scarcely be said to constitute a fair and accurate reading of ‘Orangeism’ all-told; rather they belong to the realm of caricature. The Order

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is a complex, context-determined and far-from-monolithic entity – and in this respect, mirrors Unionism more generally.142 Yet republican interpretations attributed only the most dishonourable motives to Orangemen, even as nationalist opposition to the Order was cast in a purely positive light. The essence of the famous ‘Drumcree’ dispute near Portadown, for example, was said to be the desire and right of nationalists to live free from the ‘sectarian harassment’ of the Orange Order, in ‘an area where nationalists have always been treated as second-class citizens’.143 Their refusal to give in was taken to be indicative of the ‘sense of empowerment which the peace process has given to nationalists’.144 Not only did such representations allow republicans to present themselves as the foremost champions of northern nationalism, but they could also be used to deepen the wedge between ‘nationalism’ and ‘Unionism’ more broadly, with Sinn Féin once more appealing to nationalists as nationalists. As Ruth Dudley Edwards has described, criticism of the Orange Order was liable to gain purchase with even the most moderate nationalist, north or south, given that the parades issue was one that generated little empathy, or understanding, for the Unionist argument, in nationalist Ireland.145 The truth of this could be seen particularly clearly, in reactions to the Drumcree dispute. For instance, in the wake of the loyalist protests and violence that attended ‘Drumcree II’ in 1996 (when the parade, having initially been banned, was later forced down the Garvaghy Road by the RUC) the SDLP withdrew, as a protest, from the Northern Ireland Forum.146 The Fine Gael Taoiseach, John Bruton (who had previously signalled his disregard for pan-nationalism by refusing to meet with Hume and Adams in October 1995) also felt moved to condemn the actions of the RUC and criticized Unionist behaviour during the stand-off.147 In both instances, the constitutional rivals of Sinn Féin felt compelled to accept a more republican narrative of events. In such fashion did the parades issue, by engaging the ‘tribal’/communal instincts of Irish nationalism, broadly conceived, work to the strategic advantage of the republican movement. By the same token, these tribal instincts within Irish nationalism could be equally engaged by Sinn Féin in the context of a peace process that was increasingly reduced to a series of apparently unending negotiations. Against this background, Sinn Féin repeatedly pointed to the self-professed capabilities of its representatives as ‘the most effective negotiators’ for the nationalist community.148 In this way, it effectively played the game of ‘inter-ethnic competition’, seeking to demonstrate its superior ability to win concessions for its ‘tribe’. As Henry Patterson has highlighted, an important element of the republican movement’s approach to this game was its attempt to ‘hijack the equality agenda’.149 By portraying the enactment of human rights’ provisions and reforms in Northern Ireland (connected to the Agreement) as gains for the northern nationalist community, the party claimed ownership of such measures and declared them to be the product of its successful negotiating

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strategy.150 In the ‘zero-sum’ world of Northern Irish politics, such developments could plausibly be depicted as examples of Unionist ‘defeats’ and nationalist ‘victories’. What is more, these victories could then be claimed by Sinn Féin as evidence of what An Phoblacht/Republican News pointed to as the ‘growing confidence within the nationalist community’.151 The peace process was said to have created a community ‘on the march’, which would no longer accept the status of second-class citizens.152 Such nationalist assertiveness, it was argued, was a direct result of the self-confident and assured attitude of Sinn Féin – an attitude contrasted with, what it termed, the ‘SDLP brand of fearful, heads-down, mouths-shut nationalism’.153 The growing political strength of Sinn Féin was thus alleged to be a consequence of the fact that increasing numbers of nationalist voters were ‘making it clear that they do not want to lower their horizons, to settle for less’.154 An issue of particular significance in this regard for Sinn Féin was that of police reform in Northern Ireland. The party had always staked out a tougher line on this matter than the SDLP. When the question was passed to the Patten Commission in 1998, for instance, Sinn Féin had continued to put forward its claim that only the complete disbandment of the RUC would suffice.155 The SDLP, by contrast, adopted a more explicitly reformist position from the outset and, for this reason, was broadly supportive of the Patten Commission’s recommendations when they emerged.156 Subsequently, while Sinn Féin too became more supportive of ‘Patten’, it did so only after the SDLP had taken the decision to endorse the changes that were made to the police service in 2001 (when, following the Weston Park negotiations, the SDLP agreed to take its place on the new Policing Board and local District Policing Partnerships [DPPs]).157 Thereafter, Sinn Féin became increasingly strident in its defence of ‘Patten’, declaring that the acronym of the new SDLP-supported Police Service of Northern Ireland, PSNI, better stood for ‘Patten Still Not Implemented’.158 The SDLP was said to have ‘jumped too soon’ and accepted ‘half a loaf’ on policing.159 In so doing, republicans argued, the party had, ‘lost the hearts and minds argument within the nationalist community on this issue’ and ‘settled for too little too early’.160 Once again, this is not to say, it should be stressed, that the issue of policing was not one of some magnitude for republicans. Indeed, Gerry Kelly, Sinn Féin’s spokesperson on the subject, has described it as a ‘touchstone’ issue and talked of his belief that there needed to be what he termed a ‘proper beginning to policing’.161 Moreover, across the wider republican movement, there were indications of a deeply held conviction that policing reform had not gone far enough in Northern Ireland. In a 2003 academic survey, for example, 81 per cent of those who identified themselves as Sinn Féin supporters claimed that this was the case. Interestingly, the comparative figure among SDLP supporters was only 38 per cent – a sign of the greater depth of feeling on the subject that clearly existed among republicans.162 This was

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perhaps unsurprising, given that the question of policing raised important ideological issues for Sinn Féin. After all, for republicans, acceptance of the PSNI was heralded to signify yet greater acceptance of the Northern Irish state. It is noticeable that, even in 2005 (at a time when there were growing suggestions that Sinn Féin might be close to endorsing the policing arrangements), motions were put forward to the party’s ard fheis calling on Sinn Féin not to join ‘any [emphasis added] Six County Police Force’, either until there was a ‘united, free and independent Ireland’ or at least until the British gave ‘a declaration of intent to withdraw from Ireland’.163 While both the motions in question were defeated, their very presence on the agenda was indicative of the real strength of unease that continued to exist within the republican movement over the entire notion of Sinn Féin giving its support to a Northern Irish police force. And it was perhaps for this reason that the Adams–McGuinness leadership sought to delay formal acceptance of the PSNI for as long as was possible – with the matter only resolved in early 2007.164 In addition to such genuine reservations and concerns, however, it must also be noted that the policing issue did carry strategic benefits for Sinn Féin. The tougher line that the party adopted on the matter, in comparison with the SDLP, allowed Sinn Féin to keep distance between itself and its rival. Furthermore, the republican refusal to support policing arrangements in 2001 allowed Sinn Féin to take the credit for such changes as were made subsequent to that point. Such logic was, for example, deployed by the party in the run-up to the 2003 Assembly election in Northern Ireland, when it maintained that its defiant stance had ‘delivered substantial improvements on policing’, and that Sinn Féin therefore constituted the ‘best guarantee of policing progress’.165 In this way, the party’s approach to policing was entirely in keeping with the image it sought to cultivate for itself as the most effective expression of the northern nationalist community. And while there were obviously other aspects to Sinn Féin’s appeal, evidence as to the real importance of this message was offered by the aforementioned academic survey, which was done immediately after the 2003 Assembly election, in which the party comprehensively defeated the SDLP. Respondents to a questionnaire were asked to state their voter affiliation and then identify which party best represented their community. Unsurprisingly, 95 per cent of Sinn Féin voters felt Sinn Féin best represented nationalist interests. Astonishingly, however, 51 per cent of self-proclaimed SDLP voters thought so as well.166 Thus, it can be seen that Sinn Féin’s use of the peace process to enhance a vision of itself as the strongest advocate for northern nationalism undoubtedly contributed significantly to the political growth of the party in Northern Ireland. Finally, in addition to all of this, the outworking of the peace process also had a significant positive impact on the Adams–McGuinness leadership’s strategic objectives in relation to Unionism. In the first instance, this was because the process showed the possibility that serious division might be

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engendered within the Unionist community. The traumas of David Trimble and the UUP were testament enough to the truth of this and were duly acknowledged as such by republicans. An Phoblacht/Republican News, for instance, noted and celebrated ‘Unionist disunity’ over the Agreement, while Mitchel McLaughlin could be found admitting (in a moment of indiscretion) that one of the benefits of the peace process was ‘the degree of uncertainty and the lack of confidence in the unionist community’.167 In the context of the republican leadership’s vista for the ‘endgame’ in Northern Ireland, the existence of an un-confident, demoralized Unionism was a welcome prospect.168 What is more, the unfolding of the peace process and the way in which it allowed republicans to portray Unionism as the unreasonable, truculent partner in negotiations helped create the possibility that Unionism might actually be isolated, politically, within Ireland, and even, perhaps, from Britain. This notion, that the British government could be detached from supporting Unionism, was undoubtedly strengthened by the language used by Tony Blair’s government in relation to Northern Ireland and the Agreement. This tended to foreground the unprecedented and ‘historic’ nature of the peace process and Blair’s personal desire for a solution. It was Blair himself, after all, who had memorably stated at the time of the Agreement that, while it was not ‘a day for sound-bites’ he could ‘feel the hand of history’ on his shoulder.169 This and other utterances tended to convey the sense that Blair viewed the Agreement as very much part of his legacy. Certainly, the amount of time that the Prime Minister was willing to devote to the Northern Ireland peace process was indicative of the great lengths he was prepared to go to to try and make it succeed. For example, only a fortnight prior to the beginning of the 2003 invasion of Iraq, involving UK troops, Blair gave up over three days of his time to working with the Irish government on the matter.170 Furthermore, it was clear that the British were determined to put a devolved administration in place in Belfast and, to this end, were prepared to invest republican moves with great significance; arguably with greater significance, on occasion, than they deserved. Hence, as has been described, during the July 1999 negotiations on the Way Forward initiative, British government spokespeople (and the Prime Minister himself) were prepared to talk up what was on offer from the republican movement. There were references to a ‘seismic shift’ from republicans, despite it remaining largely unclear what exactly was on offer from the IRA at that time.171 As it turned out, what was on offer was not enough for the UUP and, consequently, David Trimble rejected the proposals. On this occasion, the UUP leader was eventually backed by the government, but it cannot have escaped the attention of the Adams–McGuinness leadership that, in its quest for a solution to the Northern Ireland problem, the British government was prepared to strain, and even damage, its relationship with Unionism. With regards to moderate Unionism, this was ultimately what happened in 2003, when the government acquiesced in an Assembly election, in the absence of the decommissioning

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guarantees from the IRA that Trimble and his party had sought. The result was the UUP’s defeat at the hands of the DUP. For the republican leadership, then, the hope was that the British government might be persuaded to break, not just with one or more of the Unionist parties, but also with Unionism as a whole. It was this logic that informed Sinn Féin’s frequent and strident calls, from the moment that the Agreement first began to run into trouble, for the British government to ‘break the unionist veto’, or dispose of the ‘Orange Card’.172 By increasing the pressure on the British to break with first Trimble and later Paisley over the ‘guns and government’ issue, Sinn Féin envisaged a situation in which the two governments would then work together to impose a solution over the heads of Unionists; all the more so, if the latter appeared divided, as seemed to be the case during the peace process. That there existed such a possibility was judged to be one of the great lessons of the Anglo-Irish Agreement. After all, despite their criticism of the accord, Sean O’Callaghan has observed that it had also shown republicans that ‘the British government would ignore the wishes of unionists if it suited them’.173 Flowing from this was a belief that the British government might be induced to behave similarly again; this time, though, for more ‘republican’ ends.174 As a starting point, it seems clear that it was imagined that this would involve the establishment of the all-Ireland aspects of the Agreement, even as the Northern Ireland Assembly and Executive remained in abeyance. Evidence to this effect can be seen in Sinn Féin’s repeated calls, during suspension, for exactly such a solution. This was to be the ‘plan B’ that they intermittently called on the governments to adopt.175 Had such a course of action been followed, it would have represented a notable victory for Sinn Féin – for whom, as party members frequently pointed out, the Assembly was the least desirable aspect of the Agreement.176 The Adams–McGuinness leadership looked instead to the accord’s cross-border institutions as creating the possibility for the de facto introduction of ‘joint authority’. It was this, after all, which Adams had defined as Sinn Fein’s objective at the outset of the peace process.177 Republicans looked to a scenario in which a British government would at last ‘break’ with Unionism, leaving the latter completely isolated politically. Thereafter, as Gerry Adams had first outlined some two decades earlier, it was imagined that a demoralized Unionist community would further fragment, with a section accommodating itself to the project of Irish unity being driven by a vibrant Sinn Féin, growing in political strength on both sides of the Irish border.178

Conclusion In 2001, the Adams–McGuinness leadership realized a significant and longstanding strategic goal when Sinn Féin overtook the SDLP as the majority party among Northern Ireland’s nationalist population. With the republican

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party taking four seats to the SDLP’s three and winning some 51 per cent of the nationalist vote, that year’s British general election reflected the power shift that had taken place within the nationalist community.179 Almost two decades after Gerry Adams had publicly articulated the concept, the republican movement could now claim to hold a ‘political veto’ regarding the future of Northern Ireland. The truth of this was noted by the former senior republican, Danny Morrison, when he remarked approvingly, ‘Sinn Féin is now in a position where it can call the shots. Nothing can move without it. Tony Blair might like to move without it, but he can’t.’180 This point was underlined further as Sinn Féin consolidated its triumph, moving from marginal victor in 2001, to undisputed master of northern nationalism in 2003. The Assembly election that year saw the party now capture 58 per cent of the nationalist vote, as opposed to the SDLP’s 42 per cent share. In terms of the number of seats held in the putative assembly, Sinn Féin claimed twenty-four to the SDLP’s eighteen; an exact mirror-image of the first Assembly election result of five years previously.181 Even as republicans welcomed this success, however, it increasingly forced the Adams–McGuinness leadership to confront the fact that there was not much further the party could go, electorally, within Northern Ireland. As Jim Gibney, a senior leadership figure, has explained, ‘We’ve reached a stage in the north here where, there’s not a ceiling on the Sinn Féin vote, but in the nature of things . . . the Unionists, voting tactically, have the ability to impose restrictions on Sinn Féin’s electoral growth.’182 It was for this reason, then, that the years after 2001 saw Sinn Féin shift the focus of its energies southwards. With the republican political veto de facto established in Northern Ireland, the most pressing task facing Sinn Féin was the development of political strength in the Republic of Ireland. It was the effort to attain this objective that Sinn Féin now primarily addressed itself in the years after 2001.

5 Sinn Féin Centre Stage: The Search for Political Growth, 2001–4

‘We’re keen to build now in the south . . . It’s probably our number one priority at this point.’ Jim Gibney1

Introduction With the republican political veto effectively in place in Northern Ireland from 2001, the attention of Sinn Féin switched increasingly south of the border. This is not to suggest that Northern Ireland was abandoned. On the contrary, the party sought to consolidate its lead over the SDLP – something it did with considerable success, as the results of the 2003 Assembly and 2004 European elections showed.2 Moreover, as shall be demonstrated, the Northern Irish peace process continued to be a crucial vehicle for Sinn Féin, by which the party could advance its agenda and present itself in a positive light in the Republic of Ireland. Nevertheless, the effort to achieve significant political expansion in the south was now given new urgency by republicans. Indeed, in the words of Jim Gibney, it became ‘the number one priority’ for the party in this period.3 In placing new emphasis on the south, Sinn Féin sought to build on the tentative foothold it had established there in the 1997 Irish general election. On that occasion, as has been described, the party succeeded in having its first TD elected and secured some 2.5 per cent of the national vote. In addition, local elections in 1999, when the party had tripled the number of seats it held (to the still small overall total of twenty-one), had offered further evidence that Sinn Féin might construct a base from which it could achieve major political success. Such success was seen, from the republican perspective, as fundamental to the process of ‘reclaiming the 26 counties for republicanism’.4 As has been noted, Sinn Féin’s southern strategy was an integral part of the broader endgame envisaged by the Adams–McGuinness leadership in 133

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relation to the conflict. It was imagined that the political potency of republicanism there would be a key determinant of whether a united Ireland could be achieved – not only because it was thought that republican strength in the south would place greater pressure on the British, but also because it was envisaged that, in the aftermath of British withdrawal, the existence of a vibrant all-island republican movement would impress upon Unionists the inevitability of Irish unity.5 Even in the meantime, the growth of Sinn Féin as a political force in the Republic of Ireland raised the prospect that it might enter government there; most likely as coalition partner to its ‘distant cousin’, Fianna Fáil. When placed alongside the party’s permanent position in government in the north (at least in theory under a functioning Agreement), its entrance into government in the south could be portrayed as a major symbolic victory for the republican movement. Holding power on either side of the Irish border, the party itself could contribute to the ‘psychological repartitioning’ of the island. Unity in the make-up of the two governments, north and south, could convincingly be depicted as the prelude to greater unity for the two states involved. On top of this, Sinn Féin’s place in government was likely to be ‘bought’ by the party at the price of Fianna Fáil agreeing to adopt ‘greener’ positions in the negotiations of the peace process. And even prior to entering government, an expansionist Sinn Féin could plausibly hope to force Fianna Fáil to embrace such positions through the pressure it placed on its larger rival to uphold its republican credentials. As Jim Gibney has explained, the growth of Sinn Féin ‘strengthens our all-Ireland agenda, and it gives us added political muscle when we’re dealing with the British government and the Irish government, to push them further in terms of the all-Ireland element to the Good Friday Agreement’.6 That all-Ireland element of the Agreement was important to Sinn Féin as ‘the most practical strand of the plan for a united Ireland’, which was steadily ‘making the border irrelevant’.7 The republican leadership thus sought to utilize those aspects of the Agreement that could be used to push forward the de facto evolution of Irish unity, in advance of the party being in a position to achieve de jure unity. Consequently, in the period after 2001, this activity was stepped up with Sinn Féin both looking to expand the role of the new North–South Ministerial Council wherever possible, and also seeking to identify other areas where an agenda for a kind of ‘creeping unity’ could be advanced. With regards to the latter, there were calls, for instance, for MPs from Northern Ireland to be given access to the Dáil.8 There were also suggestions that representatives from Northern Ireland might be admitted to the upper house in the Republic of Ireland, the Seanad.9 Elsewhere, ‘Ógra Shinn Féin’, the republican movement’s ‘youth wing’, led a campaign in favour of allowing Northern Irish citizens the right to vote in Presidential elections in the Republic, while, by 2005, Sinn Féin itself had begun calling on the Irish government both to produce a Green Paper on Irish

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unity and to create an all-party Oireachtas Committee to plan for such unity.10 When arguing for the implementation of this type of measure, the electoral expansion of Sinn Féin obviously lent extra weight to the party’s case. At the same time, the republican leadership clearly felt that the party’s highprofile commitment to such issues was an important factor in helping to generate that expansion in the first place. According to Eoin O’Broin, a central facet of Sinn Féin’s appeal at this time was the fact that it was thought to be ‘strong on the national question’.11 By so being, it can be said that the party continued to look to the ‘hidden Ireland’ to which Gerry Adams had referred back in 1991 – a ‘hidden Ireland’ that was imagined to be strongly nationalist, if not overtly republican, in outlook.12 In the absence of the IRA’s military campaign, the republican leadership felt even more strongly that Sinn Féin could capitalize on this dormant constituency. In the words of one of the party’s Northern Irish Assembly members, Barry McElduff, it was imagined that the ceasefire had ‘liberated Irish nationalist opinion to get in behind Sinn Féin’.13 Even as such views gained currency within the republican movement, however, it was also recognized that while it was important for Sinn Féin to retain its republican credentials, this in itself was not sufficient to generate sustained political growth in the Republic of Ireland. On the contrary, it was accepted that the party needed to develop policy positions across a range of issues – a point that had been made forcibly to the leadership during its first foray into southern politics back in 1982. Then, Sinn Féin had won a derisory 1 per cent of the vote.14 The Sinn Féin President of the time, Ruairi Ó Brádaigh, had recognized that this was essentially a function of the fact that Sinn Féin was seen by the electorate as a predominantly northern party, with little to say on broader social and economic issues in the Republic.15 As has already been examined, the Adams–McGuinness leadership had thereafter sought to combat such perceptions through the building of an identifiably left-wing Sinn Féin with a coherent political personality. Now, as republicans sought to place increased focus on the southern arena in the years after 2001, this effort to develop and refine Sinn Féin’s political character was taken to an entirely new level.

Political development anew Central to the effort to make Sinn Féin a genuine political force in the Republic of Ireland in this period was the maintenance of the party’s image as a radical, left-wing force. In line with this, the party developed a platform that was unreservedly opposed to discrimination in Irish society – whether related to lifestyle, gender, sexuality, or race.16 This anti-discrimination, proequality platform was encapsulated in the slogan, ‘An Ireland of Equals’.17

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First used in 2002, this convenient phrase was repeated almost ad nauseam by republican spokespeople from that point onwards, as a signal of the party’s socially progressive intent. On this basis, Sinn Féin aimed to make itself the champion of those whose rights were being infringed within modern Irish society. Closely tied to this was the fact that the party also continued to look primarily to those constituencies that contained the more underprivileged sectors of the population. Sinn Féin portrayed itself as standing outside the traditional political system, representing what Gerry Adams referred to as, a ‘coalition of the dispossessed’.18 Such a coalition was said to consist of those people who faced social discrimination, as well as all those for whom the Celtic Tiger had proven illusory. As Eoin O’Broin has described, they were the ‘large sections of society’ who had been ‘left behind’, even as others prospered.19 In practical terms, this translated on the one hand, into the maintenance of the kind of activity in which Sinn Féin had long been involved. Since the time of its first involvement in the drugs issue, for example, Sinn Féin had continued to engage with the matter and this remained the case. As in the 1980s and 1990s, this engagement rested on strong support for the efforts of local communities to deal with drugs-related problems. Again, the very existence of such problems was held to signify ‘the state’s failed legacy’; all the more so, when set against the context of the Celtic Tiger.20 As An Phoblacht/Republican News noted scathingly, ‘Across the inner-city [of Dublin], communities are forced to live with the scourge of drugs and unemployment while the government boasts of the benefits from Ireland’s Celtic Tiger economy.’21 The party declared that, having been apparently abandoned by middle-class and official Ireland, working-class communities with drugs problems were fully entitled to establish their own institutions in response. Thus, just as with the Concerned Parents Against Drugs groups, Sinn Féin members actively encouraged, and became involved in, newer organizations that emerged during the 1990s, such as the Coalition of Communities Against Drugs (COCAD).22 The party’s support for this type of group remained steadfast, even though it occasionally threatened to damage Sinn Féin’s wider image – particularly over fresh accusations of vigilantism (such as those laid against the party’s candidate for North Kerry, Martin Ferris, in the run-up to the 2002 Irish general election).23 Alongside this activism on the ‘drugs’ problem, Sinn Féin also sought to maintain a high profile on various other issues. Much attention, for example, was paid to ‘Dublin’s housing crisis’, which was said to largely affect the poorest in society and be a product of the government’s failure ‘to provide suitable and adequate accommodation for those on the waiting list’.24 By the same token, Sinn Féin took on the cause of opposing refuse charges when they were introduced by the Irish government from 2000. These were said to be another ‘assault on the low-paid’ and ‘another unacceptable feature of McCreevynomics’ (a reference to the Fianna Fáil Finance Minister,

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Charlie McCreevy, who had introduced the charges).25 Elsewhere, from Ryanair baggage handlers, to Dublin bus-workers, to the nurses of the health system, Sinn Féin publicized and backed the demands of workers against both their bosses and the establishment.26 As An Phoblacht/Republican News commented, industrial disputes of this nature were to be viewed within a wider framework that highlighted ‘the major inequalities which exist in the much vaunted “Celtic Tiger” economy . . . [and] the squalid reality of the Celtic Tiger’. The problem was said to be that ‘those who are producing the new wealth in this still rapidly growing economy are not sharing in its benefits and [as a result] are being screwed to the wall.’27 In line with this, Sinn Féin’s position was still one of firm opposition to the neo-liberal model of economic growth that had been pursued by successive Irish governments since the 1980s. The essence of that model (as accepted by the other main Irish political parties) had been to ‘roll back’ the state by privatizing industry, while simultaneously seeking to foster economic growth by attracting significant levels of foreign direct investment into Ireland, through a low-tax regime and the creation of incentive structures. For Sinn Féin, such measures belonged only to ‘a profiteer’s charter, doomed to failure’.28 With regards to privatization, for instance, as the issue gained new salience with the proposed break-up and sale of the state-controlled airline, Aer Rianta, from 2003, and the suggestion that Dublin’s bus services might be privatized as well, Sinn Féin placed itself definitively among those who were against such proposals.29 Similarly, the party was a consistent opponent of one of the consequences of privatization: investment in Ireland by multinational companies. This kind of investment was deemed by Sinn Féin to be exploitative and, ultimately, unreliable as a source of economic growth. To this end, the party regularly highlighted those cases in which multinational companies had come to Ireland, but later decided to scale-back or withdraw their operations. Whether this involved Apple computers in Cork, or the Fruit of the Loom clothing factories in Derry and Donegal, An Phoblacht/Republican News drew attention to the closure of plants and the job losses that these entailed. Both were said to be ‘a damning indictment of successive Dublin governments’.30 By the same token, the fact that Ireland’s offshore oil and gas resources were being explored by multinational companies was described by the Sinn Féin TD, Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin, as the ‘scandalous’ product of ‘successive Irish governments [having] effectively sold off our natural resources’.31 On the basis of this logic, the party became an active participant in the campaign launched in 2005 against Shell Oil and its plans to construct an upstream high-pressure pipeline to bring gas from the Corrib oilfield (off the Irish coast), to an inland refinery at Rossport in County Mayo.32 When several farmers were jailed during the campaign for taking their protests too far, Sinn Féin declared its ‘outrage and disgust’, as well as its full support for the ‘Rossport Five’.33

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What these and other episodes reflected was the enduring self-image of Sinn Féin as a ‘party of protest’, representing the working, and even the under, classes. It saw itself as a party standing with the Irish ‘people’ (as defined by republicans), against a political, social and economic ‘establishment’ that had let those same people down. This inherently anti-establishment character was central to the party’s identity and was tied to the belief of many republican activists that they themselves embodied a more honest, conviction-based brand of politics, as distinct from other political parties in the Republic of Ireland. As Gerry Adams declared during an interview with the Irish Times in 2002, republicans believed themselves to have retained ‘the idealism and the sense of public service that some others had, but which they have lost’.34 This aspect of the party’s image was undoubtedly given a boost by the shadow of corruption that enveloped both Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil from the late 1990s. As the political establishment succumbed to a series of inquiries investigating alleged financial irregularities, bribery and embezzlement, Sinn Féin was on-hand to criticize the dishonesty of a ‘political class’, to which it clearly felt it did not belong.35 Hence, the report of the McCracken tribunal (which examined cash payments from the Dunne business family to senior politicians, including the former Taoiseach, Charles Haughey) was said by the recently elected Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin to be ‘an indictment not only of the individual politicians named in the report but of their parties’.36 An Phoblacht/Republican News, meanwhile, condemned the ‘liars and swindlers . . . of the two major political parties in the 26 Counties’, and asserted that ‘an alternative to the politics of privilege and graft must be created’.37 With the subsequent emergence of the Moriarty and Flood tribunals (looking, respectively, at payments to politicians and the link between politicians’ planning decisions and financial donations from businessmen), this was to prove a line of argument from which Sinn Féin could realistically hope to benefit. By January 1999, as further corruption revelations even threatened the integrity of Bertie Ahern’s government (and the Taoiseach himself was forced to appear before the Moriarty tribunal), the party was pointing to a ‘crisis across the political divide’.38 Elsewhere, it claimed that the Flood tribunal had given people ‘a glimpse of the seamier side of political life in Ireland’ and shown ‘just how political decisions are taken and how democratic structures are subverted’.39 That such a message could resonate with the wider public could be seen from the results of an opinion poll published in the Irish Evening Herald in September 2000. This showed that some 56 per cent of people believed that Bertie Ahern had not been honest in his statements to both the Moriarty tribunal and the Dáil, regarding his knowledge of various political donations. By contrast, the same survey also revealed that Gerry Adams, enjoying 57 per cent personal approval ratings, was regarded as the most popular party leader in the Republic.40 Of course, such polls are far from

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infallible, but these results would appear to indicate that this aspect of Sinn Féin’s appeal did carry some purchase among the southern Irish electorate. For this reason, Sinn Féin unsurprisingly took every opportunity it could to cast itself as the bearer of an honest, anti-establishment ethos, juxtaposed to the allegedly ‘corrupt elite’ of Irish society.41 Through a focus on the alleged corruption of its rivals, Sinn Féin sought to present itself to the electorate as a realistic and viable political alternative. In so doing, the republican leadership appeared to hope that Sinn Féin might even establish itself as the effective political opposition of the day. After all, as far back as May 1998, when news first emerged of a possible merger between the Democratic Left and Labour parties, Sinn Féin was optimistically assessing the potential for just such an outcome.42 When the merger of the two parties did indeed take place later that year, Sinn Féin confidently declared that it had created a ‘growing space for a party to the left of Labour with a strong republican position and with a network of activists on the ground throughout the capital and throughout the 26 Counties. Sinn Féin is that party.’43 The growing political strength of Sinn Féin, particularly after it became the fourth largest party in the Republic at the 2002 general election (taking 6.5 per cent of the total vote), merely reinforced this confidence. Although, on that occasion, the party still only won five seats (out of 166), it did come exceptionally close to victory in at least another five. Notable ‘near misses’ were provided by Dessie Ellis (Dublin North-West), Nicky Kehoe (Dublin Central), Larry O’Toole (Dublin North-East), Sean MacManus (Sligo-Leitrim) and Joe O’Reilly (Meath). These performances contributed to an overall perception of Sinn Féin success, with the party more than doubling its national share of the vote, as compared to the previous general election.44 Increasingly, therefore, the party began to claim that what was occurring was a ‘realignment of Irish politics’, which would allow Sinn Féin to work with other ‘progressives’ to ‘provide a principled opposition’.45 That some sort of realignment did begin to affect the Irish political system in this period seems undeniable. After all, as Michael Laver and Michael Marsh have demonstrated, an underlying trend since the 1980s had been the declining ‘base-line vote’ of the two largest parties, Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael – from a position where they captured 85 per cent of the vote in 1982, to one where they took 67 per cent of the vote in 1997.46 As the aforementioned election results imply, it was the smaller parties such as Sinn Féin, that moved into the space they vacated. Besides these electoral accomplishments, Sinn Féin also found other opportunities to play a leading role in what might loosely be termed an antiestablishment opposition bloc. A case in point, for instance, came when the Republic of Ireland voted on whether or not to endorse the Nice Treaty in a referendum in 2001. With the three largest political parties lined up in support of the treaty, it fell to Sinn Féin (alongside the Greens, the Socialists and various pressure groups), to oppose the treaty on the grounds that it

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infringed Irish neutrality and sovereignty.47 The humiliating defeat that the opposition inflicted on the government (with 54 per cent of people voting ‘no’, on only a 35 per cent turnout) served to boost Sinn Féin’s profile and credentials as the voice of an ‘alternative’ Ireland.48 As An Phoblacht/Republican News declared, the result (which was later reversed on a second referendum) was seen by republicans as evidence of both the ‘changed political landscape’ in the south and the fact that ‘Sinn Féin and the Greens are the effective and dynamic opposition in 26 County political life’.49 In other ways too, the notion that Sinn Féin might be considered the effective opposition was lent added credence by the actions of its opponents. The increasingly virulent attacks on the party by the Irish Justice Minister, Michael McDowell, for example, could be seen to have worked in this fashion. From early 2004, McDowell repeatedly criticized the unitary nature of the republican movement, arguing that there were ‘no Chinese walls between IRA money and Sinn Féin money’.50 Not only did he claim that the IRA and Sinn Féin were inextricably intertwined, but he also identified leading Sinn Féin politicians (Gerry Adams, Martin McGuinness and Martin Ferris) as members of the IRA’s Army Council.51 On another occasion he even likened the relationship between Sinn Féin and the IRA to that of the Nazi party and the Brown-shirts in 1930s Germany.52 Despite the apparently damaging nature of these accusations, it seems possible that Sinn Féin, at least initially, was not overly unhappy with attacks of this kind from someone like McDowell. For one thing, this was because the party was, for much of the period, shielded from the full force of McDowell’s attacks by its role in the peace process and (theoretical) presence in government in Northern Ireland. These undoubtedly increased the respectability of the party. At the same time, the fact that McDowell was widely viewed as very much a right-wing establishment figure meant that his hostility could plausibly be interpreted, as it was (and not just by republicans), as evidence of the apprehension with which the main political parties viewed the growth of Sinn Féin.53 Furthermore, McDowell’s position as a front-line Cabinet minister ensured that his regular attacks on the party gained much publicity and thereby served to elevate Sinn Féin’s status and importance beyond the level perhaps merited. In this way, McDowell may actually have helped the party towards fulfilling its goal of becoming the effective political opposition to the government in the Republic. Further in line with this goal, it is also clear that the Adams–McGuinness leadership recognized the importance of modernizing Sinn Féin’s policy agenda. While the party’s self-image continued to be an essentially radical one, the leadership realized that, in order to be considered a genuine alternative, fit for government, Sinn Féin had to offer a more sophisticated political message. Reflecting this, the way in which party policy was made changed significantly towards the end of the 1990s. Whereas, previously, many of Sinn Féin’s positions had developed semi-organically, with policy originating

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from individual Cumainn (branches), a more professional approach was now taken. Thus, not only was a Policy Development and Review Department created within Sinn Féin, but ‘experts’ on any given subject, even from outside the party, were afforded a far more prominent role in the procedure.54 Dawn Doyle, the Sinn Féin director of publicity, describes the process of Sinn Féin policy formulation in this era as follows: Now you have somebody commissioned to write a [policy] document . . . It’s done in consultation with people within the party who would have expertise on it and people outside the party who would be willing to help us. Then you would run a number of conferences – some at regional level, some at national level – to discuss it. And there people can put amendments and changes to it. Then normally, in the first instance, it would go as a consultation document to the ard fheis and then hopefully at the next ard fheis it will be passed.55 As a result of this process, Sinn Féin found itself increasingly able to produce far more erudite and detailed statements of policy, on all major political issues, than had previously been the case. Moreover, the actual content of that policy moved ever more towards the mainstream political agenda. Evidence to this effect could be seen from the greater attention paid to questions of economics. From the time it gained its first Dáil seat, Sinn Féin began to take a more active role in discussing the government’s budgetary policy. For the most part, the party’s stance on this issue continued to be imbued with a left-wing radicalism that reproached the government’s alleged preference for a ‘budget for the rich’ or a ‘charter for the wealthy’.56 Yet, accompanying such straightforward rhetoric, Sinn Féin also began producing its own pre-budget submissions and used Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin’s position as TD to publicize them.57 In 2002, for instance, the party called for the creation of a ‘fair and just tax regime’, which would include a 50 per cent ‘super-tax’ on earnings over a100,000, as well as an increase in capital gains tax and a freeze on reductions in corporation tax.58 Such suggestions were reiterated in the following years.59 Beyond this, Sinn Féin attempted to develop a fully coherent economic policy agenda that laid out, in clearer terms, what republicans wished to see happen in Ireland. The party’s production of substantial documents, such as Building a Just Economy in 2002, No Right Turn in 2003 and Eliminating Poverty – A 21st Century Goal in 2004, stood as testament to this effort.60 There were even signs that the Adams–McGuinness leadership was increasingly prepared to move Sinn Féin away from its more controversial policies in this area. Thus, even as the party continued to criticize the neo-liberal economic model and called for a ‘radical socialist republican alternative’, it also displayed a desire to avoid alienating the business sector.61 In February 1998, for instance, Gerry Adams had addressed the Northern Ireland Chamber

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of Commerce and spoken of widespread ‘misunderstandings’ of Sinn Féin’s economic policy. The Sinn Féin President then went on to state his belief that businesses, including ‘the multinational corporation’ should ‘facilitate investment and economic development’ – a position seemingly at odds with his party’s avowed hostility to foreign direct investment, as expressed elsewhere.62 Similarly, when addressing the Dublin Chamber of Commerce in 2004, Adams stated that while Sinn Féin was ‘not in principle opposed to higher taxes . . . we have no plans to increase them [emphasis added]’.63 This, despite the party’s manifesto commitment to raising both capital gains tax and corporation tax and to imposing a new 50 per cent super-tax. Finally, in January 2006, the party leadership actually announced a rethink of its economic policy in light of the ‘different world’ that was now said to exist.64 Doubtless such reassessment was driven, to a significant degree, by comments of the sort made by people like the Irish entrepreneur, Denis O’Brien, and Kevin Rollins, chief executive of the computer company, Dell. In late 2005, O’Brien described the possibility of Sinn Féin coming to power, on its existing economic platform, as a ‘frightening vista’.65 Rollins, meanwhile, suggested that a rise in Irish corporation tax (as previously favoured by Sinn Féin) might cause Dell to remove its operations from Ireland.66 Given that, by 2006, the latter company employed over 4,000 people in Dublin and Limerick and alone accounted for over 5 per cent of Irish exports, the impetus for Sinn Féin to change course was clear.67 To do otherwise meant preserving a policy that was likely to cause job losses, serious economic pain and be deeply unpopular with potential voters. In this way, the underlying trend in the evolution of the party’s economic policy reflected the desire of the Adams– McGuinness leadership for an ever-greater engagement with mainstream political life, with the aim of making Sinn Féin a viable and successful political alternative. Of even greater significance in this regard was the experience the party gained in government (albeit only for a short period) in Northern Ireland. The potential value of this experience was recognized by the Adams–McGuinness leadership at the time that the Northern Irish Executive was formed. As the Sinn Féin MP and MLA, Conor Murphy, has explained, the party opted to take control of the big-spending Health and Education departments – despite Health apparently being considered a ‘poisoned chalice’ – precisely because it gave the party ‘the power to impact as wide as possible across the community’. In so doing, it helped to ‘show the party’s capabilities’.68 The result, according to Murphy, was that whereas both governments and some of the other political parties thought, ‘Sinn Féin is OK for “street politics”, but take them out of the streets and put them into an institution and they’ll flounder’ . . . actually our ability to act was equal to and probably surpassed the capabilities of any other political party here.69

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The expectation of the republican leadership was that the southern Irish electorate would not have failed to notice this lesson as well; namely, that Sinn Féin was capable of handling mainstream political issues and could, therefore, be considered a genuine ‘party of government’ south of the border as well.

The ‘party of government’ versus the ‘party of protest’ The development of the ‘governmental’ aspect of Sinn Féin’s character was not a purely straightforward task for the Adams–McGuinness leadership. On the contrary, it proved itself to be something of a double-edged sword. Alongside the improved status and respectability it brought, it also threatened to throw up serious internal difficulties. Foremost among these was the fact that it risked diluting, or even destroying, the more radical ethos that was integral to both Sinn Féin’s political message and the party’s sense of identity. Thus, the party’s director of publicity, Dawn Doyle has described how her ultimate fear is that [Sinn Féin] will end up as an electoral party, or as a purely elected-representative party, where people don’t have a role to play. That would obviously be the death-knell of the party . . . Keeping the same kind of revolutionary ethos that we’ve had for thirty years has to be central to what we do from now on.70 Without doubt, Sinn Féin’s entry into government and the search for ever-greater political expansion threatened to undermine the kind of ‘revolutionary ethos’ that Doyle wished to see preserved. A simple example to this effect was provided by the aforementioned issue of ‘refuse charges’. While the party’s official position on this matter was one of outright opposition to the charges, it found it expedient, when in power on Sligo County council in November 2000, to introduce them.71 On that occasion, the justification offered was that it was better for Sinn Féin to compromise its principles and hold on to power (on a council where Sean MacManus had recently been elected the modern party’s first mayor in the Republic of Ireland), than to remain in principled isolation, out of power.72 A more high-profile illustration of the tensions raised by this clash of principles and power was provided by the question of private funding for public services in Northern Ireland (as encapsulated in the British government’s Private Finance Initiative [PFI] and Private-Public Partnership [PPP] schemes for Health and Education). As the Ministers for Education and Health respectively, both Martin McGuinness and Bairbre de Brun had to countenance the implementation of proposals of this nature. In so doing, they acted directly contrary to Sinn Féin’s commitment to comprehensive public services funded from general taxation alone.73 According to the party’s Assembly

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leader, Conor Murphy, the decision to override principle for the sake of power was again justifiable on the grounds of short-term expediency: People often throw up the issue of Public-Private Partnerships and how Martin and Bairbre operated those . . . the difficulty, firstly, was the policy of the Executive here was to use those and Martin and Bairbre as Ministers in the Executive were bound to abide by Executive policy. Secondly, there were a whole range of schemes already in train, that had they said, ‘Well, I have an ideological objection to Public-Private Partnerships’, would have stopped . . . you know, hospitals being built or schools being built. Now, that’s not an argument not to do it.74 Nevertheless, this issue clearly caused unrest within the party. In the words of Jim Gibney, it was ‘not a straightforward matter internally’.75 Indicative of this, John Kelly, the Sinn Féin MLA who left the party in early 2004, has since claimed that the implementation of PFI and PPP was something that ‘no self-respecting radical republican ought to support’.76 That it took place he ascribed to a view within the republican leadership that ‘McGuinness needed PFI to get a school built, so he could be seen cutting a ribbon. The same applied to Bairbre de Brun as Minister for Health . . . they felt that it was more important to be seen to be giving £40 million to a hospital, wherever that money came from’.77 For Kelly, this represented the ‘dumping of radical politics’.78 And while such criticism should obviously be treated cautiously (given Kelly’s acrimonious departure from Sinn Féin), when taken together with the fact that the party’s ard fheis passed a motion stating its explicit opposition to PFI/PPP, it would seem to accurately reflect the unease that many within the republican movement felt over the matter.79 The existence of that unease may well have contributed to the discussion over the future direction of Sinn Féin that took place in this period. It was a debate galvanized, to some degree, by the possibility that Sinn Féin (following its 2002 electoral success) might soon have the opportunity to enter coalition government in the Republic of Ireland – an issue on which entrenched lines of division clearly existed within the republican movement. On the one side were those such as the MLA Barry McElduff who stated, ‘I don’t think it will be very long before Sinn Féin is ready to say, “We’re ready for government in Dublin”.’80 By contrast, others, such as Dawn Doyle, claimed they would be ‘very uncomfortable going into coalition with any right-wing party’, by which she meant either of the two main parties in the Republic.81 Likewise, Eoin O’Broin argued that for Sinn Féin to enter government with Fianna Fáil would be ‘disastrous’, as it would ‘destroy the potential for a leftgreen-republican alliance’ involving Sinn Féin, Labour, the Green Party and Independents, which O’Broin felt was a better option for his party.82 Such differences were indicative of wider conflicts of opinion among republicans over the future development of Sinn Féin. At the heart of these

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divisions, as has been intimated, lay the debate between those who felt the greater priority should be attached to achieving political expansion and power, and those who wished to maintain ideological principle. Reflecting this, An Phoblacht/Republican News carried a series of articles in the summer of 2003 in which various contributors outlined their respective visions for party development in the short-to-medium term. Broadly speaking, the pieces could be divided between those calling for the pursuit of a ‘left republican alternative’, or a ‘left turn’ to avoid a ‘middle-class cul-de-sac’, as against those arguing that the priority should be building ‘political strength’ and mobilizing ‘the greater number of Irish people, North and South, in support of Sinn Féin’.83 While those in the second category did not argue for a nakedly opportunistic approach, their collective conviction was, as one contributor stated, that ‘Obsession with ideological purity and the following of dogmas that don’t suit objective conditions is a recipe for disaster.’84 As has been repeatedly demonstrated, this latter analysis was far more in keeping with the attitude of the Adams–McGuinness leadership and, for this reason, the balance between principle and power continued to be tilted firmly towards the latter at this time. This is not to say that the republican leadership was entirely devoid of principle. Rather, it is to note that their principles were tempered by a deep-rooted pragmatism, expressed neatly by the longtime leadership member and Sinn Féin vice-president, Pat Doherty, when he declared, ‘A good idea is only a good idea if it works. You can have all these theoretical positions . . . but if they don’t work, then all they are is words on paper . . . At the end of the day, there is no substitute for political strength.’85 Nevertheless, in seeking to achieve such political strength, it is clear that the Adams–McGuinness leadership had to be ever mindful of the fact that many within the movement would perhaps have preferred a greater prioritization of principle, as opposed to power. Internally, the leadership was forced to maintain a delicate balancing act: principle versus power, radicalism versus respectability. As had previously been the case, the foreign policy trajectory that Sinn Féin pursued in this period, reflected the interaction between these conflicting pressures. On the one hand, the party continued both to position itself very much to the left of the global political spectrum and to cultivate the international associations that flowed from this. Republicans, for instance, continued to champion the Palestinian cause, which was frequently juxtaposed to an Israeli state that was cast in negative light. At the time of the Jenin refugee camp invasion by the Israeli Defence Forces in 2002, for example, An Phoblacht/Republican News decried the, ‘butchery of the Palestinian people by the Israeli Army and Ariel Sharon’.86 By the same token, when PLO leader, Yasser Arafat, died, Sinn Féin’s newspaper pronounced, ‘The people’s leader – Yasser Arafat dies’.87 Not only did Gerry Adams then sign the book of condolence at Dublin’s Mansion House, but also he publicly laid a wreath at Arafat’s tomb when he visited Palestine in 2006.88 The fact that, by the

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time of his death, Arafat had largely been isolated and marginalized by the international community as a corrupt autocrat, primarily responsible for the Second Intifada that began in 2001, was overlooked entirely. In this regard, Sinn Féin still viewed itself as belonging firmly to the revolutionary left. Its condemnation of Israel fed into a wider critique of ‘imperialism’, as embodied by the United States. This was particularly so following the election of President George W. Bush as US president in 2000. At the outset of Bush’s presidency, for instance, An Phoblacht/Republican News claimed that his election was indicative of ‘how America learned to stop thinking and love the bomb’.89 At the time of his 2004 visit to Ireland, meanwhile, Bush was said to represent ‘the dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character’.90 More broadly, Sinn Féin displayed a recurring willingness to adopt positions antithetical to those of the US administration. With regards to Central and Southern America, republicans continued to show reverence for revolutionary icons, such as Fidel Castro in Cuba. The party thus lauded the ‘wonderful spirit of the Cuban revolution’, and claimed that this had created ‘the most egalitarian society in the Third World’.91 In December 2001, Gerry Adams even visited Havana and met with Castro – a trip made in the face of opposition from many of Sinn Féin’s American allies.92 Elsewhere, Sinn Féin evinced sympathy for the Venezuelan and Bolivian presidents, Hugo Chavez and Evo Morales, and their ‘Bolivarian’ revolutions, which were staunchly opposed to neo-liberalist globalization as favoured by the US.93 And yet, even as much of Sinn Féin’s international activity displayed a radical posture of this kind, so other tendencies were also increasingly visible. Of particular significance, for example, was the emphasis put on what were held to be the ‘lessons’ of the Northern Irish peace process. Hence, while republican sympathies clearly lay with the Palestinians, as opposed to the Israelis, the manner in which such sympathy was expressed was now rooted firmly in the context of the ‘peace process’ narrative. For that reason, the party’s public position in relation to the Second Intifada, while implicitly pro-Palestinian, also emphasized the importance of both sides getting back to peace talks. Thus, Joan O’ Connor, the then head of Sinn Féin’s International Department, expressed the party’s ‘concern at the deteriorating situation’ in late 2000 and stressed ‘the need for dialogue to achieve conflict resolution’.94 A similar story was in evidence in relation to Sinn Féin’s reaction to events in the Basque country. There, the party maintained a tradition of close ties to the Basque ‘independence movement’ of ETA and its political wing, Herri Batasuna. Now, though, such ties were articulated via a new discourse as to the possibility that there might be a Basque peace process, similar to that which had occurred in Ireland. In 1998, when the Lizarra Agreement appeared to open the way for just such a development in the Basque country, Sinn Féin declared itself firmly in favour of the initiative; all the more so when it led to an ETA ceasefire.95 Subsequently, reports on the state of the

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Basque peace process became a regular feature on the foreign pages of the party’s newspaper.96 And while that ETA ceasefire collapsed in 1999, backing was given to further Basque peace initiatives in 2003 and 2004.97 In this way, Sinn Féin’s foreign policy continued to mirror the domestic evolution of the republican movement. The party did not renounce its radical allies, but it did reinterpret the meaning of such alliances. Now they were judged less in the context of shared armed struggles for national liberation and more according to an allegedly universal model of conflict resolution. In keeping with this approach, Sinn Féin sought to establish itself as an international symbol of the transition from violence to peace. Whereas once it had been an ambassador for the virtues of the Armalite, now it sought to be so for the Agreement. To this end, the party increasingly distanced itself from those who continued to engage explicitly in ‘terrorism’ in this period. Thus, in the wake of the al-Qaeda attacks on America on 11 September 2001, Gerry Adams was quick to declare his opposition to what he termed ‘ethically indefensible’ terrorism.98 In the years that followed, other terrorist attacks – the 2004 Madrid train bombings, the Beslan school massacre of the same year and the London attacks of July 2005 – were all met with statements of condemnation from Sinn Féin spokespeople.99 It was also no coincidence that the first act of IRA decommissioning followed barely a month after al-Qaeda’s 9/11 attacks. The republican leadership had recognized that these had created a new dividing line in the realm of international affairs: in the words of President Bush, ‘You’re either with us or against us in the fight against terror.’100 In this context, the Adams–McGuinness leadership was keen to ensure that republicans did not end up on the wrong side of the divide. This distinction between republicans and terrorists was deemed to be vital if Sinn Féin was to take forward its objective of being seen as a mainstream political party, both domestically and internationally – and particularly in the United States. The importance of the latter had only been strengthened by the growing scale of financial assistance that the party received from its supporters in the US. By December 2000, for instance, the Friends of Sinn Féin organization claimed to have raised $4.5 million since its inception in 1995.101 Yet, in the wake of the 11 September attacks, donations to the party slumped markedly. During the second half of 2001, the organization reported proceeds amounting to only £12,000, as compared to £381,000 in the previous six months.102 Clearly, therefore, if the republican movement wished to continue to draw significant financial support from the United States, as the Adams–McGuinness leadership most certainly did, Sinn Féin needed to distance itself ever more obviously from political violence and terrorism. Even prior to 9/11, the necessity of doing just that had been made plain by the events of August 2001, when three Irish republicans had been arrested in Bogota, Columbia, accused of aiding the Marxist guerrillas of the FARC (Revolutionary Armed Forces of Columbia). This organization had been

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involved in a violent campaign against the Columbian government, drawing much of its finances from drug trafficking. It was this latter characteristic that gave it particular salience in relation to Sinn Féin’s political project in the US; for, to many Americans, the FARC was seen as the group primarily responsible for the cocaine problem on the country’s streets. As a result, the establishing of a link between them and the republican movement had the potential to seriously tarnish Sinn Féin in American eyes. With this in mind, the party’s initial response to the Columbian arrests was one of disavowal and denial.103 Subsequently, as the republican identities of the arrested men were confirmed, Sinn Féin shifted to describing their presence in Columbia as having been unsanctioned and purely personal.104 That this strategy was not entirely successful either, can be gauged from the obvious unease that the Columbia Three episode generated among Sinn Féin’s corporate allies in Irish America. Bill Flynn, for instance, one of the founders of the highly influential, Americans for a New Irish Agenda group that had played a prominent role in the early years of the Irish peace process, issued a statement describing the Columbian revelations as, ‘the greatest puzzle that I have seen in the entire 10 or 15 years that I have been involved in the north of Ireland’.105 The sense of uncertainty and suspicion that Flynn articulated was typical of many Irish Americans who had previously given vital support to Sinn Féin. As Jim Gibney has admitted: there’s no doubt Columbia was very damaging to Sinn Féin in the US. And damaging because it caused confusion . . . people couldn’t understand it . . . And a lot of work has been done by Sinn Féin representatives in the US, to try and deal with the fallout from that . . . but it’s not been a good situation for republicans to be in.106 Thus, the Columbian affair had already demonstrated the difficulties caused for Sinn Féin by continued links between republicans and international terrorism. The al-Qaeda attacks on America less than one month later merely gave added emphasis to this reality and forced the party to go further still in its efforts to dissociate itself from such relationships. However, not only did the post-9/11 environment make it imperative that Sinn Féin divorce itself from political violence, but also it made its association with the wider radical project more problematic. Squaring the circle between this radicalism and the importance that the party still attached to US involvement in the Irish peace process became increasingly difficult. Evidence of this tension could be seen, for example, in the party’s response to what was perhaps the seminal issue of the early twenty-first century: the US/UK-led invasion of Iraq. As the diplomatic build-up to that invasion reached its conclusion in March 2003, An Phoblacht/Republican News described what was going on as, ‘Countdown to slaughter’ and lamented the ‘suffering that will be inflicted on

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the innocent civilian population of Iraq’, as a result of the ‘unjust war’.107 Following on from this, Sinn Féin urged the Irish government not to allow US warplanes to utilize Shannon airport en route to the Middle East. After the war, the party became a firm advocate of the need for an immediate end to, what it called, the ‘illegal occupation of Iraq’.108 Sinn Féin, it should be stressed, did not go so far as to actively support the insurgency against the US presence in Iraq; this was left to the dissident republican organizations.109 Still, the party’s opposition to American policy on this issue was clear. Nevertheless, alongside this rhetorical opposition, only two weeks before the invasion of Iraq began, Gerry Adams led his party’s annual delegation to the St Patrick’s Day celebrations in the White House. Adams’ participation flew in the face of demands being made in the Irish Dáil at the time (by the Socialist Party deputy, Joe Higgins) that ‘the Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, [and] other Irish politicians’ boycott the celebrations, in protest at ‘the Bush Administration’s expressed intention to start an unjustified, illegal and inhumane war against Iraq’.110 Further, the whole St Patrick’s Day event, normally held on St Patrick’s Day itself (17 March), had been moved forward four days to 13 March 2003, so as to accommodate better the timetable for war in Iraq. In spite of all this, Adams and his team had visited the White House as intended and been prepared to shake hands with the American President.111 Moreover, a few weeks later, on 8 April 2003, with the war well under way, Adams headed another delegation from his party to Hillsborough Castle, the official residence of Northern Ireland’s Secretary of State, to attend the socalled ‘war summit’ between the American President and the British Prime Minister. On that occasion, Adams did hand President Bush a letter detailing his party’s opposition to the Iraq war.112 This opposition, however, did not prevent the republican leadership from doing business with President Bush; a fact that on this occasion proved too much even for many republicans. The result was that the then Sinn Féin chairman, Mitchel McLaughlin, was booed and heckled when be subsequently tried to address an anti-war rally outside Hillsborough that included Sinn Féin activists.113 Sinn Féin’s approach to the Bush administration and the Iraq war, then, was, in many ways, representative of the difficulties that the party faced in its foreign policy, as it sought to reconcile a radical global personality with mainstream diplomatic activity, particularly in relation to the United States. This, in turn, proved emblematic of the contradictions that confronted the party domestically as it sought expansion. The impulse for power of Sinn Féin the ‘party of government’, had always to be balanced with recognition of the more principled positions of Sinn Féin the ‘party of protest’. Plotting a path between these two poles was not always a straightforward task for the Adams–McGuinness leadership. A careful course had to be steered. In this, the republican leadership was certainly helped by the electoral success that Sinn Féin enjoyed, as the party both consolidated its hegemony over the nationalist community in Northern Ireland and made substantial political

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inroads in the Republic. Moreover, the ongoing peace process, by virtue of the role it played in generating that success, provided a vital unifying theme and project for the party, which eased the friction of the power versus principle conflict.

The ‘instrumentalization’ of the peace process That the peace process continued to be of critical importance to Sinn Féin in the period after 2001 is undeniable. Indeed, in the words of one republican activist, the party ‘sailed the wind of the popularity of the Peace Process’.114 As it had previously, Sinn Féin successfully used the faltering nature of that process, coupled with its professed commitment to the Good Friday Agreement, as key ingredients in the political mix it presented to the electorate on both sides of the Irish border. Once again, the principal target audience for the party was nationalist Ireland, which was deemed susceptible to the particular republican narrative. Within that narrative, the central theme was that of Sinn Féin as the embodiment of an assertive and dynamic Irish nationalism, facing up to an intransigent Unionism and its allies in the British state. Foremost among the latter were said to be the ‘securocrats’, on whom Sinn Féin blamed any adverse development in the peace process. Whether in the form of the Castlereagh break-in of 2002, the exposure of a spy-ring at Stormont later that same year, or the introduction and then reports of the International Monitoring Commission (IMC) that scrutinized paramilitary activity, any incident that carried potentially negative consequences for the republican movement was dismissed variously as the product of ‘black propaganda’, a ‘securocrat’ conspiracy, or the work of those committed to a ‘politico-military agenda’.115 In addition to such claims, which became commonplace during this period, the party also made extensive use of various rhetorical devices to deflect criticism of itself. A prominent example, in this regard, was what Cardinal Cahal Daly once defined as ‘whataboutery’.116 With regards to Sinn Féin, this entailed the turning of any accusations made against the republican movement back against the accuser, in order to weaken the force of the original accusations. Hence, when the British government decided to postpone indefinitely the scheduled Northern Ireland Assembly election in 2003, because of the failure of the IRA to deliver ‘acts of completion’, the party said of the British, ‘How dare you lecture us about democracy . . . [you] who have marginalised and disempowered whole communities’.117 Similarly, following the US/British-led invasion of Iraq, An Phoblacht/Republican News argued that the British Prime Minister, Tony Blair, had been ‘thoroughly morally compromised’ by the affair and continued that ‘Never again will he be in a position to preach to others about democracy and the use of force and neither will anyone have to listen when he does.’118

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By using language in this fashion, Sinn Féin sought to forestall any attempt to attribute blame to republicans for problems in the peace process. Instead, all such problems were depicted as being the work of those seeking to help ‘anti-Agreement Unionists’. For example, at the time of the October 2002 suspension of the Agreement’s institutions (on the back of allegations that there was a republican spy-ring at Stormont), An Phoblacht/Republican News declared the crisis to be merely a ‘smokescreen’, giving ‘sufficient political cover for rejectionist unionism to walk away from the Agreement without taking the blame’.119 As to why Unionists, including David Trimble and the UUP, should be seeking to dispense with the Agreement, this was once more attributed to ‘a sectarian agenda that harked back to the Orange state and the old Stormont regime’.120 As in the earlier phase of the peace process, this intransigent and sectarian Unionism was contrasted with a benevolent and flexible republicanism. To this end, familiar rhetorical tools were deployed. In October 2003, for example, in the build-up to yet another round of negotiations, Sinn Féin’s newspaper maintained that republicans were ready to ‘stretch beyond ourselves and beyond our commitments under the Agreement’. Unionists, by contrast, were said to be trying to ‘jeopardise progress’.121 The IRA was again carefully used by the Adams–McGuinness leadership to demonstrate republican commitment to the peace process. Time and again, it was claimed that only republican initiatives had served to unlock the ‘logjam’ that otherwise existed. The somewhat bizarre inversion of logic that this involved was captured by a statement from the organization in September 2002, which declared, ‘There is no threat to the peace process from the IRA . . . There would be no peace process but for IRA initiatives.’122 The reverse possibility that, but for the IRA and its actions, the need for, and duration of, an actual peace process would have been dramatically curtailed, was ignored. Indeed, the argument was subsequently extended further. By 2004, it had become commonplace for republican spokespeople to assert, as An Phoblacht/Republican News did, that that year marked ‘the tenth anniversary of the IRA cessation’ and that ‘Throughout those ten years, republicans have been the driving force of the Peace Process.’123 Not only did this build on the kind of distorted logic already described, but it also required an ‘airbrushing’ of history. The collapse of the ceasefire in February 1996 and the return to full-scale armed struggle between then and July 1997, were conveniently removed from this narrative. In this way, the ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’, increasingly became the ‘Tactical Use of the IRA’, with the Adams– McGuinness leadership achieving, in the words of one former member of the republican movement, a ‘subtle but brilliant use of the IRA’.124 On those occasions when the peace process appeared to run into difficulty, a gesture of movement from the IRA confirmed republican faith – especially when so many of their acts were self-labelled ‘historic’ and ‘ground-breaking’ and set against an apparently ungenerous Unionist response.

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Sometimes, the party sought to use this dynamic to appeal to nationalist Ireland – even over the heads of the Irish government. At moments of crisis in the peace process, for instance, the alleged failure of the Dublin government to play its proper part was often said to be the cause of the problem. Thus, following the breakdown of negotiations in October 2003, Sinn Féin labelled Bertie Ahern the ‘weakness in [the] peace process’ and accused the Irish government of ‘breaking the nationalist consensus’ by failing to ‘defend the Agreement’.125 By the same token, such charges were repeated, with added vehemence, when the Irish government agreed to the establishment of the IMC.126 Not only did this rhetoric reflect genuine republican unhappiness with the role of the Dublin government, but also it again raised the possibility that Sinn Féin might, in the earlier words of Tom Hartley, succeed in driving a ‘republican wedge’ into Fianna Fáil.127 However, Sinn Féin was not always at loggerheads with the Irish government over issues relating to the peace process. On the contrary, the Adams–McGuinness leadership discovered that the party could also benefit from finding common ground with those in power in Dublin. An example in this regard came when Sinn Féin found its opposition to the postponement of the 2003 Assembly election, to some extent, endorsed by the Irish government. The Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern himself, stated that postponement was a course of action he ‘opposed and continue[d] to oppose’.128 Furthermore, the Irish government was joined in this stance by several US Congressmen and even the US Special Envoy, Richard Haas. The latter voiced unease with the decision to postpone the election and called on the British government to hold the poll as soon as possible.129 By effectively re-affirming Sinn Féin’s argument, the Irish government (and different echelons of the US political establishment) lent added credence to the republican analysis of the situation. That analysis, as articulated by Sinn Féin, was that the British had acted in the manner of a ‘tin-pot dictatorship’ and thereby shown the ‘undemocratic’ nature of partition.130 Flowing from this stance, the party launched a ‘democracy denied’ campaign, which included calls for an, ‘island-wide day of action’ in protest at the British government’s behaviour.131 And while such calls went largely unheeded, the fact that other major participants in the peace process had offered similar criticism to that of Sinn Féin, merely increased the legitimacy of the latter’s view. In this way, then, there were clear strategic benefits to be had by Sinn Féin placing an emphasis on those issues that would resonate most strongly within nationalist Ireland, broadly conceived. A further example here was the issue of ‘collusion’ arising out of Northern Ireland’s ‘Troubles’. The allegation that members of the British security forces had been involved in murder – either passively or even actively – during the conflict, was a subject that could be exploited with relative ease, to show republicans as the victims of British ‘dirty tricks’. As a result, it was perhaps for this reason, that during the institutional hiatus over the summer of 2003, Sinn Féin sought to mobilize its

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support base on precisely this matter. The result was a well-attended rally in Belfast that called for the ‘truth on collusion’.132 Later, the party gave prominent coverage to the report by the retired Canadian judge, Peter Cory, which urged the British government to initiate a series of public inquiries into incidents of alleged collusion.133 When Cory was subsequently critical of the British decision to delay an inquiry into the killing of the Belfast lawyer, Pat Finucane, this too was highlighted by Sinn Féin.134 In this, the party again found itself on the same side as the Irish government, which also expressed disappointment at the British response to Judge Cory’s report.135 As with other matters, this is not to say, it should be emphasized, that the subject of collusion was not highly important to republicans themselves. In many cases, after all, it was members of the republican movement who were the alleged victims of the phenomenon. Nevertheless, the purpose here is again to highlight the potential strategic advantage that Sinn Féin could hope to accrue by focusing attention on the issue. As one with which the majority of Irish nationalists could find common ground – but common ground far removed from the British/Unionist position – a focus on this matter served to improve the political environment in which Sinn Féin operated, making it more conducive to a republican outlook. In this fashion, it was merely one more avenue by which the Adams–McGuinness leadership could hope to achieve cultural hegemony for the republican narrative and ideology, particularly in the Republic of Ireland. Sinn Féin’s success in this regard, in creating a political climate that was broadly inclined to view events from a republican perspective, can be seen from a brief analysis of the abortive ‘comprehensive deal’ between Sinn Féin and the DUP in late 2004. Unsurprisingly, Sinn Féin had placed even greater emphasis on the notion of a bigoted, reactionary Unionism, following the triumph of Ian Paisley’s DUP over the UUP in the Assembly election of 2003 (a message that was all the more persuasive, given Paisley’s personal political history). Writing soon after that triumph in December 2003, An Phoblacht/Republican News’s Laura Friel noted that ‘mob violence has been the hallmark of Paisley’s political rhetoric, unionist paramilitary violence has also been its bedrock . . . that man, like his party, presents a heady mixture of reactionary politics, religious intolerance and racist attitudes’.136 In order to emphasize the gap between Sinn Féin and the DUP, republicans once more portrayed themselves as solely interested in advancing the peace process, with frequent calls for direct dialogue with Paisley’s party. Such calls were made safe in the knowledge that they would never be answered in the positive; a point made emphatically by Paisley himself at the 2003 election count, when he grabbed the journalist Ivan Little by the lapels and bellowed at the man, ‘My party’s not for talking to Sinn Féin. And anyone who does will be put out of my party.’137 The contrast between the apparently ‘moderate’ Sinn Féin and the intractable DUP was emphasized, scarcely accidentally, by

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Adams, just over a month after the Paisley–Little altercation, when the Sinn Féin President declared: Let me reiterate Sinn Féin’s attitude to the DUP. Sinn Féin sets no preconditions whatsoever on talking to the DUP. Neither are we against sharing power with them . . . Our record shows clearly that we are for the peace process, the political process and the wider process of conflict resolution.138 Such themes were, of course, maintained as Sinn Féin and the DUP were pushed towards a ‘deal of deals’ by the two governments in late 2004. The idea behind this concept was that all outstanding issues, from the precise operation of the institutions (at that point suspended since October 2002), to the question of ongoing paramilitarism, would be resolved in the context of one all-encompassing set of negotiations. Thereafter, the governments hoped to see the institutions restored and Sinn Féin and the DUP enter a new power-sharing administration for Northern Ireland. In the run-up to the talks designed to achieve this goal, as might have been expected, Sinn Féin was quick to claim that the DUP was seeking to ‘undermine’ the Good Friday Agreement, while republicans were ‘leaving no stone unturned’ in an effort to get a breakthrough.139 That they would argue as they did – that Paisley was the real obstacle to progress – was hardly surprising, given the way in which Sinn Féin had used the peace process previously to advance its narrative of events. Remarkable, however, was the fact that the majority of the Irish media and political class were prepared to accept this explanatory framework. After the unsuccessful round of talks at Leeds Castle in September, for instance, the Irish Independent stated categorically, ‘Provos ready to go the full distance for a peace deal’.140 In similar vein, the Irish Times noted that the IRA was ‘willing to disarm by the end of the year’; while an Irish Examiner editorial claimed that continued difficulties stemmed from the fact that the DUP kept moving ‘the goalposts’.141 The Sunday Business Post was even more forthright, asserting ‘DUP scuppers North deal’.142 Such impressions were further strengthened by the reaction from both governments to the Leeds Castle talks. A joint statement, written in familiar language, declared that, ‘The governments believe that what is on offer now [from the IRA] is reasonable in its substance and historic in meaning.’143 Bertie Ahern, meanwhile, was heard to declare that the issue of paramilitarism had effectively been dealt with and all that remained to be resolved were questions of an institutional nature.144 When the talks process eventually did collapse in December, then, there was general agreement within the Irish media, as evinced by the reporting of the Sunday Business Post and RTE, among others, that this was a product of the DUP’s desire to ‘humiliate’ republicans – a desire supposedly verified by Paisley’s demand for a ‘Kodak

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moment’ (photographs of decommissioning) and his call for the IRA to ‘wear sack-cloth and ashes’.145 Media acceptance of the notion that it was the DUP that was largely, if not entirely, to blame for the collapse of the 2004 talks was, in turn, reflected in the attitudes of the wider public. Opinion polls at this time showed that Gerry Adams’ personal satisfaction ratings continued to ride at over 50 per cent. This figure was only slightly down on that of the Taoiseach himself and one that was indicative of Adams’ status as one of the two most popular party leaders in southern Irish politics.146 Indications were, that Sinn Féin’s wider popularity had in no way been dented by the talks’ failure and that the party’s overall share of the vote would continue to expand. With regards to the latter, there were even suggestions, not wholly unrealistic, by the end of 2004, that the party might come to hold the balance of power in the Dáil after the next Irish general election.147 What the foregoing indicates, therefore, is the extent to which Sinn Féin had successfully ‘instrumentalized’ the peace process in support of its broader political project. The party’s use of that process had assisted the creation of a climate in which a growing number of people seemed predisposed to accept a republican analysis of events. Indeed, it might be said that the peace process had opened up the possibility that Sinn Féin might finally be able to achieve the kind of ‘republicanization’ of the southern Irish electorate that Gerry Adams had first spoken of some two decades previously.

Conclusion As 2004 drew to a close, then, Sinn Féin appeared to have found a particularly successful formula for achieving significant political expansion in the Republic of Ireland. Within this formula, the rolling peace process had become a decisive element, providing the party with a steady stream of good publicity. Not only had this guaranteed Sinn Féin’s representatives a higher media profile than might otherwise have been expected (for what remained a small party), but also it had allowed republicans to strengthen the persuasiveness of their narrative among a broader section of nationalist Ireland. The process had, thus, created a political hinterland for Sinn Féin, which the party could plausibly hope to mobilize in pursuit of its objectives. At the same time, Sinn Féin was evolving rapidly in this period and making itself ever more credible as a mainstream political party. The growing sophistication of its policy agenda, coupled with the respectability it had gained from its role in the peace process (and in the Northern Irish Executive), had ensured that the party could no longer be dismissed as being politically lightweight. On the contrary, it had, not altogether fanciful, designs on establishing itself as the effective opposition in southern Irish politics and entering government there at some point in the not-too-distant future. Even so, Sinn Féin’s developing countenance as a potential ‘party of government’

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continued to be balanced by its self-image as a ‘party of protest’. With regards to the latter, an integral facet of the party’s identity continued to be the notion that it offered something different to the other major political parties in the Republic of Ireland. The success of this Janus-faced political appeal, when operating in the favourable environment created by the peace process, was such that in the 2004 European elections, Sinn Féin captured over 11 per cent of the vote in the Republic of Ireland. This, for a party that only seven years previously had won less than 3 per cent of the national vote, was no mean achievement. In addition, the same electoral contest saw Mary Lou McDonald elected as Sinn Féin’s first MEP in the Republic.148 Simultaneously, Bairbre de Brun won the party’s first ever European seat in Northern Ireland.149 The symbolism of this dual victory, in the only elections to be held concurrently in both jurisdictions, was undoubtedly not lost on the republican leadership; for it appeared to signify the ever-upward trajectory of both Sinn Féin and its political project. Such an analysis was only strengthened further by the results of the 2004 local government elections in the Republic, which saw the party claim the allegiance of over 8 per cent of the southern Irish electorate. Again, a clear advance on what it had achieved at the 1999 local and 2002 general elections. Now, Sinn Féin increased its representation to fifty-four seats (as compared to the twenty-one it had won in 1999), with gains made largely at the expense of Fianna Fáil.150 While this meant the party still remained ‘small’, with its presence confined to certain areas (notably Dublin and the Border Counties), there were nevertheless signs that Sinn Féin was building the foundations upon which it might achieve yet greater success at national level.151 This was particularly so in light of the ability of the party to attract a greater proportion of younger, as opposed to older, voters.152 Such factors, combined with the previously described ‘near misses’ in the 2002 general election, suggested that Sinn Féin could expect to at least double its representation in Leinster House at the next general election, sending its number of TDs into double figures. Indeed, it was not wholly far-fetched at that point to believe that the party could be ‘king-makers’ in the subsequent Irish Parliament. And yet, the electoral results of 2004 proved to be the high watermark of Sinn Féin’s performance in the Irish Republic during this era. That this should have been so was a function of the fact that a series of events coalesced to make 2005, the year earmarked for the party’s one-hundred-year anniversary celebrations, more like its annus horribilis.

6 Reversal, Recovery and Divergence, 2004–7

‘The events of December 2004–March 2005 gave our political opponents a stick to beat Sinn Féin with and they certainly took it. It created a hysteria against the party in the media, which just goes to show that the old dictum that “all publicity is good publicity” isn’t necessarily so.’1 Jim Gibney

Introduction Despite the collapse of peace process negotiations in late 2004, republicans could look forward with confidence to the year ahead. The party’s centenary celebrations had been scheduled to take place in 2005, with a rolling series of events to mark the Céad Blain of Sinn Féin.2 The purpose of such events, as Gerry Adams declared at the official launch of the programme, was to ‘repopularize’ the republican struggle; it was to emphasize the republican ‘century of struggle’ as a way of expanding Sinn Féin’s electoral support base. In light of his party’s recent success, Adams noted, ‘Sinn Féin is now politically and organizationally stronger than at any time since the 1920s.’3 Few could doubt that the Sinn Féin President had a point. Until then, Adams’ party had experienced a decade of uninterrupted, and on occasion spectacular, political growth. This had allowed Sinn Féin to establish itself as unquestionably both the largest party within northern nationalism and, as Gerry Adams cheerfully underlined, ‘the largest pro Agreement party’ of any hue in Northern Ireland.4 At the same time, Sinn Féin had successfully generated a sense of political momentum in the Republic of Ireland, which appeared to point the way towards it holding a significant presence in the Dáil. Thus, the possibility that Sinn Féin might, in the not-too-distant future, enter government on both sides of the Irish border seemed all too real. According to its leader, therefore, the challenge for the party was for it to capitalize on this progress, for Sinn Féin to use its ‘present mandate as a launching pad to grow an island wide, a nation wide mass Sinn Féin movement’.5 157

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In the event, however, such optimistic vistas had to be placed to one side as 2005 became the most challenging year Sinn Féin had faced since the inception of the peace process. Rather than being able to build on past success, the party increasingly found itself subject to sustained criticism. Rather than being able to push forward as Gerry Adams had forecast, republicans instead found themselves ‘on the back foot’. Consequently, much of the period that followed was to be dominated by the efforts of the Adams–McGuinness leadership to restore their party’s position and forwards trajectory. And once again, events in Northern Ireland took centre stage. A succession of crises in the peace process brought the republican movement to a ‘watershed’ moment with regards to the future activity of the IRA. The outcome was a formal end to that organization’s armed campaign and the completion of the weapons decommissioning process. Sinn Féin also subsequently committed itself to supporting the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI). These moves paved the way for Sinn Féin’s return to government, with Martin McGuinness elevated to the position of Deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland – alongside DUP leader, Ian Paisley, who became First Minister – in May 2007.

On the back foot In its 2005 New Year statement, the IRA claimed that the previous month’s talks had failed because of an ‘unachievable demand for humiliation’. The republican movement, it was argued, had once again demonstrated its ‘commitment to the Peace Process’ through the IRA’s offer to move into a ‘new mode’. Yet this was said to have foundered, because the two governments were once more pandering to the ‘rejectionist demands of a unionist leader’.6 The statement thus contained all the familiar elements of the republican movement’s response to the negotiations of the peace process. In equal measure, republican generosity was lauded, even as Unionist intransigence was condemned. Reading the declaration out of context, one would be forgiven for thinking that, at that time, little had changed within the peace process. Yet, the reality was that this was far from the truth. And indeed, the IRA’s January 2005 statement also contained a hint of the crisis that had begun to envelop the republican movement; for it hinted darkly at ‘recent attempts to criminalise our Volunteers’.7 These words constituted an oblique reference to the growing criticism of the republican movement that followed the huge robbery that took place at the Northern Bank’s Belfast headquarters on 20 December 2004. Some £26.5 million had been stolen in the heist, making it the largest bank robbery in British history and the finger of blame was soon pointed at the IRA.8 By early January 2005, the Chief Constable of the PSNI, Hugh Orde, publicly stated his belief that the IRA was behind the crime.9

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Crucially, both the British and Irish governments accepted Orde’s verdict and this served as a springboard for them to adopt a tougher line against republicans. In particular, the Irish Justice Minister, Michael McDowell, came to the fore in this period with his criticism of the IRA. That organization, he claimed in the aftermath of Orde’s statement, had ‘engaged for many, many years in very high-profile criminality’. He rejected the notion that the robbery could have been the work of ‘rogue’ IRA members; the IRA was, he insisted, a ‘unified movement’, with a leadership that included Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness. On this last reasoning, he declared that those two men were ‘not committed to peace’.10 In response, Martin McGuinness vociferously questioned Orde’s assessment of IRA culpability, suggesting that the Chief Constable may well have been manipulated by ‘elements within the British system and unionism intent on wrecking the Peace Process and on using the robbery in Belfast as a pretext for this’.11 It was a line echoed by Sinn Féin’s Chairman, Mitchel McLaughlin, who said Orde had acted under the influence of securocrats who wished to undermine the peace process.12 Elsewhere, Gerry Adams accused the British government as a whole of being intent on returning to a ‘failed policy of discrimination against Sinn Féin’.13 Rather than being cowed by the Sinn Féin stance, though, the view of the governments seemed only to harden. In the middle of January 2005, the Northern Ireland Secretary of State, Paul Murphy, and the Irish Foreign Minister, Dermot Ahern, issued a statement saying they were both 100 per cent convinced that the IRA was responsible for the bank heist.14 Increasingly too, the issue became focused on the broader involvement of republicans in criminality. Michael McDowell again led the way in this regard. Towards the end of January he publicly highlighted a new form of punishment beating allegedly being employed by the IRA: the ‘Padre Pio’ attack that involved the victim being shot through both hands.15 Once more, however, McDowell was joined by his cabinet colleagues. Speaking on Radio RTE, for instance, the Tanaiste (Deputy Prime Minister), Mary Harney, said that there would need to be a complete end to Provisional IRA criminality if the peace process was to move forward.16 Despite Gerry Adams’ protestations, therefore, that ‘the root cause of the difficulties in the Peace Process stems from the unwillingness of antirepublican elements in the South and within the British system to accept Sinn Féin’s electoral mandate across the island’, there was little doubt that ongoing IRA criminality had risen to the top of the political agenda.17 After a meeting between the two prime ministers in early February, both Bertie Ahern and Tony Blair emphasized that it was this issue that was now the principal impediment to progress. As Blair declared, ‘The obstacle now to a lasting and durable settlement in Northern Ireland is the continuing paramilitary activity and criminal activity of the IRA’. Such activity, he insisted, had to ‘stop and stop in its entirety’.18

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The Prime Minister’s words prompted a terse statement from the IRA on 2 February 2005. This announced that the organization was withdrawing the offer it had made the previous December, to complete the decommissioning process and go into a new mode. It was acting, it stated, because republican initiatives had been ‘attacked, devalued and dismissed by pro-unionist and anti-republican elements . . . Commitments have been broken or withdrawn.’ In a context in which ‘there is an ongoing political impasse’, the IRA averred that it would not ‘remain quiescent within this unacceptable and unstable situation’.19 To emphasize this last point, the original lengthy statement was also followed by a far shorter missive, which emphasized ‘the seriousness of the situation’.20 Placed alongside each other, the two pronouncements were widely interpreted as a threat that the IRA’s ceasefire could be in jeopardy, and as such, were condemned in many quarters.21 Moreover, they simply served to bolster the governments’ shared belief that they needed a firm commitment from republicans that all criminality would now end. This belief was strengthened still further when a report from the Independent Monitoring Commission (IMC) also identified the IRA as responsible for the Northern Bank robbery; and, in the wake of that report, the British government announced that it would halt the payment of Westminster parliamentary allowances to Sinn Féin (amounting to some half a million pounds), until republicans verifiably distanced themselves from criminal activities.22 The subsequent exposure of a major cross-border money-laundering operation did little to ease government reservations. Raids by police in Cork and elsewhere in the Irish Republic in mid-February 2005 appeared to uncover tens of thousands of pounds, which were directly linked to both the Northern Bank heist and republicans. Not only did this provide significant new evidence of an IRA link to the original robbery, but also it raised fresh concerns about the scale of that organization’s criminal enterprises. It was against this backdrop of the ongoing fallout from the Northern Bank robbery that republicans were hit by a second crisis. On 30 January 2005, a young man from the Short Strand area of east Belfast, Robert McCartney, was beaten and stabbed to death after an altercation in a city centre pub. Initially, little national media attention was paid to the murder.23 But by the second week in February, the crime had grown in prominence, as suspicions grew that it too had involved IRA members.24 Reports of unrest over the killing within the Short Strand – normally held to be a solidly republican community – raised new questions about the extent to which the governments, in turning a blind eye to ongoing IRA activity, had allowed the organization to establish de facto control over certain localities.25 Furthermore, the savagery of the crime was thrown into stark relief by the dignified response of the dead man’s family, who led a high-profile campaign in pursuit of justice. As a result, the McCartney murder came increasingly to displace the bank robbery as the principal focus for criticism of the republican movement.

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In an effort to counter this, Sinn Féin, having initially ignored the case, attempted to place itself alongside the McCartney family and to foster the impression that it was a partner, rather than an obstacle, in their search for justice. This effort to ‘capture’ and thereby neutralize the McCartney campaign saw the dead man’s sisters and fiancée invited to the Sinn Féin ard fheis in early March 2005. There, Gerry Adams proclaimed ‘we are on their side’ and declared that he was personally ‘committed to justice for the McCartney family’. The Sinn Féin President also said that, ‘Those responsible . . . for the brutal killing of Robert McCartney should admit to what they did in a court of law. Those with any information should come forward.’26 Adams’ words, however, were somewhat overshadowed by an IRA statement two days later, in which the organization offered to shoot four people it believed to be connected with the McCartney murder. This proposition, rejected by the McCartneys, brought renewed condemnation of republicans.27 And although Martin McGuinness, who proclaimed himself ‘surprised’ by the offer, tried to put a positive gloss on the IRA statement (claiming it at least showed that the organization ‘would not cover up for or protect the perpetrators of the murder’), there was little doubt that yet further damage had been done to the republican image.28 The fact that McGuinness himself subsequently warned the McCartney family to ‘be careful’ that they did not cross the line ‘into the world of party politics’ seemed to confirm the impression of a republican movement that had lost its way.29 Taken together, this succession of incidents – the Northern Bank robbery, the exposure of the cross-border money-laundering operation and the Robert McCartney murder – proved to be highly damaging for Sinn Féin. Their combined effect was to give new and unprecedented weight to the charge that republicanism was mired in ‘gangsterism’ and criminality. Sinn Féin spokespeople did little to ease such concerns when pressed for their views on what constituted crime and what did not. Most striking, in this regard, were the words of the party’s chairman, Mitchel McLaughlin. On 17 January 2005, McLaughlin had been interviewed on RTE, where he was asked if he considered the IRA’s 1972 murder of a Belfast mother of ten, Jean McConville, to be a crime. Though he had earlier said the action was wrong, McLaughlin’s response to the specific question of whether he thought it was a crime – ‘No, I do not’ – caused immediate uproar; all the more so, when his sentiments were echoed by other Sinn Féin members.30 Though less immediately sensational, Gerry Adams’ thoughts on this issue – as relayed in his presidential address to his party’s 2005 ard fheis – did little to alleviate concern on this matter. Though this speech did form the context for his above-mentioned statement of support for the McCartney family, the Sinn Féin President also said: There is no place in republicanism for anyone involved in criminality. Our detractors will say we have a particular view of what criminality is. We have

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not. We know what a crime is both in the moral and legal sense, and our view is the same as the majority of people. We know that breaking the law is a crime. But we refuse to criminalise those who break the law in pursuit of legitimate political objectives. [emphasis added]31 Such a definition obviously left open the question of exactly what could be justified ‘in pursuit of legitimate political objectives’. More broadly, the republican movement’s response to the crises of December 2004–March 2005 was initially characterized by stubborn defiance. There was little acknowledgement that there existed a problem that needed to be addressed relating to criminality. As has been described, the IRA’s pronouncements reflected this ethos; so too did the stance of Sinn Féin. In mid-February, the party declared that it was ‘up for the fight’ and announced a series of Democratic Resistance rallies to oppose efforts to criminalize republicans.32 Speaking at one such event, Gerry Adams proclaimed that many of those attacking his party were ‘back in the place where they are most comfortable’. Their motivation for doing so, he asserted, was their fear of Sinn Féin’s electoral expansion: At all costs, they want to stop the growth of Sinn Féin and halt the radical political alternative to the forces of conservatism in Ireland . . . in order to achieve this and to distract attention from all other matters, they are trying once again to smear republicans with the criminalisation slur. Sinn Féin would, according to its president, ‘weather this political storm’ and not succumb to the ‘trial by media’ that it faced.33 Nonetheless, the reality for Sinn Féin was, in the words of Jim Gibney, that the events of December 2004–March 2005, had given our political opponents a stick to beat Sinn Féin with and they certainly took it. It created a hysteria against the party in the media, which just goes to show that the old dictum that ‘all publicity is good publicity’ isn’t necessarily so.34 The Irish Justice Minister, Michael McDowell, thus, took the opportunity to reassert his belief that the leadership of Sinn Féin was intertwined with that of the IRA, alleging again that Gerry Adams, Martin McGuinness and Martin Ferris were all members of the IRA’s Army Council.35 Of course, such accusations had been made against leading republicans in the past and were, themselves, nothing new.36 What was novel in this instance, however, was the impact they made. In the first instance, this impact manifested itself in opinion poll evidence from the time reflecting the fact that McDowell’s allegations and the wider concerns over IRA criminality now gained far more

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purchase among the Irish electorate. One such survey in March 2005, for instance, showed that 67 per cent of people now felt that Sinn Féin should decisively split from the IRA.37 The same poll also revealed that 56 per cent of those questioned viewed Sinn Féin as an unacceptable coalition option for government in the Republic of Ireland – a rise of some 17 percentage points on the previous occasion the question had been asked.38 Finally, an additional survey at this time showed Gerry Adams’ personal satisfaction ratings to have plummeted to 31 per cent (compared to 51 per cent only four months previously).39 While the accuracy of such polls should obviously not be overstated, they do appear to have been indicative of a broad drop in Sinn Féin’s popularity on the back of the criminality controversy. The truth of this appeared to be confirmed by a by-election in County Meath a little over a month after the McCartney murder. There, the party’s candidate, Joe O’Reilly, took some 12 per cent of the vote – a result declared to be a solid and creditable performance by Sinn Féin.40 The reality, though, was that O’Reilly had made almost no improvement on the vote the party had achieved at the European election of a year earlier. This, despite the fact that An Phoblacht/Republican News had previously talked of the likelihood of Sinn Féin wining almost 15 per cent of the vote – a figure that was itself reckoned to be a ‘conservative estimate’.41 What is more, even on the day of the election, senior republicans could still be found stating their expectation that O’Reilly would secure around 15 per cent.42 Set against such a background, the actual result in Meath was undoubtedly something of a disappointment for the party, a fact perhaps reflected in the low-key coverage subsequently accorded to it by An Phoblacht/Republican News.43 In this way, events in Meath offered stark evidence to the effect that Sinn Féin had been damaged by the criminality allegations. While the core vote of the party had held, the dramatic electoral expansion of the previous eight years in the Republic of Ireland appeared to have been halted. On top of this apparent stalling of Sinn Féin’s political project, the party also had to contend with the fact that its leaders were no longer being treated with the same deference and respect they once had been. McDowell’s renewed attack on senior members of the republican leadership has already been noted; as a long-standing opponent and critic of Sinn Féin and the IRA, McDowell’s words were scarcely surprising. Yet, he was now joined in expressing such views by fellow cabinet colleagues. The Irish Defence Minister, Willie O’Dea, for instance, argued that We are no longer prepared to accept the farce that Sinn Féin and the IRA are separate. They are indivisible. The two governments will not indulge in the pretence of treating Sinn Féin and the Provisional IRA as two separate organisations, while trying to inch their way forward towards a comprehensive settlement.44

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Elsewhere, the Taoiseach himself, Bertie Ahern, publicly rebuked Sinn Féin’s leaders, arguing that they had known of plans for the bank robbery, even as they were engaged in talks aimed at achieving a political settlement in Northern Ireland.45 Of equal significance, meanwhile, was the decision of the Bush administration not to invite Sinn Féin (or any other Northern Irish political party) to its annual St Patrick’s Day celebrations at the White House. The McCartney sisters were asked to attend instead. Similarly, Senator Edward Kennedy, previously a regular sponsor of Gerry Adams’ visits to the US during the peace process, also refused to meet the Sinn Féin President – the McCartneys being his preferred guests as well. Where once Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness had been hailed as peacemakers and statesmen they now found criticism being directed at the republican movement, alongside fresh demands that the IRA ‘disband’.46 The events of late 2004–early 2005, then, had made the issue of continued republican paramilitarism an albatross around the neck of Sinn Féin. Ironically, previous governmental indulgence of IRA activity may well have helped bring such a situation about; for the murder of Robert McCartney was not the first to be linked to the IRA in the post-ceasefire years. On the contrary, between 1998 and 2005, some thirty people were killed in incidents in which the IRA was named as chief suspect.47 Despite this, neither government appeared to consider seriously penalizing Sinn Féin during this period. That this should have been so was, to a great extent, a product of the enduring concern as to the possible resumption of a violent republican campaign – whether under the auspices of either the existing IRA or a new splinter group emerging out of that organization. With regards to the possibility that there might be a split within republicanism, recent research has exposed the extent to which the Adams–McGuinness leadership used the spectre of internal republican unrest as a key strategy during negotiations.48 Fear of this outcome, it has been suggested, led the British and Irish governments (as well as the American government at key points) to prioritize the needs of the republican leadership over and above those of Unionists. The former Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Peter Mandelson, has publicly attested as to the reality of this tendency. In a major interview with the Guardian, Mandelson observed that under Tony Blair, government policy on Northern Ireland had reached a point where, ‘the process is the policy’ and there was a fear that ‘if it stops you will roll back into disaster and God alone knows what’.49 To avoid such a scenario, Mandelson acknowledged that the Prime Minister had, on occasion, been guilty of ‘conceding and capitulating’ to Sinn Féin. In the same series of interviews, the former Cabinet Secretary, Lord Butler, also admitted that, ‘There was a lot to be said for paying a price to keep the bicycle moving. The issue is whether Tony Blair paid too big a price.’50 In this respect, therefore, the two governments had arguably failed to recognize both the unlikelihood of renewed republican armed struggle in a context

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defined by the Real IRA’s Omagh bomb and al-Qaeda’s 9/11 attacks – a point of which the republican leadership itself was only too aware.51 In addition, as has been discussed, the governments’ reluctance to punish Sinn Féin may also have stemmed from a desire for a historical ‘legacy’ on the part of both Tony Blair and Bertie Ahern. The drive for such a legacy naturally reduced the motivation of either man to reprimand republicans and thereby risk collapsing the peace process. Ultimately, whatever its origins, the effect of this disinclination to highlight republican infractions was the engendering of a certain level of hubris within the republican movement. The belief that the IRA was to some degree ‘untouchable’ and could act with a degree of impunity helped create the environment in which the Northern Bank robbery and the McCartney murder could occur. These events, though, proved the undoing of republicans, as they provoked a concerted public backlash that caused serious damage to Sinn Féin’s overall political project.

Regaining the initiative It was this backlash that formed the immediate setting for Gerry Adams’ appeal to the IRA on 6 April 2005, for it to ‘fully accept and embrace’ purely peaceful and democratic activity.52 In that address, Adams acknowledged that in the past he had ‘defended the right of the IRA to engage in armed struggle’. Yet he claimed to have done so only because there was ‘no alternative’. That alternative was now said to exist: ‘The way forward is by building political support for republican and democratic objectives across Ireland and by winning support for these goals internationally.’53 As An Phoblacht/Republican News recorded, Adams’ words were aimed at ‘seizing the initiative’ and the IRA soon released a statement saying it would respond to Adams ‘in due course’.54 The clear hope of the republican leadership was that by refocusing attention on the peace process – and the positive part being played in it by republicans – other matters might be sidelined. In line with this, the appeal to the IRA was followed by the reassertion of demands that the governments ‘live up to their commitments under the Good Friday Agreement’.55 Meanwhile, republican spokespeople emphasized the magnitude of what was apparently being discussed by the IRA. As Jim Gibney wrote in the Irish News, ‘Gerry Adams is asking the IRA to unilaterally consider leaving the scene. On the republican Richter scale his speech is mark 10.’56 The wider response to Adams’ speech, however, was more cautious – a fact registered by republicans.57 Various commentators noted that words would have to be followed by actions – a line that echoed the position of the two governments.58 And if doubts had persisted within the republican leadership that this was indeed the case, the results of the local and general elections in Northern Ireland in May 2005 can only have dispelled these. Those results emphasized the damage that had been done to republicans over the previous four–five month period. Thus, while Sinn Féin consolidated its position as the

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largest party within northern nationalism – with five MPs now to the SDLP’s three – the very survival of the latter party was telling. This was particularly so in John Hume’s old constituency of Foyle. There, Sinn Féin had at one time confidently predicted victory for its candidate, Mitchel McLaughlin, over the SDLP leader Mark Durkan. In the event, those expectations went unfulfilled as Durkan secured a resounding victory.59 More generally, the election seemed to confirm that, just as had occurred in the Irish Republic with the Meath by-election, so Sinn Féin’s previously dynamic political growth had also ended in Northern Ireland.60 The Adams–McGuinness leadership’s awareness of this can be gauged from an internal party conference that was held in early 2006. The public message derived from that conference was a ‘positive’ one, in which the leadership urged their supporters to take great ‘heart and encouragement’ out of ‘the achievements of the past’.61 Behind closed doors, however, it would seem that a far more sober appraisal of the party’s position was being made. For example, in his speech to the conference, the party’s director of elections stated: despite the fact it was anticipated that the Adams initiative to the IRA made in advance of the election would help galvanise our vote, this did not happen because of the hostile political climate relating to the bank robbery and the McCartney murder. The initiative’s real potential most definitely was not fully realised and in actual fact the Party’s overall performance dipped in both elections when compared with the European election of 2004.62 It is against this background, therefore, that the events of summer 2005 must be understood. On 28 July, the IRA released a visually recorded statement, via DVD, which announced: The leadership of Óglaigh na hÉireann has formally ordered an end to the armed campaign. This will take effect from 4pm this afternoon. All IRA units have been ordered to dump arms. All Volunteers have been instructed to assist the development of purely political and democratic programmes through exclusively peaceful means. Volunteers must not engage in any other activities whatsoever.63 The language of the statement was emotive and references to the ‘dumping of arms’ carried echoes of earlier incarnations of the IRA, particularly that of 1923; for at the end of the Irish Civil War, the defeated IRA had similarly ordered its members to ‘dump arms’.64 The imagery surrounding the announcement was also significant – particularly the choice of Seanna Walsh as the man to articulate the IRA’s words, after thirty years of anonymous IRA statements that had simply been signed, ‘P. O’Neill’. Walsh was

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a senior ‘behind-the-scenes’ member of the republican leadership, who had previously served twenty-one years in jail for IRA activities. During that time he had not only been a cellmate and friend of Bobby Sands – the doyen of modern republicanism – but also a leading figure within the prison-based IRA leadership in the 1980s.65 The statement was thus framed with the moral authority of the hunger strike era and the IRA prisoner constituency, as well as with the memory of past republican generations. Moreover, on this occasion, words were indeed followed by actions. Just under two months later, on 26 September 2005, the Independent International Commission on Decommissioning (IICD) confirmed that the process of IRA weapons decommissioning had been completed. Speaking to a press conference, the head of the IICD, General John de Chastelain, revealed that, ‘We have observed and verified events to put beyond use very large quantities of arms which we believe include all the arms in the IRA’s possession . . . the arms decommissioned represent the totality of the IRA’s arsenal.’66 As he spoke, two witnesses who had been present during the final round of decommissioning sat alongside de Chastelain and confirmed his words. The men selected for the task were members of the clergy drawn from each side of Northern Ireland’s communal divide: the Redemptorist priest, Fr. Alec Reid; and the Methodist Minister, Rev. Harold Goode. Both gave testimony that, having seen what had happened, with their ‘own eyes, on a minute-tominute basis’, they were able to confirm that ‘beyond any shadow of doubt, the arms of the IRA have now been decommissioned’.67 Through these striking gestures, then, the Adams–McGuinness leadership clearly hoped to draw a line under the events of the first half of 2005. With the IRA now removed ‘as an excuse’ (to paraphrase the earlier words of Gerry Adams), the aim was to restore momentum both to the peace process and to the political expansion of Sinn Féin.68 On this basis, the statement formally ending the IRA’s armed struggle was followed by calls for renewed progress politically. Once more, familiar rhetorical themes were deployed in support of such appeals. The IRA initiative was said to be merely the latest example of ‘11 years of IRA support for [the peace] process’.69 Martin McGuinness spoke of the ‘inescapable responsibility on the British and Irish governments to push urgently ahead with the implementation of the Agreement’, while the ‘leadership of unionism’ was pressed to ‘finally accept the principles of power sharing, equality and human rights’.70 By the same token, within days of the decommissioning announcement, Gerry Adams was insisting that the governments ‘move speedily’ to fulfil their commitments and inject ‘momentum’ into the political process.71 In this regard, the republican leadership must have been encouraged by initial governmental reaction. Both Tony Blair and Bertie Ahern warmly welcomed the July statement: Blair describing it as ‘a step of unparalleled magnitude in the recent history of Northern Ireland’, Ahern as an ‘unprecedented’ step that opened the way to a ‘new era for all of the people of the

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island of Ireland’.72 Similar language followed the events of September.73 And the overall impression conveyed was that, as far as the governments were concerned, republicans had met their obligations. Such a perception was strengthened by the British government’s announcement that it would implement the demilitarization plans contained within the 2003 Joint Declaration of the British and Irish governments – a long-standing demand of republicans.74 Also, in early October 2005, following a positive report on the IRA’s intentions from the IMC, the British indicated that they would take steps to restore Sinn Féin’s expenses allowances (after these had been removed following the Northern Bank robbery).75 More broadly, the governments appeared to signal that they believed the way was open to the restoration of the devolved institutions for Northern Ireland. Peter Hain thus announced that the ‘period of political paralysis’ in Northern Ireland had to end and ‘sooner rather than later’.76 Bertie Ahern made the same point when he told the Dáil that, while there were, ‘those who remain unconvinced about recent developments’, this was ‘not a time for pessimism and undue delay’.77 The governments’ optimism, however, was not shared by Unionist politicians. Both the DUP and the UUP reacted with anger to the unfolding of events. Ian Paisley, for instance, lambasted the ‘dishonest and dangerous approach of the [British] government’, which was said to have concluded a ‘bilateral agreement’ with republicans.78 This interpretation, which was shared by Unionists of various hues, had only been strengthened by the ‘re-release’ from jail of a republican prisoner, Sean Kelly, the day before the IRA’s July announcement. Kelly, the man responsible for the Shankill bombing of October 1993, had originally been released from prison on licence, under the provisions of the Good Friday Agreement. However, he had been re-arrested in June 2005 for allegedly becoming re-involved in terrorism.79 That decision had been bitterly criticized by Sinn Féin and the party had launched a campaign for his release.80 When this release duly came – immediately prior to the IRA’s July statement – Unionists denounced the move as a ‘capitulation’ and a sign that the government was, as they feared, once more ‘grovelling to republicans’.81 The government’s decision to push ahead with ‘demilitarization’ was seen in similar light. Recognition of this Unionist disquiet did not escape Sinn Féin’s attention; rather, it was again used as part of the rationalization for republican actions. An Phoblacht-Republican News thus described how A week ago the DUP had been confident in its relationship with the British Government. Republicans had endured months of vilification by the British at the behest of rejectionist unionism. But last Thursday the political landscape had been changed and changed utterly by the courageous unilateral decision of the IRA to end its armed campaign and dump its arms. Suddenly the old sureties no longer seemed so secure.82

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The extent to which what had occurred constituted a political triumph for republicans was clearly flagged up. On the issue of ‘demilitarization’, for example, the paper stated that ‘Apparently no one told the DUP . . . suddenly the British Government was neither seeking their opinion nor eliciting their support’. The result of this was said to be that the DUP – which had pledged to end ‘pushover unionism’ – had been left to represent ‘leftover unionism’.83 As an articulation of republican strategic thinking in relation to the peace process – and the central dynamic that Sinn Féin had hoped to generate through its engagement with that process – the article was particularly striking. Once more, the IRA had delivered progress and republicans seemed to have secured some form of recompense in return. At the same time, the IRA’s act of completion had failed to engender real Unionist confidence in the peace process – even as it had been hailed by the two governments. The same phenomenon was in evidence following the September 2005 decommissioning announcement. On that occasion, DUP leader Ian Paisley attacked the ‘duplicity and dishonesty of the two governments and the IRA’; while elsewhere, the UUP leader, Sir Reg Empey, spoke in less sensational, but sincere terms to observe that, ‘this development has failed to maximise public confidence’.84 The truth of Empey’s words lay in the fact that republicans had again acted with an apparent lack of concern for the needs of Unionism. The IRA had side-stepped DUP demands that there be visual proof of decommissioning – the ‘kodak moment’ – that would leave no one in any doubt as to what occurred. There were to be no videos or photos of weapons being destroyed. Equally, suggestions that the IICD release a detailed inventory of the arms involved were firmly rebuffed by republicans. Moreover, the choice of the men who acted as witnesses to the final act of decommissioning was itself not made with a view to securing the maximum possible level of Unionist trust. This was particularly the case where Fr. Alec Reid was concerned. It was widely known that the priest had been a close confidante of Gerry Adams and, as has been described, helped facilitate back-channel contacts between Sinn Féin and the Irish government during the 1980s.85 In addition, Reid had gone on record to state that he believed the IRA’s denials of its involvement in the Northern Bank robbery – on the grounds that the organization ‘always told the truth’.86 Such a history was unlikely to commend Reid to the Unionist community as a reliable witness. This was compounded by the fact that, several months later, he publicly likened the period of Unionist dominance in Northern Ireland to Nazi rule over Germany.87 Even leaving aside such indiscretions from Reid, the fact was that the decommissioning observers had been chosen by the IRA – rather than Unionists. More broadly, republicans had, to all intents and purposes, ‘turned the clock back’ to November–December 2004. During the talks of that period, the proposals put forward by the republican negotiators had provided for decommissioning, to be overseen by two independent witnesses.88 It was this

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suggestion that the DUP had rejected as inimical to the building of Unionist confidence; a rejection that paved the way for the talks’ collapse, as Paisley continued to insist that the weapons process be filmed or photographed. Now, in September 2005, republicans had conducted the process according to their own original template – and done so to general acclaim. Indeed, in many ways, it was as if the events of the intervening nine months had not occurred. In the process, the Adams–McGuinness leadership effectively circumnavigated Unionism and consigned the DUP, and Unionist anxieties more generally, to a position of secondary importance. In response, the only sanction available to the DUP and Unionism – other than an abandonment of the political process altogether – was delay. Unable to alter the overall political trajectory, the DUP could at least determine how much momentum existed within the peace process. And given the party’s repeated public demands for a de facto ‘decontamination’ period – to assess republican bona fides – the effect of this was to make progress glacial postdecommissioning. Consequently, there was little movement from the DUP prior to the end of 2005 and various indications that no deal to restore the Agreement’s institutions would be forthcoming in 2006 either. Certainly this was the conclusion of one informed observer in late December 2005.89 As far as the republican leadership was concerned, however, this was simply a necessary trade-off from the decision to adopt a unilateral approach to the arms issue. Nor was it entirely unwelcome. On the contrary, some period of deferral suited the Adams–McGuinness leadership, for whom a key concern, as ever, was the position of Sinn Féin south of the Irish border. There, an Irish general election was scheduled to be held by 2007 at the latest and the republican leadership was more than happy to postpone any new push for a Northern Irish settlement to as close to that election as possible. Not only did this create the possibility that Sinn Féin would benefit from heightened levels of positive publicity immediately prior to such a poll, but also it afforded the party the opportunity to banish the memories of early 2005. As the March 2005 by-election in Meath had demonstrated, the stream of negative coverage surrounding republicans had manifestly damaged Sinn Féin. The party now had the chance to reassert familiar arguments about the nature of the peace process and Sinn Féin’s role within it. Republicans could once more be cast as peacemakers and the process used to re-acquire the movement’s lost respectability – in a reprise of the dynamic that had served Sinn Féin well from the early 1990s down to 2004. The party was therefore soon calling on the governments to ‘face down’ the DUP in order to end ‘the current political impasse’.90 The DUP was said to be seeking to ‘subvert the Agreement’, while efforts to restore the devolved institutions were said to be floundering ‘on the rock of negative, rejectionist unionism’.91 Once again now, too, Sinn Féin positioned itself as the only guarantor of the Good Friday Agreement. Only republicans, it was

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claimed, stood fully behind the Agreement as a whole. The party was thus critical of the ‘shadow assembly’ that emerged in May 2006. As the front page of An Phoblacht-Republican News announced, this was viewed by the Adams–McGuinness leadership as little more than a ‘powerless talking shop’.92 And though it did not boycott the assembly outright, Sinn Féin did refuse to engage in any business not directly concerned with setting up a new Executive. At the same time, it sternly criticized the SDLP’s decision to participate in full, declaring that the party was providing a, ‘comfort blanket for the DUP’.93 Calls from the party for the British government to ‘end this farce’ encapsulated Sinn Féin’s attitude.94 Nothing less than the full implementation of the Agreement was to be deemed acceptable, which meant getting a ‘fully functioning Assembly and Executive put in place’, as opposed to a ‘talking shop Assembly with no real power’ – which was said to be the DUP’s aim.95 Indeed, the DUP was portrayed as the ultimate obstacle to political progress – an obstacle that the two governments were refusing to tackle. ‘Time to put it up to Paisley’ declared the front-page headline of the party’s newspaper in September 2006, while an article inside noted: ‘the DUP appears intent on breaching the deadline and avoiding taking the political decisions necessary to see the return of power-sharing government in the North . . . DUP intransigence seems set to continue’.96 While attacking the DUP at a political level, Sinn Féin was also quick to tie it to sectarian violence at the local level. In March 2006, for instance, a piece in An Phoblacht/Republican News, following a sectarian attack in Belfast, proclaimed, ‘Murder attempt: DUP contributing to loyalist violence’. The author of the article asserted that the, ‘political vacuum has now been filled by unionist paramilitary violence’ and made a direct connection between the attack and the DUP’s ‘continuing failure to engage’.97 Similarly, in May 2006 after the murder of a fifteen-year-old boy, Michael McIlveen, in Ballymena, the front page of the party’s newspaper declared: ‘Sectarian murder in DUP heartland.’ The accompanying analysis stated that, ‘The citadel of sectarianism that is Ballymena is the political heartland of the DUP and that party and its leader have been closely associated with virulent sectarianism in the area for decades’, while, Sinn Féin’s representative for the area, Philip McGuigan, noted that Paisley had effectively helped ‘provide justification’ for the murder.98 Alongside the disparagement of the DUP, Sinn Féin was also anxious to build up its own credentials as a party of peacemakers. Again here, the party’s foreign policy proved to be a useful instrument, allowing Sinn Féin representatives to portray themselves as peaceable statesmen on the world stage. 2006 therefore brought a renewed drive to establish republicans as the foremost exponents of international ‘peace processing’. In March of that year, there were reports of Sinn Féin involvement in the decision of the Basque group, ETA, to announce a ‘permanent’ ceasefire.99 Certainly, the move was warmly welcomed by Gerry Adams and in June 2006 he visited the Basque

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country – a move reported by An Phoblacht/Republican News as ‘Adams in push for Basque peace’.100 The Sinn Féin President was quick to emphasize the alleged ‘lessons’ of the Northern Ireland experience, stating: ‘The ETA cessation creates an unprecedented opportunity for a lasting and democratic resolution to a conflict that has affected the region for decades . . . there should be no delay in the commencement of all party talks in the Basque Country.’101 The same language was evident when the Sinn Féin President visited Palestine later the same year, with the front-page headline of An Phoblacht/Republican News declaring ‘Adams in Middle East Peace Mission’.102 Again, Adams’ message to those he met when in Palestine was a familiar one: We are always willing to learn and to share our experience with others seeking to build peaceful alternatives to conflict . . . In the Irish Peace Process the US played a positive and encouraging role, recognising all of the democratic mandates of the participants, supporting dialogue, and dealing with everyone on the basis of equality. I would strongly urge a similar approach in respect of any efforts to rebuild the peace process here. What is clearly required is a comprehensive and inclusive settlement.103 In a trip that also saw the Sinn Féin President lay a wreath at the grave of Yasser Arafat, Adams appealed ‘to all political leaders to make a fresh effort to rebuild the peace process’. In this context he met with various delegations, including one from Hamas, and claimed to have delivered the following advice: ‘dialogue is the only way forward, all violence should end, all democratic mandates should be respected’.104 Adams was not alone in engaging in such international expeditions. Martin McGuinness, too, worked to impart the benefits of the Northern Irish experience. In both January and July 2006, McGuinness went to Sri Lanka to advise those involved in the conflict there on how they might move forward.105 In words that carried strong echoes of Adams, he stated on the latter occasion that ‘Our message was simple and direct. Just as in Ireland, a military victory was not achievable by either side in Sri Lanka and a political process, based on equality, inclusion and respect was the only alterative to perpetual conflict and suffering.’106 The combination of these foreign policy excursions, together with renewed republican commitment to the peace process at home, did much to restore Sinn Féin’s reputation. Already, by late 2005, the British and Irish governments were prepared to countenance the return of a devolved administration in Northern Ireland in which Sinn Féin would play a leading role. Unsurprisingly, therefore, 2006 brought renewed efforts to achieve such a settlement. To this end, talks were held during February and March of that year in an effort to create some forward movement.107 Yet, as has been described, proposals to ‘kick-start’ the process with the creation of a ‘shadow assembly’ in Northern Ireland, prior to the return of the full institutions, were derailed by

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Sinn Féin opposition.108 The party was vehement in its insistence that there could be no ‘two-tier’ approach to the Agreement; and that the Agreement had to be implemented in full.109 After a brief hiatus (and in spite of the Donaldson murder), the two governments returned in early April 2006 with a blueprint for restoring devolution in Northern Ireland, in what was described as one final effort to achieve a settlement. Under the proposals, the Assembly was to be recalled in May 2006, with talks effectively running from that moment through to November the same year. At that point, in the typically effusive words of Tony Blair, ‘we close the chapter or close the book’.110 Failure to reach an accord, it was said, would lead to the salaries of Assembly members being stopped, while the British and Irish governments would work together to implement the Agreement through ‘British–Irish partnership arrangements’.111

St Andrews and the final lap: triumph and despair Sinn Féin was quick to signal its approval of the governments’ April 2006 proposals and Gerry Adams made an ‘appeal to unionism to seize this opportunity’.112 By contrast, as might have been expected, the reaction of the DUP was less than enthusiastic. Ian Paisley declared, ‘there is no evidence that Sinn Féin/IRA will be any further advanced in giving up criminality in November’ and, consequently, ‘there will be no executive formed for the foreseeable future’.113 Paisley had had his reluctance to conclude a settlement strengthened by enduring concerns about IRA activity over the previous six months. In October 2005, a series of high-profile police raids in Manchester, England, had brought sensational headlines and fresh anxieties over the possible existence of an IRA ‘property empire’.114 Similarly, in January 2006, another major police investigation, this time by Gardai in the Irish Republic, had uncovered an additional real estate portfolio – this time centred on the Greater Dublin area – that was alleged to be in republican hands.115 And a little over a month later, a further massive security operation by police forces on both sides of the Irish border targeted the man widely reckoned to be the IRA’s chief of staff in raids that were reported to have recovered over a200,000 in cash.116 Of equal significance, a report from the IMC at the end of January 2006 had described how the IRA continued to engage in a range of activities, including intelligence gathering and criminality.117 In response, Sinn Féin had called for the disbandment of the IMC, which Martin McGuinness labelled a ‘proxy for political policing’.118 Yet, there was no doubt that the IMC’s assessment did cast a pall over republican efforts to improve their image and gave a further boost to DUP obduracy. Ian Paisley thus declared that the IMC’s report showed how little progress republicans had made and – picking up on the IMC’s estimation that some weapons had been retained by the IRA – the DUP leader called for the re-opening of the decommissioning issue.119

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In light of such rhetoric, few commentators judged any deal involving the DUP and Sinn Féin to be possible. By the autumn of 2006, however, the two governments did appear to have secured a concrete timetable for the restoration of the devolved institutions. After three days of intensive talks at St Andrews in Scotland, a new Agreement was unveiled. This provided for the nomination of a new First Minister and Deputy Minister of Northern Ireland on 24 November 2006, with the moment of actual devolution pushed back to 26 March 2007.120 At the heart of this new St Andrews Agreement was a new focus on the question of whether Sinn Féin would support the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI). Against the background of the previous two years’ focus on the IRA’s involvement in criminality, this now emerged as the key litmus test of republican intentions. The governments’ efforts to reach an accord at St Andrews had been made easier by new security reports suggesting that the IRA was adhering to its commitments. In October 2006, for instance, the IMC had reported that the IRA had changed radically, dismantled some of its most important structures and no longer wished to return to violence.121 Nevertheless, it was clear that this alone was not enough to satisfy the needs of the DUP and Unionism more generally. Instead, a republican commitment to support the PSNI had become the sine qua non of any future settlement. For this reason, the St Andrews Agreement looked to ‘essential elements of support for law and order’, which all the parties to that Agreement had to endorse, if devolved institutions of government were to return to Northern Ireland. These elements included: endorsing fully the Police Service of Northern Ireland and the criminal justice system, actively encouraging everyone in the community to co-operate fully with the PSNI, tackling crime in all areas and actively supporting all the policing and criminal justice institutions, including the Policing Board.122 This marked a significant shift in position when compared with previous negotiations involving Sinn Féin and both the UUP and the DUP, in 2003 and 2004 respectively. In each of those instances, the policing issue had effectively been bypassed – at least in a direct sense. Eventual republican support for the PSNI had been envisaged, but in neither case was this held to be a precondition for Sinn Féin’s entry into government.123 As a result, it is certainly plausible that the republican leadership may have believed it possible to delay the moment at which Sinn Féin would give its support to the police indefinitely; just as it may once have believed that the party could enter and remain in government in Northern Ireland without any IRA weapons decommissioning.124 Obviously such a suggestion remains speculative, though it is certainly not inconceivable. And at the very least, what can be said is that before St Andrews Sinn Féin had held to a position that there

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could be no question of republicans giving their backing to the PSNI, in the absence of devolved institutions. Though the party’s policy on policing in Northern Ireland had evolved over the previous few years, this had become established as the party’s bottom line on the issue. As a motion passed at Sinn Féin’s 2006 ard fheis stated, only ‘in the event of a transfer of policing powers to a democratically elected institution in the North’, would the Sinn Féin President propose the calling of, ‘a special Ard Fheis so that the membership could discuss and vote, “to decide Sinn Féin’s position on new policing arrangements”’.125 The envisaged sequence was one that would see the devolution of policing and justice powers first, to be followed by Sinn Féin endorsement of the PSNI – not vice versa. As late as September 2006, less than a month prior to the St Andrews accord, the party’s spokesperson on policing, Gerry Kelly, continued to assert the importance of that chronological progression. In an interview with the Belfast Telegraph he maintained that ‘a decision by Sinn Féin to participate in policing could come within weeks of a timeframe being agreed for the transfer of powers to democratic political institutions’.126 While Kelly’s words were portrayed as a concession – in that they apparently offered rapid movement from republicans – the fact was that the anticipated order of events remained the same.127 In advance of the St Andrews negotiations, however, the two governments had given signal that this was no longer an option for Sinn Féin. The IRA’s 2004–5 transgressions had ensured that any return of devolved government to Northern Ireland with Sinn Féin involvement was now made conditional on prior republican endorsement of the PSNI. Interestingly, this new position was one that the US government had perhaps been quicker to articulate than its British and Irish counterparts. And financial pressure had been placed on Sinn Féin with regards to its American support base. In the wake of the McCartney murder in early 2005, republican fund-raising visas to the US had been suspended; their restoration was effectively made dependent on Sinn Féin giving its support to the police.128 Alongside this, the Bush administration’s Special Envoy to Northern Ireland during this period, Mitchell Reiss, explicitly called on republicans to give their backing to the police. As far back as March 2004, Reiss had been openly critical of Sinn Féin for purveying what he labelled ‘massive untruths’ about the Northern Irish police and called on the party to ‘reconsider’ its position.129 In similar vein, in late 2005, the US Special Envoy had written that, ‘Sinn Féin has a responsibility to tell its constituents they should co-operate with the police – without fear of retribution.’130 On that latter occasion, Reiss’s comments brought a sharp rebuke from Gerry Adams, who described them as ‘untrue and offensive’. The American had, according to Adams, acted in ‘an unhelpful and partisan manner’.131 The war of words between the two men was rejoined in the middle of 2006, after Reiss had again insisted, during a US Congressional hearing, that a central cause of the ‘impasse’ in the peace process was the republican refusal to endorse the PSNI.132 This was followed by a de facto

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public row between Reiss and Adams that occurred mainly through the pages of the Irish Times. In May 2006, the Sinn Féin President used an interview in that newspaper with the journalist, Frank Millar, to suggest that people should ‘not heed what Mitchell Reiss has said’ on the grounds that ‘Mitchell Reiss will not be sorting these matters out’.133 A month later, Reiss retorted via the same medium that, while Adams was technically correct, he and the US government did have ‘a fair amount of influence’ and it was up to them how they decided to ‘use and leverage that influence’.134 Going on to summarize his position on policing, Reiss then declared, in what amounted to an unmistakable rebuke of Adams, ‘this really isn’t about fundraising at all. It’s all about giving the decent, law-abiding people in republican and nationalist communities the type of police service they deserve . . . It’s about policing, it’s about normality.’135 One reading of the St Andrews negotiations, therefore, would be that they saw the British and Irish governments adopt a stance akin to that of the Americans – perhaps in recognition of the fact that formal republican endorsement of the police stood as the DUP’s central precondition for entry into government with Sinn Féin. As that party’s deputy leader, Peter Robinson, stated, ‘Before devolution can be restored, republicans must deliver an end to all paramilitary and criminal activity and signal, in both word and deed, support for the rule of law.’136 Faced with a new consensus on this matter, encompassing all three governments and the principal representatives of Unionism, Sinn Féin was forced to shift position. It is possible that, immediately prior to the St Andrews talks, the republican leadership had realized that such a move would be required. On the eve of those talks, Gerry Adams gave a major speech in Belfast in which he appeared to signal a softening of his party’s line. During the course of that address, he had declared: Republicans are for policing. Republicans are for the rule of law . . . Our support for policing and law and order is not a response to unionist demands. Neither is it a tradable commodity to be retained or given away as part of a deal . . . Sinn Féin wants acceptable civic policing, which is democratically accountable and free from partisan political control.137 Though much of the language was familiar, there was no reference to the transfer of policing and justice powers. As St Andrews approached that demand appeared to have slipped off Sinn Féin’s agenda. In this way, Adams’ speech gave indication to the republican grassroots that the party might at last have to confront the policing issue head on. The outcome of St Andrews guaranteed that this would indeed be the case. Even now, however, republican delivery proved halting. On 19 October 2006, the party announced that it would begin a consultation process lasting several weeks with its members over the St Andrews proposals.138 Such a process was said to be a necessary preliminary step to

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the calling of a ‘special ard fheis’, at which the party might endorse the PSNI – as required by the Agreement. An obvious corollary of this, though, was that it immediately cast doubt over the timetable laid out by the two governments. Thus, by early November, even though Sinn Féin’s national executive was willing to confirm its support for the St Andrews Agreement, as a package, no arrangements had been made to hold the necessary party conference.139 In seeking to explain Sinn Féin’s apparently unhurried exertions on the policing issue, it should be noted that the party was faced with a sustained republican critique of its actions. Groups of dissidents operating under the banner of ‘Concerned Republicans’ came together at this time to hold public meetings around the notion of ‘Policing – A bridge too far?’ One such event was held at Conway Mill in west Belfast, another in the village of Toome in Antrim – and it was subsequently reported that both drew sizeable crowds.140 At these gatherings, the position adopted by critics of Sinn Féin was one based on traditional republican logic. This held that support for any police force within Northern Ireland was unacceptable. Endorsement of the police was seen as the ultimate acknowledgement of the British state’s right to exert a monopoly of legitimate force within the province – to finally accept the right of Northern Ireland to exist – and something to be rejected at all costs.141 For this reason, the hesitancy of the Adams–McGuinness leadership to finally commit Sinn Féin to support the PSNI, could have been a function of their concern about republican disquiet over such a move. At the same time, however, there were grounds to suggest that such disquiet was more imagined than real – at least within the mainstream republican movement. Accordingly, opponents of the party’s stance on policing tended to come from the varied ranks of dissident republicans. By contrast, there was little sign that the leadership would face serious internal opposition to a new policy of support for the police. The truth of this was made manifest by what actually happened when the long-awaited ‘special ard fheis’ on policing was held in January 2007. There, the motion put forward by the Adams–McGuinness leadership received over 90 per cent support; a result that made a mockery of suggestions that the republican movement had suffered major divisions over the move.142 It may be, therefore, that Sinn Féin’s slow progress on the policing question was the product of other motives. In particular, it could be that the party sought to test the governments’ collective resolve one final time – and to test whether the DUP might yet be pressured into forsaking its principal precondition on sharing power with Sinn Féin. If this was indeed the aim, then it ultimately proved to be unsuccessful. True, the deadline was, to all intents and purposes, allowed to lapse by the two governments. The St Andrews Agreement had required the DUP and Sinn Féin to nominate representatives to the Northern Irish Executive by 24 November 2006; Peter Hain had subsequently modified this so that the parties needed only to ‘indicate’ that they

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would complete nominations in the future.143 In neither respect were these conditions met. Yet, in spite of this, Peter Hain declared that new Assembly elections would go ahead – as laid out in the St Andrews proposals.144 Nevertheless, while the governments had shifted position once again, it was clear that Ian Paisley had not. In this final game of brinkmanship, the DUP leader had proven inflexible and it was only the British government’s willingness to improvise that had allowed the process to continue. The republican leadership perhaps now realized that such improvisation could not easily be repeated – and a failure by Sinn Féin to deliver on policing would not only prevent the institutions being re-established, but would ensure that republicans were seen as the party in default (an outcome that was deemed likely to impair the party’s electoral prospects south of the border). As a result, the necessary arrangements were put in place and, on 28 January 2007, Sinn Féin’s membership voted overwhelmingly to endorse the party leadership’s (supportive) position on the PSNI. Sinn Féin’s commitment to back the police confirmed that new Assembly elections would be held in Northern Ireland. Going into that contest, there was some speculation that the party might now be challenged by an avowedly republican alternative. As already described, such an alternative had begun to coalesce over the policing question and there was some expectation this could gain the support of disaffected republican voters. In addition, many commentators supposed that the SDLP might build on the surprising electoral resilience that it had demonstrated in 2005. This possibility seemed all the more plausible in light of the clear opportunities for the party to attack their republican counterparts. These included the seemingly inconsistent position adopted by Sinn Féin in relation to proposed legislation dealing with ‘on the run’ paramilitaries in late 2005. There was also the suggestion that Sinn Féin had actually acceded to increased MI5 involvement in Northern Ireland, by dint of their acceptance of the St Andrews Agreement.145 As it turned out, however, the March 2007 election brought no such SDLP revival and the expected challenge from the republican dissidents failed to materialise. Instead, Sinn Féin appeared to regain the political momentum it had lost over the previous two years. The party secured its best ever result in a Northern Ireland election, winning twenty-eight seats (and securing 26 per cent of the overall vote), as compared to the SDLP’s sixteen seats (and 15 per cent share of the vote).146 This result was mirrored on the Unionist side of the communal divide, where the DUP consolidated its hegemony over the UUP.147 And it was this, in turn, that paved the way for the public accord between Sinn Féin and the DUP that was announced on 26 March 2007, under which the two parties agreed to share power. The final act came on 8 May 2007, when the institutions created by the Good Friday Agreement were finally restored in full, with Sinn Féin’s Martin McGuinness now installed as Deputy First Minister, alongside the DUP leader, Ian Paisley, as Northern Ireland’s new First Minister.

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Conclusion In the wake of its northern successes, Sinn Féin looked with confidence to matters south of the Irish border, where an Irish general election was also due for 2007. With a view to its performance in that contest, Sinn Féin had, over the previous two years, continued to present a recognizable set of messages to the southern Irish electorate. These had been neatly summed up in a ‘key planning meeting’ that the party held in September 2006, in which it identified the three key issues that it wished to focus on: the crisis that was said to exist in Irish health-care provision; the peace process and the drive for Irish unity; and Sinn Féin’s policies for building an Irish economy that was simultaneously strong and more equal.148 As regards the first of these, it is clear that much republican attention had been focused on health issues. In April 2006, the party had launched an extensive new policy document on this theme and in May of the same year, a ‘Health for all – National day of action’ had been declared.149 The essence of Sinn Féin’s position was its total opposition to ‘the grossly unequal, twotier system’ that was said to be favoured by the Irish government.150 Once more, the party was determined to portray itself as the upholder of the rights of ordinary Irish people against a failing political establishment. Moreover, that establishment was again held to be fundamentally corrupt, as Sinn Féin continued to cast itself as different – a fresh challenge to the supposedly tired mainstream parties of Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael. Indeed, its efforts in this latter regard themselves caused a political storm, as suggestions emerged that republicans were trying to ‘create’ scandal and corruption around their rivals where none had previously existed. Thus, the formation of the Centre for Public Inquiry (CPI) in 2005, proved highly controversial. Under the control of Frank Connolly (brother of Niall, one of the republican ‘Columbia Three’), the CPI was officially modelled on the American Centre for Public Integrity, which sought to promote transparency and tackle corruption in public affairs. Not only was Judge Feargus Flood (previously of the Flood tribunal) recruited as CPI chairman, but the organization also secured a four-year funding contract of $4 million from Atlantic Philanthropies, the company of prominent Irish-American, Bill ‘Chuck’ Feeney.151 Despite its apparently altruistic motives, accusations were soon levelled that the CPI was working to a political agenda closely related to that of Sinn Féin. Its opponents noted, for instance, that its reports seemed to be targeted towards those areas where Sinn Féin stood to gain electorally.152 Viewed from this perspective, the CPI appeared to be a sophisticated attempt to discredit the political opponents of Sinn Féin; all the more so, given the direct links between Frank Connolly and the republican movement. In the end, it was these links that proved fatal to the organization. The allegation that Connolly had himself travelled to Columbia on a false passport, with a known IRA leader in 2001, led Feeney to withdraw his funding and the

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CPI to collapse shortly after.153 Ultimately, it should be emphasized, the existence of a direct relationship between the CPI and Sinn Féin remains unproven. Nevertheless, what can be said with certainty is that the activities of the former organization did correspond to the anti-corruption message being propagated by the latter in this period. Furthermore, this was a message that Sinn Féin felt was vital to its rising political appeal in the south of Ireland. Alongside this message, as the September 2006 meeting had identified, Sinn Féin continued to emphasize its ‘nationalist’ credentials in the context of an ongoing peace process. The year 2006 brought the ninetieth anniversary of the Easter Rising and the party had, unsurprisingly, planned major commemorative events. Their efforts to capture this terrain and use it as an electoral springboard, however, suffered a setback when it was announced that the Irish government would itself host an official ceremony to commemorate the Rising. In response, Sinn Féin still held its own rallies and accused both the Fianna Fáil-led government and Fine Gael of ‘avoiding the political message of the Rising and the Proclamation and its relevance for today’.154 But the fact was that the Sinn Féin rallies were dwarfed by the governmentapproved gatherings – so while in Sinn Féin’s estimation some 1,500 people attended its 1916 commemoration in Dublin, this was as nothing compared to the 100,000 who turned out for the military parade by the Irish Defence Forces.155 Thus, the efforts of Sinn Féin to take possession of the narrative of 1916 and use it to boost its own political prospects met with only limited success. By comparison, Sinn Féin was far less susceptible to challenge over its hold on the historical legacy from the 1981 hunger strike. The year 2006 also marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of that episode and, as might have been expected, Sinn Féin was anxious to highlight the occasion; for as Jim Gibney put it, ‘The dead hunger strikers are our generation’s 1916.’156 For this reason, An Phoblacht/Republican News carried sustained coverage of the anniversary throughout the year, with a long-running ‘Remembering 1981’ series. This included, among other things, reminiscences from former prisoners and Sinn Féin members, such as Bik McFarlane and Sean Crowe, as well as interviews with surviving family members of the dead hunger strikers.157 Meanwhile, a variety of events, many of them at local level, were organized by Sinn Féin to celebrate the quarter-century that had passed since the hunger strike.158 These were allied to larger set-piece affairs, such as the major rally that was held in Belfast in August 2006.159 During his address to that rally, Gerry Adams proclaimed that he was looking forward to ‘freedom in our lifetime’ and said republicans needed ‘to continue to build a mass organization, to stay united and to continue to be strategic’. Sinn Féin was, he declared, ‘in a transitional phase of struggle on the road to a national republic’. The next step on that road, in the minds of the Adams–McGuinness leadership, was meant to be a major political advance in the Irish Republic.

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With the date for the general election finally set for June 2007, Sinn Féin looked eagerly towards the poll. Party representatives spoke of their expectation that Sinn Féin would be the ‘story of the election’.160 Martin McGuinness had previously spoken of the ‘realistic expectation’ that Sinn Féin would ‘dramatically increase its representation’; and McGuinness even acknowledged the speculation that Sinn Féin might be ‘king-makers’ in the Dáil, stating that ‘Sinn Féin could be in a position to decide the formation of the next government.’161 Such confidence, however, was to prove ill judged. Despite the boost of the recently completed deal with the DUP, Sinn Féin did not experience the political leap forward that it had sought. Most commentators had predicted that Sinn Féin would gain seats in several constituencies, taking its total number held into double figures. There was even talk that if the party had a ‘good day’ it might secure upwards of fifteen seats. In the event, Sinn Féin actually saw its presence in Leinster House reduced – from five TDs to four. It failed to take any of its target seats, the most prominent of which was Mary Lou McDonald’s effort to get elected in Dublin. In the wake of her success at the 2004 European elections, McDonald had been brought in as Sinn Féin’s candidate for Dublin Central, in place of the veteran republican activist Nicky Kehoe. In 2002, Kehoe had himself come very close to gaining a seat, only missing out by a few hundred votes. There was thus an expectation that McDonald would succeed where he had fallen short.162 As it was, the Sinn Féin vote in Dublin Central fell back by almost 2,000 votes and McDonald was comprehensively defeated.163 It was a familiar picture across the country for Sinn Féin and, in Dublin South-West, Sean Crowe lost the seat that he had won five years earlier. In the aftermath of the election there was widespread discussion of the reasons behind Sinn Féin’s failure – not least among republicans themselves. The argument of the republican leadership was that the party had been squeezed by voters returning to the two largest parties, Fine Gael and Fianna Fáil. On such a reading, the results were unfortunate, but not a cause for too much concern – a temporary blip, which might be corrected at the next election. Others, though, were less sanguine. Several commentators, most notably Eoghan Harris, declared that Sinn Féin had effectively been ‘put out of business’ in the south and even predicted the final collapse of the party’s remaining seats at the next general election.164 The question of whether or not the critics are right lies beyond the scope of this work. Suffice to say, though, that the 2007 Irish general election marked an unhappy end to a distinct phase in the peace process and, indeed, Sinn Féin’s broader political evolution. Over the preceding two years, the hand of the Adams–McGuinness leadership had been forced by the fallout from the Northern Bank robbery and the killing of Robert McCartney, which brought renewed focus on republican criminality and opened up republicans to sustained criticism for the first time during the peace process. Clearly, the

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setbacks suffered in late 2004 and early 2005 did do serious damage to the political prospects of Sinn Féin – and in response, the republican leadership was forced to set aside the dualism of the past. The ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ strategy was now replaced by something approaching a ‘ballot box alone’ approach. Subsequently, this proved sufficient to allow the party to entrench its position as the dominant force within northern nationalism. As a result, Martin McGuinness became the Deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland in a co-premiership with the DUP’s Ian Paisley. The immediate consequences in the south of Sinn Féin’s shift to a ‘ballot box alone’ approach, however, were less clear-cut and, in truth, only time will establish the effectiveness (or otherwise) of this strategy. Worryingly for the republican leadership, the June 2007 general election did seem to confirm that Sinn Féin’s previous electoral expansion in the Republic of Ireland had halted. More disturbing still, the results of that contest may have pointed the way towards a new divergence in the political fortunes of the party across the two jurisdictions of Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. Thus, even as Sinn Féin has consolidated its hegemony over the northern nationalist electoral arena, it may have reached a point, beyond which it cannot expand south of the border. It would be a bitter irony, indeed, if the party’s long march into politics – and on the allegedly inexorable path towards a united Ireland – ended only with the de facto partition of Sinn Féin itself.

Conclusion In 2002, Declan Kearney, a leading Belfast republican, gave a speech in which he spoke of the need for republicans to show ‘flexibility with tactics’ as they sought to travel the ‘Road Map to the Republic’. The republican struggle, Kearney claimed, ‘needed to be strategically driven at all times’ and ‘based on the reality of the existing situation’.1 In such fashion, Kearney succinctly captured the underlying attitude of the Adams–McGuinness leadership of the republican movement, as expressed over the previous two and a half decades. Repeatedly, that leadership had demonstrated a willingness and ability to modify its strategy, in order to meet the demands of what Gerry Adams labelled ‘objective realities’.2 Consequently, this was a period in which the character of the republican movement was transformed utterly. In 1981, Sinn Féin had existed as little more than a support organization for the IRA. The latter served as the principal vehicle of mainstream republicanism and sought the reunification of Ireland by its engagement in an armed struggle against the British state. Throughout the 1980s, this remained the central modus operandi of the republican movement. The IRA’s campaign was seen as the ‘vital cutting edge’ of the republican struggle. The Adams–McGuinness leadership believed that the IRA, by keeping Northern Ireland unstable and forcing the British to govern in direct ‘colonial’ manner, could eventually ‘sicken’ the British into withdrawal. While it was accepted that this would come through a process of negotiation (as opposed to a single, grand departure) the republican leadership believed that such negotiations should only be conducted alongside a continued military struggle. In this, they drew heavily on what might be termed a ‘Vietnam model’, which stressed the advantages of talking and fighting simultaneously. The suggestion that the IRA’s campaign of violence might be ended prior to a negotiating process was simply not entertained at this time; instead, this was to come only when the British finally declared their intent to withdraw from Ireland. While continuing to adhere to the importance of the military campaign, however, the Adams–McGuinness leadership also believed that republicans needed to broaden the struggle beyond this – a belief that was given fresh impetus by events surrounding the 1981 hunger strike. Thereafter, the republican leadership sought the development of a fully fledged republican political party on both sides of the Irish border. In Northern Ireland, it was imagined that this would provide for a republican ‘political veto’. This would interdict British efforts to establish an internal deal to end the conflict that included the representatives of moderate Unionism and nationalism in some form of power-sharing arrangement. The hope of the Adams–McGuinness leadership was that a dynamic and growing Sinn Féin would prevent the 183

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SDLP from fulfilling its allotted role in such an arrangement. In the Republic of Ireland, meanwhile, republicans also sought political expansion. Not only was this judged crucial in the immediate term (in opening up a new ‘front’ by which the movement could push for British withdrawal), but also republican political strength in the south was seen as an indispensable ingredient in the effort to secure a ‘republican’ solution in Ireland. In pursuit of these goals, Sinn Féin was resuscitated as a political party with a decidedly left-wing disposition that mixed radical politics with a strong record of involvement in local communities. Alongside this, the party also articulated a strident form of ‘ethnic nationalism’ that drew on its support base in the Catholic/nationalist ghettos of Northern Ireland. Through this combination of messages and appeal, it was imagined that a newly vibrant Sinn Féin would generate a process of ‘republicanization’ on both sides of the Irish border, bringing growing numbers of people to support the republican cause. By 1985, however, the failure of the republicanization project had become clear – even prior to the signing of the Anglo-Irish Agreement that year. In the south, Sinn Féin was still a fringe political entity; in the north, the halting of its political growth meant that the possibility of an internal deal for Northern Ireland continued to loom large. For this reason, the party adopted a new strategic objective: the formation of a pan-nationalist alliance by which it would attempt to draw the SDLP to itself and thereby head off an accommodation in Northern Ireland. Alongside this, Sinn Féin also sought to improve its own image, both by dropping the once-hallowed stance of abstentionism (the party’s refusal to take parliamentary seats) in the Republic of Ireland, and by adopting a ‘peace strategy’. The purpose of the latter was to amplify the appeal of Sinn Féin’s message by remedying the worst effects of the IRA’s armed struggle. It was at this time that language itself first became a weapon for the republican movement, to be divorced from actual actions and intentions. Thus, even as Sinn Féin spokespeople began to use the vocabulary of peace, there was, at that stage, little sign that the leadership had come to the conclusion that the IRA’s campaign would have to be ended. Instead, talking and fighting remained the bottom line of the Adams–McGuinness leadership’s approach. Contrary to what some have argued, it was only in the early 1990s that any shift in this outlook began to take place, and even then it occurred gradually, as the republican leadership was slowly forced to confront both the IRA’s mounting difficulties and a rapidly changing environment. Eventually, through the coalescence of various factors, the leadership had to accept that if it wanted to talk, then the fighting would have to cease. The decision to end the armed struggle, when it came however, did not mark the renunciation of republican objectives by the Adams–McGuinness leadership. The TUAS document, upon which the first IRA ceasefire was based, made this much clear. Consequently, rather than marking an end to the war, politics now became the continuation of that war by other means.

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In this context, the creation of a pan-nationalist alliance, to be drawn on during negotiations, was viewed as the key alternative to armed struggle. Even then, though, it was unclear how fully the Adams–McGuinness leadership had truly turned its back on violence. The ultimate testament to this came with the short resumption of the IRA campaign between February 1996 and July 1997. It was only in the wake of events at Omagh in 1998, and then New York and Washington in September 2001, that this option was closed off completely. With that said, though, the second IRA ceasefire did mark the point at which Sinn Féin displaced the IRA as the principal expression of the republican movement. From that point onwards, to paraphrase Gerry Adams, the political party was never again relegated to the ‘passenger seat’ by the military organization.3 Instead, after 1997, the peace process came to constitute the central strategic context in which the republican movement operated. Therein, the key republican objectives were: to push forward the political growth of Sinn Féin, north and south; to advance the cause of Irish unity through negotiations; to divide, unbalance and isolate Unionism; and to maintain and strengthen the pan-nationalist alliance as a vehicle by which the movement’s other objectives could be achieved. The success of this strategy could be gauged from the fact that, by 2001, Sinn Féin had achieved the political veto it had previously sought in vain in Northern Ireland. In addition, at that same point, the party was also in the midst of major political expansion south of the Irish border. The extent of this was such as to raise the possibility, by late 2004, that the party might even soon be in a position to enter coalition government in the Republic of Ireland. Integral to this success was the peace process and, especially, the Good Friday Agreement. Despite being a most ‘un-republican’ document, Sinn Féin’s endorsement of the latter was central to the image that developed, of republicans as the most ardently ‘pro-peace’ actors in the process. This image was carefully fostered and enhanced by repeated interventions by the IRA (particularly in relation to decommissioning) that supposedly verified republican good intentions. For seven years after the Agreement, this dynamic delivered striking political growth to Sinn Féin. In 2005, however, the prodigious expansion of Sinn Féin ended. The fallout from the Northern Bank robbery in late 2004, the murder of Robert McCartney in January 2005 and wider concerns about republican criminality combined to damage the party’s prospects. The Adams–McGuinness leadership was now forced to finally abandon the dualistic ‘Armalite and ballot box’ approach, with the announcement of a formal end to the IRA’s campaign and the completion of decommissioning. Ultimately, this proved sufficient to allow Sinn Féin back into government in Northern Ireland, though only after the party had committed itself to supporting the Northern Irish police service. In 2007, Martin McGuinness became the Deputy First Minister of the province – symbolically completing the transition from ‘terrorist’ to ‘statesman’ and confirming his party’s dominance within northern nationalism. Such success, however, has not been

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replicated south of the Irish border. There, at the 2007 general election, Sinn Féin failed to achieve the leap forward it had sought and actually saw its representation in the Irish Parliament reduced. Whether or not this heralds a new decline in the party’s fortunes or a temporary setback remains to be seen. Nevertheless, irrespective of recent results in the Irish Republic, there was little doubting the fact that, by 2007, Sinn Féin was virtually unrecognizable from the entity of a quarter-century earlier. Whereas, in its earlier incarnation, the party had spoken the language of unreconstructed, hard-line militarism, the later version spoke only of ‘peace in Ireland’ and its desire to see an ‘Ireland of equals’. By the same token, whereas, in 1981, Sinn Féin had been very much ‘itself alone’, by 2007, it had abandoned abstentionism on both sides of the border (and sat in government in the north), embraced notions of pan-nationalism and was prepared to seek alliances wherever possible. Above all, whereas, at the start of this period, Sinn Féin had been a minor entity, overshadowed by its military counterpart, by the end of 2007, the political party now stood as the dominant vehicle for mainstream republicanism. In its management of this transformation, it verges on the banal to state that the Adams–McGuinness leadership, to some extent, embraced ‘change’ itself as a guiding principle. In the words of long-time leadership member, Tom Hartley, Sinn Féin was, throughout the period, a ‘party of change . . . [which] survived on the basis of having highly manoeuvrable politics, which don’t allow the movement to be cornered’.4 Inspiring this attitude was a determination to actually deliver on republican objectives. As the Sinn Féin MLA, Francie Molloy, noted, ‘we want to live in the Republic, we don’t just want it as a plaque on the wall!’5 To this end, all principles, aside from the commitment to Irish unity, were considered open to change. As Pat Doherty declared: ‘Tactics are there to be adapted and changed when the need arises . . . principles are there to be achieved.’6 Flowing from this attitude, a party that was once defined by a commitment to parliamentary abstentionism and armed struggle now took its seats in Stormont, Leinster House and Brussels, while simultaneously being one of the central players in the Northern Irish peace process. By the same token, republicans increasingly adopted the language of their opponents, even to the extent of endorsing an Agreement that was founded in the language of Unionist consent and appeared to legitimize the Northern Irish state. Without doubt, the scale of these changes created major ambiguities and internal difficulties for the republican leadership at various points. Nevertheless, for the most part, the leadership was able to avoid potentially serious divisions and maintain the overall unity of the movement. On the one hand, this success was a product of both the generally high esteem in which the leadership was held and the leadership’s self-declared willingness to negotiate with its own people. Alongside this, however, some doubt has been cast on

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the quality of the internal republican negotiating process – especially given the apparent centralization of mainstream republicanism over the period covered. In this regard, it seems undeniable that the years of the peace process, in particular, witnessed a growing authoritarianism within the republican movement. Moreover, internal negotiations on major issues tended to be approached in noticeably similar fashion by the Adams–McGuinness leadership – the aim being to minimize the potential for significant unrest or mass defections. Whether in the case of the abandonment of abstentionism, the ending of the IRA’s campaign, or Sinn Féin’s endorsement of the Good Friday Agreement, the leadership was careful to observe Danny Morrison’s maxim: a debate was only conducted once the leadership itself had made up its mind. That being the case, the debates, or negotiations, tended to be more akin to exercises in persuasion, by which the Adams–McGuinness leadership attempted to convince ordinary republicans of the merits of actions it had already decided upon. In the 1990s, as the peace process developed momentum, this reality meant that the republican leadership was, to some extent, charting a course all of its own. At every step it faced twin negotiations: externally with the British government and the Unionists; internally with the republican grassroots. Through the conduct of such Janus-faced negotiations, however, the Adams–McGuinness leadership was able to bring the wider republican movement to accept the enormous changes it believed necessary. The extent of these changes was such as to convince many that the leadership had, in truth, sold out and abandoned the republican cause. Rather than accept such an assertion, however, the argument here is that the Adams-McGuinness leadership continues to pursue the ultimate republican ideological objective of Irish unity. Such changes as have occurred should, therefore, be understood to have taken place in the realm of tactics and shortto medium-term strategic objectives. The truth of this can be seen from examining the degree of ideological revisionism, or rather the lack thereof, of the republican leadership, on the key subjects that lay at the heart of the Northern Ireland conflict. As has been demonstrated, for example, regarding the question of Unionism, the republican position remained that which it always had been; namely, that even as republicans appeared to extend the hand of friendship to Unionists, Unionism, as an ideology, continued to be seen as something to be out-manoeuvred and defeated. In similar vein, republican attitudes to the Northern Irish state, the legitimacy of partition and the role of the British government in Ireland were little altered. As one regular contributor to An Phoblacht/Republican News put it in May 2003, in the context of calls for ‘acts of completion’ from republicans: Tony Blair talks of ‘acts of completion’, as if, when the Agreement is implemented the problem of the North will be solved, the process of political transformation over. For republicans, the ‘only act of completion’ will be

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the departure of the last British soldier from Ireland, on the same plane as the last British minister ever to meddle in the affairs of our country.7 Specifically rejected here was the idea that the Agreement could ever constitute a ‘settlement’ for Northern Ireland. Instead, the message was plain: the Agreement, and the peace process of which it was a part, were to be viewed only as vehicles for the attainment of the unchanged republican objective of Irish unity. Seen from such a perspective, the impression gained of the Adams–McGuinness leadership is one that emphasizes what might be termed the ‘ultra-pragmatism’ of those involved. The label of ‘pragmatism’ is one that has been often attached to people such as Gerry Adams and his supporters; yet, equally as often, it is a label that has been misunderstood. For there has been a tendency to equate pragmatism with both ideological moderation and a readiness to compromise. In reality, they are altogether different traits. The pragmatism of the Adams–McGuinness leadership stems from a capacity to: make realistic appraisal of the situation facing the republican movement; evaluate the movement’s ability to achieve its objectives on that basis; and act accordingly. Where those objectives have appeared unobtainable, the leadership has altered course and embraced a new approach. At each stage, it has responded to pressure placed upon, or inducements offered to, the republican movement, by measuring the costs and benefits of its actions. The leadership’s pragmatism, therefore, does not reflect any eagerness to discard its underlying commitment to the key republican objective of Irish unity. On the contrary, on that fundamental issue the central figures of the leadership are avowed ideologues. In the words of one former senior republican, the people at the heart of the movement remain ‘utterly relentless . . . [and] prepared to do whatever it takes to succeed’.8 As has been shown, this ‘whatever it takes’ attitude included a willingness to adopt positions that ran counter to traditional republican ideology. Hence, it was possible for the Adams–McGuinness leadership to end abstentionism in the Republic of Ireland, end the IRA’s armed struggle and even endorse the Good Friday Agreement. In each instance, the impetus for the leadership’s actions was provided by tactical consideration, not ideological revisionism. With regards to the latter, for instance, at the time of the Agreement it was clear that Unionists de facto had a veto, as afforded them by the British government’s insistence that the consent principle be applied to Northern Ireland’s future status. Thirty years of IRA violence had failed to alter this simple fact. Flowing from this, the reality was that Northern Ireland existed and was unlikely to disappear in the immediate future. In response to these objective realities, therefore, it made sense that, if the republican leadership felt the movement would benefit from appearing to endorse the Agreement (as was the case), it made sense to do so. This, however, did not represent an acceptance of either the Unionist veto or Northern Ireland’s right to exist.

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The republican movement’s subversive intent in relation to both remained intact. At root, the change was one of form, not substance. Such an interpretation was very much the one that those within the republican leadership themselves ascribed to their actions. The truth of this could be seen, for instance, from the way in which Sinn Féin chose to commemorate the twentieth anniversary of the 1983 mass breakout from the Maze prison. Not only did the party hold a dinner dance to mark the occasion, but also An Phoblacht/Republican News carried a highly instructive piece eulogizing the republican ‘Great Escape’. As the article noted, the prison breakout was a highly significant episode within the collective memory of modern republicanism. Coming at a time when there were suggestions that the republican struggle in the prisons had been defeated, following the collapse of the 1981 hunger strike, the 1983 escape was seen by republicans as an act of defiance that proved the lie of their defeat. As to whether this is a fair analysis of the incident is not the issue here; rather, the significance of the episode is that this was how Sinn Féin remembered it. It was, thus, described as, ‘one of the most humiliating defeats ever inflicted on the British war machine by republicans’.9 Of even greater note, meanwhile, was the fact that this victory was judged to have been achieved by republican prisoners being prepared to work the system in the short term, despite their misgivings, in order to secure victory in the long term. In the words of An Phoblacht/Republican News, this had meant that the ‘bitter pill’ of cooperation with the authorities had, nonetheless, been ‘swallowed on trust’ by prisoners. The effect was to ‘lull the screws into a false sense of security . . . and from that platform the escape was launched’.10 The implicit message to the republican audience was unmistakable: sometimes unusual, or apparently contradictory, measures were necessary in order to defeat the enemy. Such moves were not, however, to be interpreted as surrender, or the renunciation of objectives. So it was with the 1983 prison escape; so too, the leadership wished its supporters to understand the republican movement’s endorsement of the Good Friday Agreement. It too was a bitter pill for republicans to swallow, but it too was to be seen as part of the effort by which republicans might yet inflict a terminal defeat on their ideological opponents. What emerges, then, is an image of the Adams–McGuinness leadership as engaged in a ‘long game’. Remarking on this characteristic, one Unionist politician has placed it in stark contrast with the perceived attitude of Unionism: ‘Whereas Unionism tends to want everything done yesterday, Sinn Féin is very happy to wait ten, twenty, thirty years to fulfil the strategy they have in mind.’11 The truth of this was confirmed by the aforementioned speech delivered by Declan Kearney on the occasion of the John Joe McGirl commemoration in 2002. Therein, Kearney stated plainly, ‘Sinn Féin faces a process of slow, laborious, long-term activism, with a potential 15–20 year trajectory.’12 In similar vein, the report of the Cuige chairman to Sinn Féin’s

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2006 internal conference at Gulladuff spoke of the need for activists to place themselves on a ‘ten year trajectory’.13 What such comments again reveal is the relentless commitment of the Adams–McGuinness leadership. Consequently, while the republican movement’s ‘long war’ may have ended, this has been translated into a ‘long negotiation’, or perhaps even more appropriately a ‘Cold War’. In line with this, it is noticeable that the republican leadership still speaks the language of conflict: waging ‘war by another means’; building political ‘beachheads’; and operating in different ‘sites of struggle’.14 Thus, while the violence of the ‘Troubles’ may have ended, the ideological conflict most certainly has not. To recognize this, however, is not to argue that the strategy of the republican leadership is likely to succeed. Indeed, such an assessment lies beyond the scope of this work. It might be noted, though, that for years, republicans laboured under the belief that they could bomb the Northern Irish state out of existence and IRA violence could achieve Irish unity. The lesson of experience suggests that such a belief was fundamentally misguided. In light of this, it might be asked, ‘Is the modern-day strategy of the Adams–McGuinness leadership necessarily any less mistaken? Is the “ballot box alone” approach of that leadership any less delusional than the “Armalite and ballot box” strategy that preceded it?’ Questions of this nature are only made more compelling when it is considered that potential weak-points in that strategy may already be becoming visible. It is possible to query, for example, the extent to which the predominantly northern-based republican leadership really understands politics in the Republic of Ireland. After all, much of the leadership’s rhetoric on the subject draws on relatively simplistic attacks on what are referred to as ‘gombeen politics’.15 That being the case, there must surely be doubts as to whether Sinn Féin, as currently constituted, could ever become a truly major force in southern Irish politics. And in this regard it is noticeable that the 2007 Irish general election prompted re-evaluation in some republican quarters, from those who did not share their leadership’s optimism that the results achieved were merely a blip. There was concern too that the leadership itself might have been at least partly responsible for Sinn Féin’s poor showing during the election. Gerry Adams, in particular, now came in for some criticism for his faltering performances during the campaign, when discussing detailed matters of policy. This was especially so in relation to questions of economics, with internal critics expressing dissatisfaction at what they saw as the leadership’s impromptu departure from established party positions. By the same token, the events of 2005 had appeared to show the vulnerability of Sinn Féin’s peace strategy. On the one hand, the negative publicity and then electoral reverses of that year seemed to illustrate the extent to which the republican political project remained highly dependent on the continuation of the peace process. At the same time, the exposure of Denis Donaldson’s covert activities as a British spy revealed the internal damage that might be

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done to Sinn Féin in the future, as the truth of Northern Ireland’s ‘dirty war’ emerges. The ability of the Adams–McGuinness leadership to proceed relies much on its success in holding together the republican movement. This, in turn, rests, to a significant degree, on the trust that the leadership inspires in its followers. Yet, revelations such as those surrounding Donaldson (and before him, Freddie Scappaticci) are highly corrosive of precisely that trust. For this reason, it may be that further disclosures of this nature will prove terminal to the republican leadership’s overall strategy. More broadly, in the years after 2005 it was possible to detect a more voluble level of criticism of the Adams–McGuinness leadership. The unfolding of the peace process prompted new questions as to the leadership’s stewardship of that process, from a republican perspective, from those who had previously been loyal lieutenants. Signs of dissent became visible during late 2006 and early 2007, in the run-up to the accommodation that was reached with the DUP. Thus, there were, at this time, significant departures from the republican ranks. In September 2006, for instance, it was reported that a longtime senior republican, Bernard Fox, had resigned from the movement.16 Fox later became involved with the Dublin-based ‘Eirigi’ group that declared itself loyal to traditional republican principles.17 Another to quit the movement in this period was Laurence O’Neill, a former hunger striker from Belfast, who had once been considered very close to the Adams–McGuinness leadership. Not only did O’Neill attack the party’s shift in policing policy, but also he was pointed in his criticism of what he felt was the leadership’s constant desire for control.18 Where Fox and O’Neill led, others followed – especially after the conclusion of the deal with the DUP in early 2007. One of Sinn Féin’s sitting MLA’s at Stormont, Gerry McHugh, resigned from the party in December 2007 (while deciding to stay on within the assembly), claiming to have been ‘increasingly disillusioned with the totally undemocratic nature of the party and the wholly top-down dictation within it’.19 McHugh also offered a stinging critique of Sinn Féin’s performance within the new Northern Irish Executive and attacked the party’s new position on policing. With regards to the latter, it is clear that Sinn Féin’s stance on policing has the potential to continue to cause the party serious problems. Other defections have occurred, with the defectors frequently citing this as the principal source of their discontent. To give but one example, a local Sinn Féin councillor in Fermanagh, Bernice Swift, left the party in October 2007, after attacking the decision to join the PSNI’s District Policing Partnership Boards (DPPBs). These boards, she argued, were constructed so that ‘meaningful control and accountability by the community is impossible’.20 ‘At best’, she claimed, they would be ‘meaningless talking shops’.21 Though Swift’s comments could be dismissed as an isolated case, they do seem to be indicative of genuine republican unease, often manifested locally, with the party’s new policing policy.22

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At one level, this unease might make it difficult for the party to actually fulfil its policing commitments in some areas. In Strabane in late 2007, for example, Sinn Féin was simply unable to find candidates from within its ranks who were willing to join the local DPPB.23 Were this failure to be replicated more widely then it could carry serious consequences for the sustainability of the devolved institutions. Elsewhere, meanwhile, such developments, alongside the aforementioned resignations and mobilization of the ‘Concerned Republicans’ opposition to Sinn Féin’s endorsement of the PSNI seems to suggest that a republican opposition to Sinn Féin could coalesce within Northern Ireland. Only time will tell, of course, whether this is indeed the case. For the moment, though, such considerations remain within the realm of conjecture. Instead, what can be said with certainty is that the pragmatism of the Adams–McGuinness leadership over the last quarter of a century has brought a remarkable evolution in the nature of the republican movement. Underpinning all the changes has been a leadership that remains unswerving in its dedication to its principal ideological objective and continues to think strategically as to how best it might achieve that objective. It is, therefore, perhaps time to take the republican movement at its word, when it declares that the Northern Ireland ‘issue’ is not yet settled. For Sinn Féin and the broader republican movement, the struggle – their self-proclaimed long march towards Irish unity – does indeed go on.

Appendix I: The Leadership of the Republican Movement during the Peace Process

Other leading members of Sinn Féin Conor Murphy (p) Mary-Lou McDonald Alex Maskey (p) Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin Arthur Morgan (p) Sean Crowe (p) Michelle Gildernew Aengus O Snodaigh Bairbre de Brun

Influential ex-prisoners Seanna Walsh (p) Padraig Wilson (p) Leo Green (p) Bernard Fox (p) (until 2006) Brendan McFarlane (p) Raymond McCartney (p) Laurence McKeown (p) Ella O’Dwyer (p) Martina Anderson (p)

Core strategy personnel

Gerry Adams (p) Martin McGuinness (p) Ted Howell (p) Pat Doherty Martin Ferris (p) Gerry Kelly (p) Mitchel McLaughlin Declan Kearney (p) Tom Hartley (p) Jim Gibney (p) Brian Keenan (p)

(p) denotes former republican prisoner

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Behind-the-scenes IRA figures

Behind-the-scenes Sinn Féin figures Aidan McAteer (p) Richard McAuley (p) Chrissie McAuley Siobhan O’Hanlon Dawn Doyle Rita O’Hare Denis Donaldson (until 2005) (p) Lucilita Breathnach Dodie McGuinness

Appendix II: The Geographical Base of the Republican Leadership

Gerry Adams Ted Howell Gerry Kelly Declan Kearney Tom Hartley Jim Gibney Seanna Walsh Padraig Wilson Leo Green Bernard Fox Brendan McFarlane Laurence McKeown Alex Maskey Denis Donaldson Chrissie McAuley Richard McAuley Aidan McAteer Siobhan O’Hanlon Brian Keenan BELFAST

Martin McGuinness Mitchel McLaughlin Raymond McCartney Martina Anderson Dodie McGuinness

Mary-Lou McDonald Sean Crowe Aengus O Snodaigh Dawn Doyle Lucilita Breathnach Rita O’Hare Ella O’Dwyer

Pat Doherty (Donegal) Martin Ferris (Kerry) Conor Murphy (South Armagh) Arthur Morgan (Louth) Caoimhghín Ó Caoláin (Monaghan) Michelle Gildernew (Fermanagh)

DERRY

DUBLIN

OTHER

194

Notes Introduction 1. Sinn Féin Northern Ireland Assembly Election Leaflet, Vote Sinn Féin, Vote Nationalist: Vote Carron and Molloy 1 and 2 (1982) (Linenhall Library Political Collection – henceforth LLPC). 2. ‘IRA leads the way – IRA statement’, An Phoblacht/Republican News (hereafter, AP/RN), 28 July 2005; ‘IRA “has destroyed all its arms”’, BBC News Online, 26 September 2005, available at , last accessed 26 October 2006. 3. The ‘Provisionals’ are held to be the mainstream IRA and Sinn Féin throughout, and as such the moniker is not always used. Rival claimants to the title deeds of those organizations, such as the ‘Official’ or ‘Real’ IRA, are identified as such where appropriate. 4. Morrison, cited in ‘By Ballot and Bullet’, AP/RN, front page, 5 November 1981. 5. Cited in T. P. Coogan, The IRA (London, 2000), p. 467. 6. Cited in D. Lister, ‘Adams is a top leader in IRA, Irish minister says’, The Times, 21 February 2005. 7. Lemass, cited in R. Dunphy, The Making of Fianna Fáil Power in Ireland 1923–1948 (Oxford, 1995), p. 139. 8. ‘Introduction to Sinn Féin’, Sinn Féin website, available at , last accessed 26 October 2006. 9. Barry McElduff, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 August 2003. 10. B. Feeney, Sinn Féin: A Hundred Turbulent Years (Dublin, 2002). 11. In this regard, see, for example, P. Taylor, Provos: The IRA and Sinn Féin (London, 1997); B. O’Brien, The Long War: The IRA and Sinn Féin, 2nd edn (Dublin, 1999); M.L.R. Smith, Fighting for Ireland? The Military Strategy of the Irish Republican Movement, 2nd edn (London, 1997). 12. E. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA (London, 2002). 13. H. Patterson, The Politics of Illusion: A Political History of the IRA, 2nd edn (London, 1997). 14. R. Bourke, Peace in Ireland: The War of Ideas (London, 2003), pp. 173, 177–8. 15. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 January 2004. 16. A. Maillot, New Sinn Féin: Irish Republicanism in the Twenty-First Century (Abbingdon, 2005); G. Murray and J. Tonge, Sinn Féin and the SDLP: From Alienation to Participation (London, 2005). 17. Patterson, The Politics of Illusion, p. 190. 18. ‘Annual Commemoration of Wolfe Tone, Bodenstown Oration, given by Jimmy Drumm’, Republican News, 18 June 1977. Ed Moloney has convincingly explained that it was Adams and Morrison who actually composed the speech and then chose Drumm to read it. See Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 150–1. 19. Smith, Fighting for Ireland?. 20. M. O’Doherty, The Trouble with Guns: Republican Strategy and the Provisional IRA (Belfast, 1998). 21. K. Rafter, Sinn Féin 1905–2005: In the Shadow of Gunmen (Dublin, 2005), p. 3. 195

196 Notes 22. See R. English, Armed Struggle: A History of the IRA (London, 2003) and R. English, Irish Freedom: A History of Nationalism in Ireland (London, 2007). 23. R. Alonso, The IRA and Armed Struggle (London, 2006), p. 194. 24. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. 25. For more on the 1981 hunger strike, see, for instance: L. Clarke, Broadening the Battlefied: The H-Blocks and the Rise of Sinn Féin (Dublin, 1987); D. Beresford, Ten Men Dead: The Story of the 1981 Irish Hunger Strike, 2nd edn (London, 1994); and for a more revisionist view, R. O’Rawe, Blanketmen: An Untold Story of the H-Block Hunger Strike (Dublin, 2005). 26. Gibney, cited in Feeney, Sinn Féin, p. 291. 27. Bourke, Peace in Ireland, pp. 43–180; Patterson, The Politics of Illusion, pp. 186–7. 28. Smith, Fighting for Ireland?, p. 154. 29. See, for example, Patterson, The Politics of Illusion, pp. 180–94; Bourke, Peace in Ireland, pp. 165–72. 30. It is generally accepted that ‘Brownie’ was Gerry Adams; republicans themselves have admitted as much in the past. In an article for An Phoblacht/Republican News in 1987, for example, Martin McGuinness confirmed that the pen name ‘Brownie’ applied to Adams (see M. McGuinness, ‘A Comradeship of Suffering’, AP/RN, 23 July 1987). However, in March 2004, Adams’ close aide, Richard McAuley, wrote a letter to the Belfast Telegraph in which he claimed to have co-authored several of the ‘Brownie’ articles, including one in which the author admitted to being an IRA member. For more on this, see C. Thornton, ‘Adams’ IRA sham’, Belfast Telegraph, 19 March 2004. 31. ‘IRA Geared To A Long War’, Republican News, 9 December 1978. 32. G. Adams, ‘Presidential Address: Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 17 November 1983. 33. ‘Brownie’, ‘Active Republicanism’, Republican News, 1 May 1976. 34. Gibney, cited in Frontline Online, ‘The IRA and Sinn Féin: Interviews: Jim Gibney’, PBS, available at , last accessed 28 October 2006. 35. Irish Interest Group, ‘Sinn Féin and the Educative Process: An Interview with Daisy Mules’, Jouvert: A Journal of Postcolonial Studies, April 1996, available at , last accessed at 28 October 2006. 36. The pre-1981 drift of power away from Ó Brádaigh and O’Conaill and towards the ‘young Turks’ had been made evident by the shift in control of Sinn Féin’s newspaper, which led to the emergence of an overhauled An Phoblacht/Republican News (merging the previously separate newspapers of An Phoblacht and Republican News) under the editorship of Danny Morrison in 1979. See Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 178–80. 37. Clarke, Broadening the Battlefield, pp. 206–8. 38. G. Adams, Hope and History: Making Peace in Ireland (Dingle, 2003), pp. 31, 79. 39. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. 40. Adams, Hope and History, p. 27. 41. See, for example, O’Brien, The Long War, p. 122; Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 401. 42. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 1 September 2003. 43. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, London, 12 March 2005. 44. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. 45. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, London, 12 March 2005. 46. Ibid.

Notes

197

47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53.

Denis Donaldson, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 January 2004. F. O’Connor, Only Child (London, 1961). D. Morrison, Then the Walls Came Down: A Prison Journal (Dublin, 1999), p. 93. Gerry Kelly, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 March 2004. Ibid. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. Ruairi Ó Brádaigh, speaking to Sinn Féin’s November 1983 ard fheis, remarked that the history of republicanism was one of ‘splits, splits, splits’; cited in D. Sharrock and M. Devenport, Man of War, Man of Peace: The Unauthorised Biography of Gerry Adams (London, 1997), p. 213. Similarly, the republican-turned-playwright, Brendan Behan, was famously said to have remarked that the first item on the agenda, when any new movement met in Ireland, was ‘the split’. 54. A. McIntyre, ‘Modern Irish Republicanism: The Product of British State Strategies’, Irish Political Studies, 10 (1995), pp. 97–121. 55. De Bréadún, cited in ‘Martin McGuinness’, BBC 1, 30 October 2002.

1

Building the Political Party and ‘Republicanization’, 1981–5

1. G. Adams, ‘Bobby Sands, republicanism and the freedom struggle’, Iris: The republican magazine, 10 July 1985, p. 18. 2. Rafter, Sinn Féin 1905–2005, p. 113. 3. ‘By Ballot and Bullet’, AP/RN, front page, 5 November 1981. 4. Figures taken from ‘Northern Ireland Assembly Elections 1982’, ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. 5. Figures taken from ‘Westminster election, 11 June 1983’, ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. See also Feeney, Sinn Féin, p. 318. 6. ‘Republicanization’, as described by Adams, encapsulates the message put across by ‘Brownie’ in his numerous articles. See, for example, ‘Brownie’, ‘Agitate, Educate, Liberate’, Republican News, 22 May 1976; G. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom (Dingle, 1986), pp. 86–7. 7. M. Kelly, ‘The world according to Gerry Adams – Michael Kelly Interview’, In Dublin, 22 August 1985. 8. ‘Interview with IRA spokesperson’, Magill, July 1983, p. 9. 9. ‘“We have now established a sort of Republican veto”: Michael Farrell interviews Gerry Adams MP, vice-president of Sinn Féin’, Magill, July 1983, p. 13. 10. S. O’Callaghan, The Informer (London, 1999), p. 425. 11. ‘“We have now established a sort of Republican veto”: Michael Farrell interviews Gerry Adams MP, vice-president of Sinn Féin’, Magill, July 1983. 12. Sinn Féin European Election Leaflet, Vote Sinn Féin No. 1: One Ireland, One People – The Only Alternative (1984) (LLPC). 13. Sinn Féin General Election (UK) Leaflet, Vote Sinn Féin: Gerry Adams (1983) (LLPC). 14. Ibid. 15. McGuinness, cited in O’Brien, The Long War, p. 152. 16. Morrison, cited in G. Kerrigan, “ ‘The IRA has to do what the IRA has to do”: Interview with Danny Morrison’, Magill, September 1984, p. 12. 17. P. Arnlis, ‘The war will go on’, AP/RN, 16 September 1982.

198 Notes 18. 1972 was described as the ‘Year of Victory’, while Sinn Féin later declared that 1974 would bring ‘Victory to the IRA’. See ‘Year of Victory’, Republican News, front page, 2 January 1972; ‘Victory to the IRA 1974’, An Phoblacht, front page, 4 January 1974. 19. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 12 September 2006. 20. K. McCool, ‘Valuable lesson in British duplicity’, AP/RN, 6 August 1987. 21. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 12 September 2006. 22. For the Adams-McGuinness leadership’s critique of the 1975 truce, see Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 141–5. 23. Thompson, cited in P. Dixon, ‘Counter-insurgency in Northern Ireland and the Crisis of the British State’, in P. Rich (ed.), The Counter-insurgent State: Guerrilla Warfare and State-building in the Twentieth Century (London, 1997), p. 196. 24. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 12 September 2006. 25. ‘IRA rocks enemy morale’, AP/RN, front page, 22 July 1982; ‘IRA Blitz Brits’, AP/RN, front page, 18 October 1984; ‘100lbs that Shook the Establishment’, AP/RN, 18 October 1984. 26. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 64. 27. Ibid., p. 3. 28. Ibid., p. 88. 29. Ibid., p. 23. 30. Sinn Féin, Republican Lecture Series No. 9: Loyalism (1984) (LLPC). 31. Ibid. 32. ‘“We have now established a sort of Republican veto”: Michael Farrell interviews Gerry Adams MP, vice-president of Sinn Féin’, Magill, July 1983, p. 14. 33. D. Morrison, ‘Danny Morrison’, in M. Collins (ed.), Ireland after Britain (London, 1985), p. 92. 34. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 89. 35. ‘Federalism rejected, positive electoral policy adopted’, AP/RN, 5 November 1981. 36. Morrison, ‘Danny Morrison’, pp. 87 and 92. 37. Ibid., p. 92. 38. G. Adams, ‘Scenario for a Socialist Republic speech: Article first printed in An Phoblacht/Republican News April 1980’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism: Recent Papers by Gerry Adams (Dublin, 1988), p. 31. 39. ‘Annual Commemoration of Wolfe Tone, Bodenstown Oration, given by Jimmy Drumm’, Republican News, 18 June 1977. 40. The IRA informer, Freddie Scappaticci, confirmed that this was the term used by republicans when he was interviewed by a team from a TV programme, The Cook Report. Cited in M. Ingram and G. Harkin, Stakeknife: Britain’s Secret Agents in Ireland (Dublin, 2004), p. 80. 41. ‘IRA on crime: Exclusive Interview with Irish Republican Army spokesperson’, AP/RN, 27 September 1984. 42. See, for example, J. Sluka, Hearts and Minds, Water and Fish: Support for the IRA and INLA in a Northern Irish Ghetto (London, 1989), p. 131. 43. O’Doherty, The Trouble with Guns, pp. 151–4. 44. J. Hejlesen, ‘“. . . And a Ballot Paper in this Hand . . .”: A Review of the Political Strategy and Policies of Sinn Féin in the 1980s’, unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Odense, 1994, p. 54. 45. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 1 September 2003. 46. Ibid. 47. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 January 2004.

Notes

199

48. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 June 2004. 49. ‘Storm Clouds Gather’, AP/RN, front page, 26 July 1984; P. Arnlis, ‘Next Please!’, AP/RN, 26 July 1984. 50. J. Madden, ‘Why the war was lost: An appraisal of republican strategy in 1922’, AP/RN, 26 July 1984. 51. ‘Poleglass blackspot’, AP/RN, 26 July 1984; S. O’Malley, ‘Bray takes drug action’, AP/RN, 26 July 1984. 52. The roots of Northern Ireland’s Civil Rights Movement lay in the mid-1960s’ efforts of groups such as the Homeless Citizens League and the Campaign for Social Justice, to bring an end to discrimination in precisely this area. For more on this see Bourke, Peace in Ireland, pp. 53–63. 53. Sinn Féin, Republican Lecture Series No.7: Social Agitation (1985) (LLPC). 54. See, for example, M. Armstrong, ‘Divis Desperation’, AP/RN, 12 January 1984. 55. See, for instance, West Belfast Bulletin, 1(1), March 1983, or Lagan Valley Bulletin, 1(1), May 1983, both of which carried articles entitled, ‘Housing: Worst in Europe’. 56. ‘Morrison in Poleglass and Twinbrook: Vote SF: Morrison’, Lagan Valley Bulletin, 3, June 1984. 57. Ibid. 58. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 August 2003. 59. Fra McCann, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 March 2004. 60. ‘Broadening the struggle’, West Belfast Bulletin, 1(1), March 1983. 61. See, for example, S. O’Malley, ‘A push against the pushers’, AP/RN, 7 July 1983; B. Kerr, ‘Ballymun takes on pushers’, AP/RN, 26 January 1984; K. Burke, ‘Drugs Carnage – 7 dead in a week’, AP/RN, 28 June 1984; S. O’Malley, ‘Bray takes drug action’, AP/RN, 26 July 1984; M. MacDiarmada, ‘Attempt to Smash Concerned Parents Campaign’, AP/RN, 31 October 1985. 62. S. O’Malley, ‘A push against the pushers’, AP/RN, 7 July 1983. 63. M. de Barra, ‘Gardai target anti-drugs groups’, AP/RN, 22 March 1984. 64. Anonymous (confidential interview with former community worker), Dublin, 20 July 2006. 65. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 12 September 2006. 66. Ibid. 67. Anonymous (confidential interview with former community worker), Dublin, 20 July 2006. 68. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, 22 November 2005. 69. J. Noonan, ‘Education Department Background Reading Document’, Iris Bheag, 3, October 1987, p. 19. 70. F. O’Connor, In Search of a State: Catholics in Northern Ireland (Belfast, 1993), p. 18. 71. Gibney, cited in ‘Adams highlights importance of republished Greaves classic’, The Irish Democrat, available at , last accessed 31 October 2006. 72. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, pp. 6, 8, 37–8, 47, 128 and 132–6. 73. Mellows, cited in C.D. Greaves, Liam Mellows and the Irish Revolution (London, 1971), pp. 363–4. 74. ‘Brownie’, as cited on pp. 16–17 above. 75. Mellows, cited in Greaves, Liam Mellows and the Irish Revolution, p. 364; G. Adams, ‘Labour Cannot Wait!: Speech to Annual Republican May Day Rally in Derry, 1985’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism, p. 22. 76. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 27 March 2003.

200 Notes 77. Tom Hartley, interview with the author, Belfast, 27 March 2003. 78. English, Armed Struggle, p. 232. 79. For more on this see M. Frampton, ‘“Squaring the Circle”: The Foreign Policy of Sinn Féin, 1983–1989’, Irish Political Studies, 19(2) (Winter 2004), pp. 47–9. 80. See, for instance, D. Breatnach, ‘Celtic Origin’, AP/RN, 2 May 1981. Ó Brádaigh was a keen advocate of a Celtic Federation, and made frequent trips to the Basque country in pursuit of this proposed alliance. 81. For more on this, see M. Frampton, ‘“Squaring the Circle”: the Foreign Policy of Sinn Féin, 1983–2001’, unpublished MPhil dissertation, University of Cambridge, 2003, pp. 23–47. 82. Bourke, Peace in Ireland, pp. 25–6. 83. Cited in ‘IRA condemn NLF lying statements’, An Phoblacht, October 1972. See also, ‘The Provos are the force in Ireland today’, An Phoblacht, March 1972; ‘Eire Nua’, An Phoblacht, August 1972. 84. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 132. 85. Adams, ‘Labour cannot wait!’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism, p. 20. 86. Adams, ‘Not just a “Brits Out” Movement’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism, p. 25. 87. Ibid. 88. Adams, ‘Labour cannot wait!’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism, p. 20. 89. Ibid.; G. Adams, ‘Presidential Address: Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 17 November 1983. 90. K. Burke, ‘A party on the move’, AP/RN, 17 November 1983. 91. Sinn Féin, Sinn Féin Policy Document (Dublin, 1986) (LLPC), pp. 2–6. 92. R. O’Hare, ‘Special Focus: Women and the Republican Struggle’, Iris: The republican magazine, 8, August 1984. 93. For example, during the 1984 Ard Fheis, the section on ‘women’s affairs’ saw nineteen motions submitted by the various cumainn (branches of Sinn Féin) for discussion, as compared to just two during the 1981 Ard Fheis. See, Sinn Féin, Ard Fheis Clar agus Ruin 1984 (Dublin, 1984) (LLPC), pp. 18–22; Sinn Féin, Ard Fheis Clar agus Ruin 1981 (Dublin, 1981) (LLPC), p. 8. 94. Sinn Féin, Ard Fheis Clar agus Ruin 1984 (Dublin, 1984) (LLPC); Sinn Féin, Sinn Féin Policy Document (Dublin, 1986) (LLPC), p. 18. 95. Danny Morrison himself noted the scale of this shift in his 1984 Magill interview. Morrison, cited in G. Kerrigan, ‘“The IRA has to do what the IRA has to do”. Interview with Danny Morrison’, Magill, September 1984, p. 13. 96. Pat Doherty, interview with the author, Belfast, 23 August 2003. 97. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 August 2003. 98. Brighton Troops Out Movement, Discussions and Questions with Daisy Mules in May 1985 (Brighton, 1986) (LLPC). 99. Sinn Féin Northern Ireland Assembly Election Leaflet, Vote Sinn Féin, Vote Nationalist: Vote Carron and Molloy 1 and 2 (1982) (LLPC). 100. Sinn Féin Northern Ireland Assembly Election Leaflet, Break the British connection! Smash Stormont! Vote Sinn Féin (1982) (LLPC). 101. Sinn Féin General Election (UK) Leaflet, Vote Sinn Féin, Vote Nationalist: Save the Seat, Vote Carron (1983) (LLPC). 102. Ibid. 103. Ibid. 104. O’Hagan, cited in Sharrock and Davenport, Man of War, Man of Peace, p. 96.

Notes

201

105. Adams, cited in A. McIntyre, ‘Calling A Spade a Shovel’, The Blanket, 28 November 2001, available at , last accessed 31 October 2006. 106. Ibid. 107. Gerry MacLochlainn, interview with the author, Derry, 14 April 2003. 108. Brighton Troops Out Movement, Discussions and Questions with Daisy Mules in May 1985. 109. The statement ending the hunger strike, for instance, criticized the ‘treacherous’ part played by the Church and claimed its stance had been ‘extremely immoral and misleading’. See ‘Why we ended the hunger-strike’, AP/RN, 10 October 1981. 110. O’Callaghan, The Informer, p. 352. 111. Morrison, cited in ‘Ireland’s Intractable Crisis: Exclusive interviews with the UDA and Provisionals’, Marxism Today, December 1981, p. 32. 112. Adams, cited in ‘ “Shun Paisley” warning from Adams’, Irish News, 27 June 1986. 113. Sinn Féin, Sinn Féin Policy Document (Dublin, 1986) (LLPC), p. 19. 114. Ibid. 115. ‘Women’s issues hotly debated’, AP/RN, 7 November 1985. 116. Sinn Féin, The Politics of Revolution: The Main Speeches and Debates from the 1986 Sinn Féin Ard Fheis (Dublin, 1986) (LLPC), pp. 41–2. 117. E. Collins, Killing Rage (London, 1997), pp. 222–6. 118. Ibid., pp. 231–2. 119. Sinn Féin, Republican Lecture Series No.1a: Where Sinn Féin Stands (1979) (LLPC), p. 3. 120. E. Moloney, ‘Adams denies “Marxist” Tag’, Hibernia, 25 October 1979, p. 6. 121. Adams, ‘Presidential Address: Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 17 November 1983; Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 132. 122. E. Moloney, ‘Adams denies “Marxist” Tag’, Hibernia, 25 October 1979, p. 6 123. Adams, ‘Not just a “Brits Out” Movement’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism, p. 25. 124. Gerry MacLochlainn, interview with the author, Derry, 14 April 2003. 125. P. Bolger, ‘Which way forward in the Free State?’, Iris: The republican magazine, 7, November 1983, p. 7. Paddy Bolger was a southern republican who was, nonetheless, a close ally of the Adams-McGuinness leadership. 126. M. Tse-Tung, ‘On Guerrilla Warfare’, available at , last accessed 30 November 2006. Gerry Adams himself explicitly referred to Mao’s theory; see Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 58. 127. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 34. 128. McLaughlin, cited in O’Connor, In Search of a State, p. 40. 129. S. Delaney, ‘Building Community Confidence: Sinn Féin and Housing in Belfast: Interview with Sean Keenan’, Iris: The republican magazine, 9, December 1984, p. 47. 130. Ibid, p. 50. 131. Sinn Féin, Republican Lecture Series No.7: Social Agitation (1985) (LLPC). 132. Ibid. 133. M. O’Flannagain, Practical Steps Towards a Socialist Republic: Sinn Féin Internal Lecture (Dublin, 1980) (LLPC). 134. ‘ “We have now established a sort of Republican veto”: Michael Farrell interviews Gerry Adams MP, vice-president of Sinn Féin’, Magill, July 1983, p. 17. 135. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, 22 November 2005.

202 Notes 136. Morrison, cited in G. Kerrigan, ‘ “The IRA has to do what the IRA has to do”. Interview with Danny Morrison’, Magill, September 1984, p. 12. 137. P. Bew, E. Hazelkorn and H. Patterson, The Dynamics of Irish Politics (London, 1989), p. 121; see also T. Brown, Ireland: A Social and Cultural History, 1922–2002 (London, 2004), pp. 316–20. 138. Brown, Ireland, pp. 316–20. 139. H. Stevens, ‘An issue at last’, AP/RN, 26 September 1981; ‘Increasing interest and hopeful signs: British Labour Party Conference debates Ireland’, AP/RN, 3 October 1981. 140. S. Delaney, ‘Benn’s Challenge’, AP/RN, 30 May 1981. See also E. McCrory, ‘Hurtful truths from Benn’, AP/RN, 16 May 1981. 141. Ibid. 142. See ‘Visiting Belfast’, AP/RN, front page, 3 March 1983; ‘Sinn Féin in London’, AP/RN, front page, 28 July 1983. 143. Morrison referred to these talks in his 1984 interview with Magill: G. Kerrigan, ‘ “The IRA has to do what the IRA has to do”. Interview with Danny Morrison’, Magill, September 1984, p. 13. 144. The shift in the Labour Party’s approach to Northern Ireland that Kinnock oversaw, was noted at the time by the journalist, Kevin Toolis, in an article for the Irish Times. See K. Toolis, ‘British Labour rejects bigger NI role for Dublin’, Irish Times, 1 February 1985. 145. In the 1984 European Elections, Danny Morrison secured 13 per cent of the vote, compared to John Hume’s 22 per cent. Figures taken from ‘The 1984 European Elections’, ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. 146. Figures taken from Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 240. 147. Ibid. 148. Adams on Brass Tacks, BBC Radio 2, July 1984, cited in P. Bew and H. Patterson, The British State and the Ulster Crisis: From Wilson to Thatcher (London, 1985), p. 125. 149. Morrison, cited in G. Kerrigan, ‘“The IRA has to do what the IRA has to do”. Interview with Danny Morrison’, Magill, September 1984, p. 11; H. MacThomas, ‘Elections strategy outlined’, AP/RN, 2 May 1985. 150. Figure taken from Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 291. 151. ‘“We have now established a sort of Republican veto”: Michael Farrell interviews Gerry Adams MP, vice-president of Sinn Féin’, Magill, July 1983, p. 17.

2

Pan-Nationalism, Peace and the Political Mainstream, 1985–90 1. McLaughlin, cited in P. Shirlow and M. McGovern, ‘Language, discourse and dialogue: Sinn Féin and the Irish peace process’, Political Geography, 17(2) (February 1998), p. 180. 2. D. Morrison, ‘Successful Intervention: Electoral goal achieved’, Iris: The republican magazine, 10, July 1985, pp. 10–11. 3. In the 1985 Northern Ireland local government elections, Sinn Féin took 11 per cent of the vote, to the SDLP’s 18 per cent. Figures taken from ‘The 1985 Local Government Elections’, ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006.

Notes

203

4. For further detail on the New Ireland Forum, see Murray and Tonge, Sinn Féin and the SDLP, pp. 118–36. 5. Hume, cited in E. Staunton, The Nationalists of Northern Ireland, 1918–1973 (Dublin, 2001), p. 279. 6. Mallon, cited in G. Murray, John Hume and the SDLP: Impact and Survival in Northern Ireland (Dublin, 1998), p. 139. 7. ‘Thatcher boosts IRA: SDLP hypocrisy exposed as secret meetings revealed’, AP/RN, 26 September 1981. 8. Adams, Hope and History, p. 36. 9. Adams, cited in Interview Transcription of Gerry Adams and John Hume on Behind the Headlines, BBC Radio (1985) (LLPC). 10. Ibid. 11. For fuller details of these exchanges, see Murray, John Hume and the SDLP, pp. 161–4. 12. Adams, Hope and History, p. 37. 13. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 105. 14. Sinn Féin, The Hillsborough Agreement: Text of Bobby Sands Commemorative Lecture given by Danny Morrison, Twinbrook, Belfast, 4 May 1986 (Belfast, 1986) (LLPC), pp. 9–10. 15. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 July 2006. 16. Sinn Féin, The Hillsborough Agreement: Text of Bobby Sands Commemorative Lecture given by Danny Morrison, Twinbrook, Belfast, 4 May 1986 (Belfast, 1986) (LLPC), pp. 14–15. 17. Sinn Féin, Annual Wolfe Tone Commemoration, Bodenstown, 22 June 1986, Speech of Martin McGuinness (1986) (LLPC), p. 3. The SDLP had opposed the introduction of internment in 1971 and, indeed, it was their opposition to this measure that helped prompt the collapse of the Stormont assembly. See Feeney, Sinn Féin, pp. 270–1. 18. ‘Sinn Féin ban?’, AP/RN, front page, 23 July 1987. 19. Morrison, cited in M. Strong, ‘Playboys: Making war not love. Playboy Interview: The IRA’, Magill, March 1989, p. 32 (this article originally appeared in Playboy). 20. Murray and Tonge, Sinn Féin and the SDLP, p. 156. 21. O’Callaghan, The Informer, p. 285. 22. ‘Anglo-Irish Agreement 1985 between The Government of Ireland and The Government of the United Kingdom’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 31 October 2006. 23. Murray, John Hume and the SDLP, pp. 152–4. 24. G. Adams, ‘Freedom – much more than the right to vote?: Speech given during a speaking tour of the 26 Counties, April 1988’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism, p. 5. 25. Ibid., p. 7. 26. G. Adams, ‘A Bus Ride to Independence and Socialism: Speech given to Sinn Féin Internal Conference, 1986’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism, p. 16. 27. Ibid., p. 15. 28. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 135. 29. Adams, ‘Labour cannot wait!’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism; Adams, cited in ‘“What’s on the agenda now is an end to partition”: Interview with Gerry Adams’, Irish Times, 10 December 1986.

204 Notes 30. ‘SDLP fear polls’, AP/RN, front page, 3 October 1981; P. Dowling, ‘Many months of manoeuvres successfully negotiated’, AP/RN, 10 October 1981; ‘Why we ended the hunger strike’, AP/RN, 10 October 1981. 31. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 154. 32. M. O’Muilleor, ‘Real Politics – An Urban View’ (speech given to Sinn Féin Internal Six County Conference, Belfast, 25 June 1988) (LLPC). 33. Ibid. 34. Adams, cited in M. Strong, ‘Playboys: Making war not love. Playboy Interview: The IRA’, Magill, March 1989, p. 33; Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 135. 35. A. Nic Mùrcàdà, ‘Aine Nic Mùrcàdà’, in M. Collins (ed.), Ireland after Britain (London, 1985), p. 95. 36. See, for instance, Nuacht Feirste, 2(13), 18 May 1987. 37. D. O Dufaigh, ‘The Cultural Reconquest of Ireland’, AP/RN, 19 February 1987. 38. See, for instance, Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, pp. 132–6. 39. S. Hick, ‘Towards a Mass Movement’, Iris Bheag, 18, February 1989. 40. ‘Armstrong’, ‘Broad Front Bullshit’, Iris Bheag, 18, February 1989. 41. ‘Morrigan’, ‘The Dual Task: Internal Politicisation, External Mass Mobilisation’, Iris Bheag, 2, 1987, p. 5. 42. Sinn Féin, Republican Lecture Series No.1a: Where Sinn Féin Stands (1979) (LLPC), p. 3. 43. Adams, cited in B. Fletcher Jnr, ‘Interview with Sinn Féin President, Gerry Adams’, Monthly Review: An Independent Socialist Magazine, May 1989, p. 22. 44. Ibid. 45. ‘Ballots and Bombs: Electoral tactics complement armed struggle’, AP/RN, 18 February 1982. 46. G. Adams, ‘Presidential Address: Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 17 November 1983. 47. ‘Why a broad front?’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference on 26 Counties, Dublin, 18/19 May 1991) (LLPC). 48. J. Monaghan, ‘Republicanising the Social and Economic Struggle’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference, Dublin, 7/8 May 1988) (LLPC). 49. T. Hartley, ‘Towards a Broader Base?’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference, Dublin, 7/8 May 1988) (LLPC). 50. ‘Towards a Mass Movement’, Iris Bheag, 17, January 1989, p. 5. 51. ‘Towards a Mass Movement’, AP/RN, 2 February 1989; ‘Broad Front Strategy Re-Affirmed’, AP/RN, 7 February 1991. 52. P. Ferguson, ‘Behind the Betrayal’, The Blanket, 22 May 2005, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. 53. Anthony McIntyre, interview with the author, Belfast, 6 January 2004. 54. Adams, ‘A Bus Ride to Independence and Socialism’, in Signposts to Independence and Socialism, p. 13; ‘Towards a Mass Movement’, Iris Bheag, 17, January 1989, p. 6. 55. For more on the MacBride Principles, see A. Wilson, Irish America and the Ulster Conflict 1968–1995 (Belfast, 1995), pp. 268–77. 56. Sinn Féin, Statement by Gerry Adams on the MacBride Principles (n.d., mid-1980s) (LLPC). 57. ‘Refusing to go back on their knees’, AP/RN, 12 October 1989. 58. ‘Principles or empty promises?’, AP/RN, 7 May 1987. See also J. Plunkett, ‘Job Discrimination – No Change’, AP/RN, 19 March 1987. 59. Sinn Féin, Ard Fheis Clar agus Ruin 1984 (Dublin, 1984) (LLPC), Motions 83–7, p. 17.

Notes

205

60. Sinn Féin, Annual Wolfe Tone Commemoration, Bodenstown, 22 June 1986, Speech of Martin McGuinness (1986) (LLPC), p. 3. 61. For more on Fianna Fáil’s handling of the extradition issue, see S. Collins, The Power Game: Ireland under Fianna Fáil (Dublin, 2001), pp. 183–4. 62. ‘Towards a Mass Movement’, Iris Bheag, 17, January 1989, p. 6. 63. ‘No Extradition to British Injustice’, AP/RN, front page, 4 February 1988; ‘Extradition: Time is Running Out’, AP/RN, 30 July 1987. 64. ‘Doing Britain’s dirty work’, AP/RN, front page, 26 November 1987. See also, ‘A Judgement against us all’, AP/RN, front page, 21 January 1988; ‘Don’t hand them over’, AP/RN, front page, 9 June 1988; ‘Mobilise: Free Robert Russell, Smash Extradition’, AP/RN, front page, 18 August 1988; ‘Thatcher Hopping Mad: Anti-Extradition Victory’, AP/RN, front page, 15 March 1990; ‘Third Victory for Anti-Extradition Campaign’, AP/RN, front page, 12 April 1990; ‘Dessie Ellis – political hostage’, AP/RN, front page, 19 July 1990; ‘Hunger Strike’, AP/RN, front page, 11 October 1990; ‘Act now – before it’s too late’, AP/RN, front page, 18 October 1990; ‘Let Dessie Ellis live’, AP/RN, 1 November 1990; ‘Haughey’s Shame’, AP/RN, front page, 15 November 1990. 65. ‘Doing Britain’s dirty work’, AP/RN, front page, 26 November 1987; ‘Mobilise: Free Robert Russell, Smash Extradition’, AP/RN, front page, 18 August 1988. 66. Adams, speaking to the 1989 Sean Sabhat Commemoration, cited in ‘Heroism and Hypocrisy: Adams slams FF at Sabhat Commemoration’, AP/RN, 12 January 1989. 67. T. Hartley, ‘Towards a Broader Base?’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference, Dublin, 7/8 May 1988) (LLPC). 68. Ibid. 69. T. O’Dwyer, ‘Handling hot potatoes’, AP/RN, 12 April 1990. 70. B. Hayes and I. McAllister, ‘British and Irish public opinion towards the Northern Ireland problem’, Irish Political Studies, 11 (1996), pp. 76–9. 71. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 July 2006. What the republican leadership appeared to ignore was the fact that the majority desire for Irish unity was, for the most part, expressed only as an aspiration. 72. ‘Our vision sees past partition and poverty – our struggle remains intact: Gerry Adams Presidential Address, 86th Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 7 February 1991. 73. Adams, cited in M. Strong, ‘Playboys: Making war not love. Playboy Interview: The IRA’, Magill, March 1989, p. 33. 74. Morrison, cited in M. Strong, ‘Playboys: Making war not love. Playboy Interview: The IRA’, Magill, March 1989, p. 34. 75. At the previous general election in the Republic of Ireland (in February 1987), the party had won a mere 1.7 per cent of the vote. Figure taken from Feeney, Sinn Féin, p. 336. 76. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 July 2006. 77. T. Hartley, ‘Towards a Broader Base?’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference, Dublin, 7/8 May 1988) (LLPC). 78. ‘A Scenario for Peace: A Discussion Paper’, AP/RN, 7 May 1987. 79. Ibid. 80. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 298. 81. With regards to the UN and international law, specific reference was made to: the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights; the International Covenant

206 Notes

82. 83. 84.

85.

86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93. 94. 95. 96.

97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108. 109. 110.

on Economic Social and Cultural Rights; the Declaration on Principles of International Law Concerning Friendly Relations and Co-operation Among States in Accordance with the Charter of the United Nations; and the Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries. See ‘A Scenario for Peace: A Discussion Paper’, AP/RN, 7 May 1987. Ibid. Adams, Hope and History, p. 15. G. Adams, Peace in Ireland: A Broad Analysis of the Present Situation (1976) (LLPC); Adams later reiterated his arguments in relation to Danny Lennon in his 1986 work, The Politics of Irish Freedom. See Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, pp. 60–1. McLaughlin, cited in P. Shirlow and M. McGovern, ‘Language, discourse and dialogue: Sinn Féin and the Irish peace process,’ Political Geography, 17(2) (February 1998), p. 180. See above, p. 47. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 August 2003. Adams, cited in Smith, Fighting for Ireland?, p. 180. Adams, cited in Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 343. ‘Come off it Haughey!’, AP/RN, 4 November 1982; G. Adams, ‘Presidential Address: Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 17 November 1983. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 22 November 2005. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 277–9. ‘Easter Statement 1981’, AP/RN, 25 April 1981; P. Dowling, ‘The despicable role of Charles Haughey’, AP/RN, 13 June 1981. Most famously, for example, Haughey described Northern Ireland as a ‘failed entity’. Cited in Brown, Ireland, p. 325. Adams, cited in Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 268. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 269. A full copy of the letter can be found in the appendices to the revised edition of Ed Moloney’s book. See Letter from Father Alec Reid to Charles Haughey 11 May 2007, available in E. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, 2nd edn (London, 2007), pp. 615–630. Adams, Hope and History, p. 36. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 277–9. Ibid., pp. 224–6, 238–40, 245. Ibid., p. 270. Ibid., p. 273. Ibid., p. 280. Patterson, The Politics of Illusion, p. 255; Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 423. Adams, Hope and History, p. 32. Ibid. Adams, cited in M. Strong, ‘Playboys: Making war not love. Playboy Interview: The IRA’, Magill, March 1989, pp. 32 and 42. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, pp. 65–6. Brooke, cited in E. Mallie and D. McKittrick, The Fight for Peace: Secret Story Behind the Irish Peace Process (London, 1997), p. 99. McGuinness, cited in ibid., p. 101. See ‘Sinn Féin Internal Conference on 26 Counties, Dublin, 18/19 May 1991’ (LLPC). This comment can be found at the back of the document among various notes made by Hartley while at the conference.

Notes

207

111. See ‘Sinn Féin Internal Conference on 26 Counties, Dublin, 18/19 May 1991’ (LLPC). This comment can be found at the back of the document among various notes made by Hartley while at the conference. 112. ‘After Enniskillen: Interview with Gerry Adams’, AP/RN, 19 November 1987. 113. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 22 November 2005. 114. J. Monaghan, ‘Republicanising the Social and Economic Struggle’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference, Dublin, 7/8 May 1988) (LLPC). 115. ‘After Enniskillen: Interview with Gerry Adams’, AP/RN, 19 November 1987. 116. ‘“The IRA – They’re Everywhere”’, AP/RN, front page, 5 May 1988; ‘“We will meet force with force” – IRA’, AP/RN, front page, 5 January 1989. See also ‘Take Cover!’, AP/RN, front page, 19 March 1987; ‘IRA Blitz’, AP/RN, front page, 26 March 1987; ‘IRA blasts Paras’, AP/RN, front page, 23 February 1989; ‘IRA bombs Marines’, AP/RN, front page, 28 September 1989. 117. ‘Deal Attack: An integral part of IRA strategy’, AP/RN, 28 September 1989. 118. Ibid. 119. ‘“We have now established a sort of Republican veto”: Michael Farrell interviews Gerry Adams MP, vice-president of Sinn Féin’, Magill, July 1983, p. 17. 120. Ibid. 121. Morrison, cited in G. Kerrigan, ‘“The IRA has to do what the IRA has to do”. Interview with Danny Morrison’, Magill, September 1984, p. 14. 122. Maillot, New Sinn Féin, pp. 17–18. 123. Sinn Féin, Republican Lecture Series No.1a: Where Sinn Féin Stands (1979) (LLPC), p. 2. 124. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, London, 12 March 2005. 125. See B. Lynn, ‘Tactic or Principle? The evolution of republican thinking on abstentionism in Ireland, 1970–1998’, Irish Political Studies, 17(2) (2002), pp. 74–94; Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 287–97. 126. Hartley, cited in ‘Electoral Strategy’, AP/RN, 7 November 1985. 127. Sinn Féin, The Politics of Revolution: The Main Speeches and Debates from the 1986 Sinn Féin Ard Fheis (Dublin, 1986) (LLPC). 128. R. White, Provisional Irish Republicans: An Oral and Interpretive History (Westport, 1993), p. 160. 129. L. O’Ruairc, The League of Communist Republicans, 2001, available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. 130. Gerry MacLochlainn, interview with the author, Derry, 14 April 2003. 131. For more on this, see P. Farrelly, ‘An Upheaval in NORAID’, Irish America, January 1990. 132. Wilson, Irish America and the Ulster Conflict 1968–1995, p. 280. 133. Others included Sean Adams and Siobhan O’Hanlon. See P. Farrelly, ‘An Upheaval in NORAID’, Irish America, January 1990. 134. G. Adams, ‘“Britain will not beat us” thousands pledge at Bodenstown: Annual Wolfe Tone Commemoration, Bodenstown’, AP/RN, 29 June 1989. 135. See, for instance, the Sinn Féin-produced, localized news-sheets, Lagan Valley Bulletin and Iris Dhoire: The Alternative Voice, which offer an insight into the party’s work on issues such as: the availability of social security benefits (Lagan Valley Bulletin, April 1988); local job creation (Lagan Valley Bulletin, April 1989); and unemployment (Iris Dhoire: The Alternative Voice, 2, September 1990). 136. See, for instance, ‘CPAD successes’, AP/RN, 30 July 1987; ‘Challenge to Pushers and Government’, AP/RN, 24 September 1987; ‘The Price of Protest’, AP/RN, 6 April 1989; ‘Renewed campaign against pushers’, AP/RN, 7 September 1989;

208 Notes

137. 138.

139. 140. 141. 142. 143. 144. 145. 146. 147. 148. 149. 150. 151. 152. 153. 154.

155.

156. 157. 158.

159. 160.

‘Anti-drugs champions vindicated’, AP/RN, 1 February 1990; ‘The Resurgent Drugs Menace – Where do we go from here?’, AP/RN, 16 May 1991; ‘Free the Concerned Parents’, AP/RN, 1 June 1989. Sinn Féin, Twinbrook Sinn Féin Information Leaflet (n.d.) (LLPC). See, for instance, ‘No-go areas for “hoods”’, AP/RN, 19 January 1989; S. Delaney, ‘The “Hoods” and the RUC’, AP/RN, 16 November 1989; ‘Drug dealers target young nationalists’, AP/RN, 10 October 1991. S. Delaney, ‘The “Hoods” and the RUC’, AP/RN, 16 November 1989; ‘Defending the community: IRA interview’, AP/RN, 19 December 1991. ‘Tonto’, ‘The Internal Conference – Some Reflections’, Iris Bheag, 1, 1987, p. 5. J. McAllister, ‘Mainstream Politics’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference, Dublin, 7/8 May 1988) (LLPC). G. Adams, ‘The Politics of Revolution: Presidential Address to the 1986 Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 6 November 1986. Figure taken from Feeney, Sinn Féin, p. 336; Adams, cited in ‘Hard work ahead: Interview with Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams’, AP/RN, 26 February 1987. ‘No Short Cuts’, AP/RN, front page, 19 February 1987. ‘Iris Bheag’, Iris Bheag, 1, 1987. M. O’Muilleor, ‘Real Politics – An Urban View’ (speech given to Sinn Féin Internal Six County Conference, Belfast, 25 June 1988) (LLPC). ‘Health Cuts: This is [sic] the instructions sent out to the Comhairle Ceantair’, Iris Bheag, 1, 1987, p. 3. ‘Fianna Fáil Thatcherism: Unemployment, Emigration, Cutbacks’, AP/RN, front page, 15 October 1987. ‘Health Cuts: This is [sic] the instructions sent out to the Comhairle Ceantair’, Iris Bheag, 1, 1987, p. 3. Sinn Féin, 84th Ard Fheis Clar agus Ruin 1989 (Dublin, 1989) (LLPC), Motions 85–9, pp. 83–7. Sinn Féin, 83rd Ard Fheis Clar agus Ruin 1987 (Dublin, 1987) (LLPC), Motions 7–30, pp. 17–33. Sinn Féin, Ard Fheis Clar agus Ruin 1984 (Dublin, 1984) (LLPC), Motions 192–7, pp. 40–1. J. McAllister, ‘Mainstream Politics’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference, Dublin, 7/8 May 1988) (LLPC). See, for instance, ‘Multinational Scrap-heap’, AP/RN, front page, 11 June 1987; ‘Fight the Cuts’, AP/RN, front page, 25 June 1987; ‘Haughey’s Thatcherism’, AP/RN, front page, 20 July 1989. The ongoing evolution of policy in this area led, in 1992, to the production of a comprehensive policy document on the subject: Sinn Féin, Women in Ireland (Dublin, 1992) (LLPC). ‘The real world’, AP/RN, front page, 5 February 1987. Adams, Hope and History, pp. 80 and 93–4. The party won 11.2 per cent of the vote, a slight decline on the 11.4 per cent won at the 1987 British general election and the 11.8 per cent won at the previous local government elections in 1985. Figures taken from ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. G. Adams, ‘“Britain will not beat us” thousands pledge at Bodenstown: Annual Wolfe Tone Commemoration, Bodenstown’, AP/RN, 29 June 1989. ‘How Sinn Féin really performed’, AP/RN, 25 May 1989.

Notes

209

161. Figure taken from ‘Toghchan Eorpach 15/06/1989’, Guthanphobail.net, available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. 162. G. Adams, ‘“Britain will not beat us” thousands pledge at Bodenstown: Annual Wolfe Tone Commemoration, Bodenstown’, AP/RN, 29 June 1989. 163. Figure taken from ‘Olltoghchan don 26u Dáil 15/06/1989’, Guthanphobail.net, available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. 164. For more on the ‘Tallaght Strategy’ of Fine Gael, see Collins, The Power Game, pp. 178–9. 165. The Workers’ Party won 4.2 per cent of the vote and seven seats at the 1989 Irish general election. See ‘Olltoghchan don 26u Dáil 15/06/1989’, Guthanphobail.net, available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. 166. G. Adams, ‘“Britain will not beat us” thousands pledge at Bodenstown: Annual Wolfe Tone Commemoration, Bodenstown’, AP/RN, 29 June 1989. 167. Ibid. 168. ‘Putting back the clock – A reply’, Iris Bheag, 22, September 1989, p. 5. 169. ‘How Sinn Féin really performed’, AP/RN, 25 May 1989. 170. McGuinness, cited in L. Clarke and K. Johnston, Martin McGuinness: From Guns to Government (Edinburgh, 2001), p. 175. 171. ‘“We will break Britain’s will” – IRA’, AP/RN, 17 August 1989.

3

Towards Negotiation and the ‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’, 1990–7 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8.

9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

14.

15.

Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 246–54. Ibid., p. 249. Ibid., p. 256. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, London, 12 March 2005. ‘Susini’, ‘Armed Struggle – A Strategical Imperative’ (unpublished work, 1990–1) (LLPC); Anthony McIntyre, interview with the author, Belfast, 6 January 2004. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. G. Adams, ‘Our struggle and our party have never faltered’, AP/RN, 27 February 1992. ‘Sinn Féin maps road to peace’, AP/RN, 20 February 1992. Feeney, Sinn Féin, pp. 377–80. Adams, Hope and History, p. 108. Sinn Féin, Towards a Lasting Peace (1992), available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. Sinn Féin, Annual Wolfe Tone Commemoration, Bodenstown, 21 June 1992, Speech of Jim Gibney (1992), available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. Sinn Féin, Annual Wolfe Tone Commemoration, Bodenstown, 20 June 1993, Address by Sinn Féin’s Martin McGuinness (1993), available at , last accessed 30 November 2006. ‘Britain holds key to peace’, AP/RN, 9 November 1989; ‘Sinn Féin presses peace proposal’, AP/RN, 23 November 1989.

210 Notes 16. ‘No cease-fires: No preconditions for talks’, AP/RN, 22 February 1990. 17. ‘ “We are totally committed to a real peace process”: Gerry Adams Interview, Part Two’, AP/RN, 12 September 1991. 18. Ibid. See also ‘ “Start real talks now” Adams’, AP/RN, front page, 4 July 1991; H. MacThomas, ‘Call for a new peace process’, AP/RN, 29 August 1991; ‘A ballot paper in one hand and a solution in the other’, AP/RN, 2 April 1992; ‘ “The Republican Struggle is the Force for Change”: Interview with Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams’, AP/RN, 15 October 1992. 19. M. McLaughlin, ‘Ceasefire should not be precondition for talks’, AP/RN, 10 September 1992. 20. ‘ “We will win and are set firmly to the task of achieving victory” – IRA: Interview with GHQ spokesperson, Óglaigh na hÉireann’, AP/RN, 28 June 1990. 21. See ‘War-Lord pays the price’, AP/RN, front page, 20 September 1990, which provides a list of IRA attacks on the mainland that year. See also, ‘ “End your futile war” – IRA tells British’, AP/RN, front page, 2 August 1990; ‘IRA bombs War Cabinet’, AP/RN, 14 February 1991; ‘London bombs put Ireland on to election agenda’, AP/RN, 5 March 1992. 22. For an example of the argument that republicans have engaged in ideological revisionism, see M. Ryan, War and Peace in Ireland: Britain and the IRA in the New World Order (London, 1994). 23. Martin McGuinness, cited in M. Cox, ‘The IRA ceasefire and the end of the Cold War’, International Affairs, 73(4) (1997), p. 685. 24. See, for instance, H. McThomas, ‘Neutral wins few converts’, Fortnight, 29(2) (February 1991); U. Gillespie, ‘The Political Realities and the Republican Analysis’, The Starry Plough, 1(1) (July 1991); H. McThomas, ‘What are the British doing in Ireland? An attempt at an answer’, The Starry Plough, 2(1) (February 1992). 25. H. McThomas, ‘Neutral wins few converts’, Fortnight, 29(2) (February 1991), p. 17. 26. Sinn Féin, ‘Speech by Sinn Féin Ard Chomhairle member, Martin McGuinness, to Sinn Féin Ard Fheis, 20 February 1993’, in Setting the Record Straight (Dublin, 1994) (LLPC). 27. M. McLaughlin, ‘Protestantism, Unionism and Loyalism’, The Starry Plough, 1(2) (November 1991), p. 16. The article was also published as M. McLaughlin, ‘Protestantism, Unionism and Loyalism’, Fingerpost, 5(3) (Spring/Summer 1992). 28. Ibid. 29. M. McLaughlin, ‘Unionist “Consent” in an agreed Ireland’, Fingerpost, 8 (1) (May 1994), p. 6. The article was also published as, M. McLaughlin, ‘Unionist “Consent” in an agreed Ireland’, The Starry Plough (February 1994) 4 (1). 30. M. McLaughlin, ‘Unionist “Consent” in an agreed Ireland’, Fingerpost, 8 (1) (May 1994), p. 8. 31. M. McLaughlin, ‘Protestantism, Unionism and Loyalism’, The Starry Plough, 1(2) (November 1991), p. 14. 32. G. Adams, ‘Our struggle and our party have never faltered’, AP/RN, 27 February 1992. 33. M. McLaughlin, ‘Unionist “Consent” in an agreed Ireland’, Fingerpost, 8(1) (May 1994), p. 8. 34. U. Gillespie, ‘The Political Realities and the Republican Analysis’, The Starry Plough, 1(1) (July 1991), p. 3. 35. Sinn Féin, Annual Bodenstown Speech 1995, Address by Sinn Féin’s Martin McGuinness, 18 June 1995 (1995), available at , last accessed 2 November 2006.

Notes

211

36. G. Adams, ‘Our vision sees past partition and poverty – our struggle remains intact: Gerry Adams Presidential Address to 86th Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 7 February 1991; Gibney, cited in Frontline Online, ‘The IRA and Sinn Féin: Interviews: Jim Gibney’, PBS, available at , last accessed 28 October 2006. 37. See above, p. 64. 38. Brooke, cited in T. Hennessey, The Northern Ireland Peace Process: Ending the Troubles? (Dublin, 2000), p. 69. 39. G. Adams, ‘Our vision sees past partition and poverty – our struggle remains intact: Gerry Adams Presidential Address to 86th Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 7 February 1991. 40. Morrison, Then the Walls Came Down, p. 235. 41. See above, pp. 74–5. 42. On the British side, the then prime minister, John Major, has testified to this in his autobiography. See J. Major, The Autobiography (London, 2000), p. 436. On the republican side, meanwhile, Sinn Féin has claimed that a new period of ‘protracted contact and dialogue’ began in 1990. See Sinn Féin, Setting the Record Straight (Dublin, 1994) (LLPC). 43. See, for example, M. Cox, ‘Northern Ireland after the Cold War’, in M. Cox, A. Guelke and F. Stephen (eds), A Farewell to Arms? From ‘Long War’ to Long Peace in Northern Ireland (Manchester, 2000), pp. 249–62. 44. Morrison, Then the Walls Came Down, p. 91. 45. A. Guelke, ‘ “Comparatively Peaceful”: South Africa, the Middle East and Northern Ireland’, in Cox, Guelke and Stephen (eds), A Farewell to Arms?, p. 227. 46. G. Adams, Selected Writings (Dingle, 1997), p. 278. 47. ‘Peacemaker’, AP/RN, front page, 5 July 1990. 48. ‘Blaming the Oppressed’, AP/RN, front page, 10 September 1992. See also, for example, ‘In Ireland and South Africa – Struggle is the Key’, AP/RN, 28 April 1994; N. Forde, ‘Path to a just peace in Ireland and South Africa’, AP/RN, 18 August 1994; ‘Parallels drawn between South Africa and Ireland’, AP/RN, 15 June 1995; ‘Post-Apartheid South Africa – Lessons for Ireland?’, AP/RN, 19 October 1995. 49. ‘Yesterday’s “Terrorist” . . . ’, AP/RN, 16 September 1993. 50. Ibid. 51. For further details on these cases see N. Mackay, ‘Why this man is Stakeknife’, Sunday Herald, 18 May 2003; R. Cowan, ‘Ex-spy handler fears for Stakeknife’s life’, Guardian, 19 May 2003; ‘Sinn Féin man admits he was an agent’, BBC News Online, 16 December 2005, available at , last accessed 31 October 2006; ‘Obituary: Denis Donaldson’, Daily Telegraph, 6 April 2006. 52. J. Holland and S. Phoenix, Phoenix: Policing the Shadows: The Secret War Against Terrorism in Northern Ireland (London, 1996), p. 391. 53. Ibid., p. 393. 54. Information and figures gathered from ‘Chronological List of Deaths’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. See also Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 318–19. 55. Information gathered from the CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 2 November 2006.

212 Notes 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66.

67. 68. 69.

70. 71. 72.

73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81.

82.

C. Crawford, Inside the UDA: Volunteers and Violence (London, 2003), p. 35. Adair, cited in Crawford, Inside the UDA, p. 167. Smith, Fighting for Ireland?, pp. 117–23. Cited in D. Morrison, ‘Taylor-made “Provos”’, AP/RN, 25 September 1997. Smith, Fighting for Ireland?, pp. 117–19. For further detail on the Shankill Road and Greysteel atrocities, see E. Mallie and D. McKittrick, Endgame in Ireland (London, 2001), pp. 141–6. Adams, cited in Hennessey, The Northern Ireland Peace Process, p. 39. Anonymous (confidential interview with former army officer), Belfast, 22 July 2006. Figures taken from Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 340. ‘Sinn Féin in the 26 Counties’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference on 26 Counties, Dublin, 18/19 May 1991) (LLPC), p. 5. Figures taken from ‘Westminster election, 9 April 1992’, ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. J. Gibney, ‘Sinn Féin – A slightly electoral party!’, The Starry Plough, 2(2) (1992), p. 13. For further details on this see D. Bloomfield, Political Dialogue in Northern Ireland: The Brooke Initiative, 1989–92 (London, 1998), pp. 11–63. Such nervousness can be seen in the extended coverage given to the Brooke talks process in An Phoblacht/Republican News, much of which called for Sinn Féin to be included in the talks, even as the paper disparaged their being held. See, for instance, H. McThomas, ‘Talks? What talks? Talks about what?’, AP/RN, 7 February 1991; H. McThomas, ‘British Ultimatum whips parties in to line’, AP/RN, 25 March 1991; H. McThomas, ‘The Brooke talks – whose guns under the table?’, AP/RN, 25 April 1991; ‘Unionists dictate agenda . . . Nationalists locked out’, AP/RN, front page, 9 May 1991. Morrison, Then the Walls Came Down, p. 239. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, London, 12 March 2005. See, for example, the debate within the prisoner-run journal, An Glor Gafa/Captive Voice, in 1991, which discussed the republican movement’s political problems at length: ‘Ten Years On’, An Glor Gafa/Captive Voice, 3(2), Summer 1991; M. O Treasaigh, ‘Organise for changing times – A reply to “Ten Years On”’, An Glor Gafa/Captive Voice, 3(3), Winter 1991. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 22 November 2005. McAuley, cited in R. Wilson, ‘Time for magnanimity’, Fortnight, September 1992, p. 5. The article was eventually printed in Morrison’s prison memoir: Morrison, Then the Walls Came Down, pp. 288–92. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 12 September 2006. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, London, 12 March 2005. O’Callaghan, The Informer, p. 337. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. See above, p. 74. Patterson, The Politics of Illusion, p. 253. See, for example, Mallie and McKittrick, The Fight for Peace, p. 295; R. MacGinty and J. Darby, Guns and Government: The Management of the Northern Ireland Peace Process (Basingstoke, 2002), p. 23. Patterson, The Politics of Illusion, p. 253; Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 423.

Notes

213

83. ‘TUAS Document’ (1994), provided in Mallie and McKittrick, The Fight for Peace, pp. 421–4. 84. Ibid. 85. See, for instance, A. Wilson, ‘From the Beltway to Belfast: The Clinton Administration, Sinn Féin and the Northern Ireland Peace Process’, New Hibernia Review, 1(3) (1997); C. O’Clery, The Greening of the White House (Dublin, 1996); and M. Frampton, ‘ “Squaring the Circle”: The Foreign Policy of Sinn Féin, 1983–2001 (unpublished MPhil dissertation, University of Cambridge, 2003). 86. TUAS Document. 87. Ibid. 88. Ibid. 89. Adams made a public appeal of this kind in his Presidential Speech to the 1991 Sinn Féin Ard Fheis. See G. Adams, ‘Tone’s demand and ours – Liberty, Equality, Fraternity’, AP/RN, 27 June 1991. 90. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 July 2006. 91. Adams, Hope and History, p. 116. 92. Ibid., p. 110. 93. Tom Hartley, interview with the author, Belfast, 27 March 2003. 94. See Bloomfield, Political Dialogue in Northern Ireland, p. 168. 95. Major, The Autobiography, pp. 438–9. 96. Sinn Féin, Towards a Lasting Peace (1992) (LLPC). 97. Adams, The Politics of Irish Freedom, p. 66. 98. Sinn Féin, Towards a Lasting Peace (1992) (LLPC). 99. Anthony McIntyre, interview with the author, Belfast, 6 January 2004. 100. The text of ‘Hume–Adams’ (and the various drafts leading to the creation of the final agreed document) can be found in Appendix I of Mallie and McKittrick, The Fight for Peace, pp. 411–20. 101. The June 1993 document is ‘Draft 11’ in Mallie and McKittrick, The Fight for Peace, p. 420. 102. Major, The Autobiography, pp. 449–50. 103. Phoenix, cited in Holland and Phoenix, Phoenix: Policing the Shadows, pp. 297–8. 104. Mallie and McKittrick, Endgame in Ireland, p. 149. 105. Patterson, The Politics of Illusion, p. 249. 106. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 July 2006. 107. P. Bew, P. Gibbon and H. Patterson, Northern Ireland 1921–2001: Political Forces and Social Classes (London, 2002), p. 221. 108. Major, cited in Mallie and McKittrick, Endgame in Ireland, p. 166. 109. Mallie and McKittrick, The Fight for Peace, pp. 271–2. 110. ‘Prisoners’ Address to Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, An Glor Gafa/Captive Voice, 6(1), Summer 1994, p. 10. 111. See, for instance, Sinn Féin, Speech by Martin McGuinness to the 1994 Sinn Féin Ard Fheis (1994) (LLPC); ‘Sinn Féin’s 20 questions’, AP/RN, 26 May 1994. 112. C. McAuley, ‘The Evolution of Sinn Féin’s Peace Strategy’, The Starry Plough (February 1994), p. 24. 113. Sinn Féin, Report on National Internal Delegate Conference 24 July 1994: Ard Chomhairle Motions (1994) (LLPC). 114. Anthony McIntyre, interview with the author, Belfast, 6 January 2004. 115. ‘Joint Declaration on Peace: The Downing Street Declaration, Wednesday (15 December 1993)’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available

214 Notes

116. 117.

118.

119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127.

128.

129. 130. 131.

132. 133. 134.

135. 136. 137.

at , last accessed 6 January 2007. For use of this phrase, see, for instance, ‘Peace Process will continue’, AP/RN, 28 July 1994. In the European election, for instance, the party won 2.4 per cent of the vote. Figure taken, ‘Toghchan Eorpach 09/06/1994’, Guthanphobail.net, available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. See, for example, ‘Sinn Féin makes advances in all-Ireland poll’, AP/RN, 16 June 1994; A. MacEoin, ‘Significant advances in the 26 Counties’, AP/RN, 16 June 1994. Sinn Féin, ‘Motion 2’, Report on National Internal Delegate Conference 24 July 1994: Ard Chomhairle Motions (1994) (LLPC). ‘Peace Process will continue’, AP/RN, 28 July 1994. ‘Seize the Moment for Peace: Historic announcement from Óglaigh na hÉireann’, AP/RN, front page, 1 September 1994. ‘Historic handshake’, AP/RN, front page, 8 September 1994. ‘Tide of History with nationalists’, AP/RN, front page, 27 October 1994. ‘TUAS Document’. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 424–5. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 1 September 2003. L. O Coileain, ‘Adams calls for immediate dialogue’, AP/RN, 8 September 1994; ‘Seize the Moment for Peace: Historic announcement from Óglaigh na hÉireann’, AP/RN, front page, 1 September 1994; ‘Process could flounder if Major doesn’t move’, AP/RN, front page, 6 October 1994. Sinn Féin, Annual Bodenstown Speech 1995, Address by Sinn Féin’s Martin McGuinness, 18 June 1995 (1995), available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. See, for example, O’Doherty, The Trouble with Guns, p. 192. Jeffrey Donaldson, cited in Hennessey, The Northern Ireland Peace Process, p. 110. While Sinn Féin had previously argued that the UDP should not be expelled from the talks (see, for instance, L. McKeown, ‘Scorn the Orange Card’, AP/RN, 22 January 1998), when this occurred (on 26 January 1998), the subsequent issue of An Phoblacht/Republican News carried little in the way of opposition to the move. Instead, it focused on the murders perpetrated by loyalist paramilitaries. See, for instance, ‘Sectarian Slaughter’, AP/RN, front page, 29 January 1998 and numerous other articles in that edition. See, for example, G. Adams, ‘Peace means justice – justice demands freedom’, AP/RN, 2 March 1995. Irish Foreign Minister, David Andrews, cited in ‘Andrews apologises but gulf remains’, Irish Independent, 2 December 1997. For a more prosaic assessment of the Frameworks documents, see P. Bew and G. Gillespie, The Northern Ireland Peace Process 1993–1996: A Chronology (London, 1996), pp. 87–8. See, for instance, the concern of John Major on this issue, as cited in Mallie and McKittrick, Endgame in Ireland, p. 202. K. Schulze and M.L.R. Smith, Dilemmas of Decommissioning (London, 1999), pp. 20–22. Adams, cited in Sharrock and Devenport, Man of War, Man of Peace, pp. 343–4.

Notes

215

138. See, for instance, ‘Republican community is unstoppable: Bobby Sands Memorial Lecture 1995 by Gerry Kelly’, AP/RN, 18 May 1995. 139. See, for example, ‘Graffiti: “Not a bullet, not an ounce – IRA”: Mural 236, Album 7’, Dr Jonathan McCormack’s Mural Directory, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 30 November 2006. 140. Sinn Féin, Annual Bodenstown Speech 1995, Address by Sinn Féin’s Martin McGuinness, 18 June 1995 (1995), available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. 141. Patterson, The Politics of Illusion, p. 258. 142. M. MacDonncha, ‘Many Challenges Ahead: Gerry Adams Interviewed’, AP/RN, 14 December 1995. 143. H. McThomas, ‘More Unionist than (some) Unionists’, AP/RN, 25 August 1994. See also, ‘Bruton’s Unionist agenda’, AP/RN, front page, 14 March 1996. 144. ‘Seize the Moment for Peace: Historic announcement from Óglaigh na hÉireann’, AP/RN, front page, 1 September 1994. 145. For further detail on the Kerr murder, see Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 433–4. 146. For more on this issue, see Rafter, Sinn Féin, 1905–2005, pp. 188–218. 147. R. Monaghan, ‘ “An Imperfect Peace”: Paramilitary “Punishments” in Northern Ireland’, Terrorism and Political Violence, 16(3) (Autumn 2004), pp. 450–4. 148. Ibid., p. 452. 149. Adams, cited in ‘ “They haven’t gone away, you know . . .” ’, AP/RN, 17 August 1995. 150. ‘TUAS Document’. 151. Ibid. 152. See D. Godson, Himself Alone: David Trimble and the Ordeal of Unionism (London, 2004), p. 203. 153. ‘ “Sinn Féin peace strategy is the right strategy” – Adams: Interview with Gerry Adams’, AP/RN, 22 February 1996. 154. For more on this, see Hennessey, The Northern Ireland Peace Process, pp. 100–1. 155. ‘Report of the International Body on Arms Decommissioning, 22 January 1996’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 12 January 2007. 156. Cited in E. Moloney, ‘War and Peace’, Irish Times, 5 February 2005. 157. ‘Sinn Féin repudiates killing of Garda’, AP/RN, 13 June 1996. For more on the murder of Garda McCabe, see Mallie and McKittrick, The Fight for Peace, pp. 373–4. 158. Adams expressed ‘regret and sympathy’ at the Manchester bombing, cited in R. Donnolly, ‘ “Revulsion for all that the bombers stand for” pervades Irish community’, Irish Times, 17 June 1996. 159. T. Blair, ‘Labour committed to finding settlement for North’, Irish Times, 28 April 1997. 160. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 461–2. 161. Ibid., pp. 468–79. 162. ‘New chance must be seized’, AP/RN, front page, 24 July 1997; ‘IRA calls complete cessation’, AP/RN, 24 July 1997. 163. See, for example, Martin McGuinness, cited in Sinn Féin, Annual Bodenstown Speech 1995, Address by Sinn Féin’s Martin McGuinness, 18 June 1995 (1995),

216 Notes available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. 164. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 July 1996. 165. Adams, cited in Mallie and McKittrick, The Fight for Peace, p. 353. 166. Clausewitz famously wrote that ‘War is merely the continuation of policy by other means’. See C. von Clausewitz, On War (ed. and trans. by M. Howard and P. Paret) (London, 1973), p. 99.

4

Confronting Unionism, Negotiation and Agreement, 1997–2001

1. Adams, cited in ‘Republicans want Agreement implemented: Gerry Adams Interviewed’, AP/RN, 8 July 1999. 2. Gerry MacLochlainn, interview with the author, Derry, 14 April 2003. 3. Molloy, cited in T. Harnden, ‘Talks under threat as IRA is primed’, Daily Telegraph, 17 November 1997. 4. Adams, cited in G. Moriarty, ‘The Sinn Féin project – to be top dog in Northern politics by 2006’, Irish Times, 6 June 2001. 5. Figure and results for 1997 election taken from ‘The 1997 Westminster elections in Northern Ireland’, ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. 6. Figure taken from ‘Olltoghchan don 28u Dáil 17/06/1997’, Guthanphobail.net, available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. 7. ‘One TD and Two MPs’, AP/RN, front page, 13 June 1997. 8. ‘Ferris hits the post’, AP/RN, 13 June 1997; N. Forde, ‘Voters’ verdict cannot be ignored’, AP/RN, 13 June 1997. 9. Democratic Left won 2.4 per cent of the vote nationally, while the Workers’ Party won only 0.4 per cent. Figures taken from ‘Olltoghchan don 28u Dáil 17/06/1997’, Guthanphobail.net, available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. 10. For further detail on the split that led to the creation of the ‘Real’ IRA/32 County Sovereignty Movement faction, see Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 473– 9; J. Mooney and M. O’Toole, Black Operations: The Secret War Against the Real IRA (Ashbourne, 2003), pp. 21–42. 11. ‘TUAS Document’. 12. ‘Everyone is involved in negotiations’, AP/RN, 11 September 1997. 13. Adams, Hope and History, pp. 367–8. 14. Hennessey, The Northern Ireland Peace Process, p. 55. 15. J. Ruane and J. Todd, ‘The Belfast Agreement: Context, Content, Consequences’, in J. Ruane and J. Todd, After the Good Friday Agreement: Analysing Political Change in Northern Ireland (Dublin, 1999), p. 11. 16. ‘IRA blames Blair for Crisis’, AP/RN, front page, 22 January 1998; M. MacRuairi, ‘A sop to unionists’, AP/RN, 15 January 1998. 17. Bew and Gillespie, The Northern Ireland Peace Process 1993–1996, p. 12. 18. P. Bew, Ireland: The Politics of Enmity 1789–2006 (Oxford, 2007), p. 549. 19. Morrison, Then the Walls Came Down, pp. 96–7. 20. H. McThomas, ‘Objectives of the unarmed struggle’, AP/RN, 8 September 1994. 21. H. McThomas, ‘Divided forces of Unionism’, AP/RN, 20 October 1994.

Notes

217

22. M. McLaughlin, ‘The Irish Republican Ideal’, in N. Porter (ed.), The Republican Ideal: Current Perspectives (Belfast, 1998), pp. 78–9. 23. Ibid. 24. See above. pp. 78–9. 25. An example of the new language of ‘outreach’ to Unionists was provided by Alex Maskey, who became the first Sinn Féin mayor of Belfast in 2002. See, for example, Sinn Féin, The Memory of the Dead: Seeking Common Ground! Speech by Alex Maskey, Mayor of Belfast, 26 June 2002 (2002) (LLPC). 26. Finlay, cited in Mallie and McKittrick, Endgame in Ireland, p. 237. 27. Godson, Himself Alone, pp. 326–34, 347. 28. ‘The IRA’s response’, AP/RN, front page, 30 April 1998. 29. G. Adams, ‘Having to seek equality in grief’, AP/RN, 28 January 1999. 30. ‘The Agreement: Agreement reached in the multi-party negotiations (10 April 1998)’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 31 October 2006. 31. G. Adams, ‘Our vision sees past partition and poverty – our struggle remains intact: Gerry Adams Presidential Address, 86th Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 7 February 1991. 32. ‘The Agreement: Agreement reached in the multi-party negotiations (10 April 1998)’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 31 October 2006. 33. Sinn Féin, Speech by Pat Doherty, Sinn Féin Vice-President, for 80th Anniversary of 1916 Rising, Belfast, 7 April 1996 (1996) (LLPC). See also, ‘“No return to Stormont” – IRA: Easter Message from Óglaigh na hÉireann’, AP/RN, front page, 4 April 1996; G. Kelly, ‘There can be no return to Stormont’, AP/RN, 16 May 1996. 34. Francie Molloy, cited in L. Clarke and M. Jones, ‘Trimble shows more flexibility over IRA arms’, Sunday Times, 28 March 1999. 35. Bew, Ireland, p. 550. 36. Murray and Tonge, Sinn Féin and the SDLP, pp. 198–201. 37. See, for example, Anthony McIntyre, as cited in English, Armed Struggle, p. 319; Bernadette Sands-McKevitt, as cited in English, Armed Struggle, p. 317. 38. ‘SF membership to decide’, AP/RN, front page, 16 April 1998. 39. Adams, Hope and History, p. 371. 40. Conor Murphy, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 March 2004. 41. Adams, Hope and History, p. 369. 42. M. MacDonncha, ‘Untried paths – strange vistas’, AP/RN, 16 April 1998. 43. ‘United we stand’, AP/RN, front page, 7 May 1998; ‘Forward in unity’, AP/RN, 7 May 1998. 44. See, for instance, ‘The futile path of militarism: Sabotage against Irish republicanism’, AP/RN, 20 August 1998. 45. J. Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 1 September 2003. 46. See, for instance, Hennessey, The Northern Ireland Peace Process, pp. 145–9, 153; Murray and Tonge, Sinn Féin and the SDLP, pp. 199, 213. 47. ‘Our prisoners come home’, AP/RN, front page, 17 December 1998. 48. Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 480–3. 49. P. Whelan, ‘Unbowed . . . Unbroken’, AP/RN, 14 May 1998. 50. 331 delegates, out of a total of 350 at the ard fheis, voted in favour of the Agreement. See N. Kelly, ‘Focused and imaginative debate’, AP/RN, 14 May 1998.

218 Notes 51. T. Hartman, ‘Talking the Gun out of Irish Politics: Framing the Peace Process’, unpublished MA dissertation, San Francisco State University, 2003. 52. Sinn Féin, Annual Bodenstown Speech 1998, Address by Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams, 21 June 1998 (1998), available at , last accessed 2 November 2006. 53. G. Adams, ‘Having to seek equality in grief’, AP/RN, 28 January 1999. 54. Collins, cited in T. P. Coogan, Michael Collins: A Biography (London, 1990), p. 301; B. Campbell, ‘Not a solution, but the potential for a solution’, AP/RN, 9 April 1998. 55. J. Cusack, ‘Support for deal is growing among IRA rank and file’, Irish Times, 25 April 1998. 56. ‘A new arena of struggle’, AP/RN, front page, 17 September 1998. 57. Adams, Hope and History, p. 367. 58. Anthony McIntyre, interview with the author, Belfast, 6 January 2004. 59. See, for example, G. Adams, ‘Change needed for North’s transition’, Irish Times, 13 March 1998. 60. ‘Ready for Government’, AP/RN, front page, 18 June 1998. 61. For more on Collins’ view of the Treaty, see English, Armed Struggle, p.31; Coogan, Michael Collins, p. 319. 62. This poster was observed by the author when at Parliament Buildings, Stormont, in July and August 2002. 63. C. Carney, ‘Was Michael Collins a Provo?’, AP/RN, 29 November 1990. 64. Ibid. 65. M. MacDonncha, ‘To hell and back: Jordan’s Collins makes big impact’, AP/RN, 31 October 1996. 66. M. Derrig, ‘Michael Collins’ Unfinished Revolution’, AP/RN, 21 October 1999. 67. Ibid. 68. ‘The South African lesson: Be vigilant, debate and stay united’, AP/RN, 23 April 1998. 69. Cited in A. Guelke, ‘Ireland and South Africa: A Very Special Relationship’, Irish Studies in International Affairs, 11 (2000), p. 139. 70. M. McGuinness, ‘Negotiating an Agenda for Change: Keynote address on Negotiations and Agreement to Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 23 April 1998. 71. Ibid.; ‘The IRA’s response’, AP/RN, front page, 30 April 1998. 72. ‘Tomorrow we start to build the future: Address by Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams at Sunday’s Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 14 May 1998; McLaughlin, ‘The Irish Republican Ideal’ in Porter (ed.), The Republican Ideal, pp. 75–7. 73. See, for instance, McLaughlin, ‘The Irish Republican Ideal’, in Porter (ed.), The Republican Ideal, p. 75. The same line of reasoning was present in another McLaughlin article, this time for the Irish Times: M. McLaughlin, ‘Debate must accept united Ireland question’, Irish Times, 31 October 1997. 74. L. Friel, ‘Now you see it, now you don’t: The unionist majority, the census and the electoral register’, AP/RN, 16 January 2003. 75. See, for example, ‘SF’s bold initiative: Way clear for Executive and All-Ireland bodies’, AP/RN, front page, 3 September 1998; G. Adams, ‘The Agreement says: Now form the Executive and All-Ireland Council’, AP/RN, 14 January 1999; ‘March deadline must be met’, AP/RN, front page, 25 February 1999. 76. ‘New Era of Hope’, AP/RN, front page, 16 December 1999. 77. ‘The struggle continues’, AP/RN, front page, 14 May 1998. 78. Ibid.; ‘Prepare for the next phase of struggle’, AP/RN, 14 May 1998.

Notes

219

79. ‘A New Arena of Struggle’, AP/RN, front page, 17 September 1998. 80. B. Campbell, ‘Not a solution, but the potential for a solution’, AP/RN, 9 April 1998. 81. Morrison, Then the Walls Came Down, p. 239. 82. A. McIntyre, ‘The Imperfect Peace: Terence O’Neill’s Day Has Come’, The Blanket, 19 August 2004, available at , last accessed 6 November 2006. 83. A. McIntyre, ‘The Enforcers’, The Blanket, 27 February 2004, available at , last accessed 6 November 2006. 84. A. McIntyre, ‘Sinn Féin has no alternative to British rule’, The Sunday Tribune, 14 November 1999. 85. Anthony McIntyre, interview with the author, Belfast, 6 January 2004. 86. For Kelly’s role in the birth of the Provisional IRA and then the ‘Arms Trial’, see Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, pp. 70–3, 265–6. 87. John Kelly, interview with the author, Belfast, 8 July 2004. 88. Ibid. 89. For more on Donaldson’s role in this regard see, ‘Obituary: Denis Donaldson’, Daily Telegraph, 6 April 2006; A. McIntyre, ‘Intimidation continues in Rathenraw’, The Blanket, 15 October 2004, available at , last accessed 6 November 2006. 90. Cunningham, cited in A. McIntyre, ‘Sinn Féin, A Dictatorship: Martin Cunningham Interviewed. Part Three in a Series’, The Blanket, 21 March 2004, available at , last accessed 6 November 2006. 91. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 1 September 2003. 92. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 September 2003. 93. John Kelly, interview with the author, Belfast, 8 July 2004. 94. ‘Prepare for the next phase of struggle’, AP/RN, 14 May 1998. 95. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. 96. J. Gibney, ‘Ambiguity: Oiling Wheels of Progress’, AP/RN, 17 April 2003. 97. A. McIntyre, ‘The Police Process’, The Blanket, 30 June 2004, available at , last accessed 6 November 2006. 98. See above, p. 83. 99. ‘Furthering the revolutionary project’, AP/RN, 2 July 1998. 100. Mao, for instance, argued that the maintenance of discipline within a revolutionary party required that ‘(1) the individual is subordinate to the organization’ and ‘(2) the minority is subordinate to the majority’. See M. Tse-Tung, ‘The role of the Chinese Communist Party in the National War’, in M. Tse-Tung, Selected Works, vol. II (1983), pp. 203–4. 101. For a definition of this term, see ‘Democratic Centralism’, Britannica Online Encyclopedia, available at , last accessed 30 November 2006. 102. A. McIntyre, ‘Liam Kenendy and West Belfast’, The Blanket, 2 May 2005, available at , last accessed 6 November 2006. 103. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 September 2003. 104. E. Rooney, ‘Sinn Féin and Socialism’, Left Republican Review, 3 (March 2001), pp. 10–11.

220 Notes 105. G. Cusak, ‘Dialogue: A casualty of this imperfect peace?’, Left Republican Review, 3 (March 2001), pp. 18–9. 106. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 September 2003. 107. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 1 September 2003. 108. Sinn Féin, Ard Fheis Clar agus Ruin 2004 (Dublin, 2004) (LLPC), Motions 130–1, p. 12. Motion 130 calling for the party to attend the World Social Forum was passed. Motion 129, which called for a boycott of the World Economic Forum, was also passed and an attempted amendment to it from the party ard chomhairle was defeated. See also ‘An alternative globalisation is possible’, AP/RN, 4 March 2004. 109. For more on this, see below, pp. 148–9. 110. ‘Sinn Féin suspends veteran member’, BBC News Online, 23 November 2005, available at , last accessed 6 November 2006. 111. ‘Molloy allowed to re-join Sinn Féin’, Irish Independent, 13 January 2006. 112. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 1 September 2003. 113. Gerry Kelly, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 March 2004; see above, p. 15. 114. E. O’Broin, ‘Changing Times’, Left Republican Review, 1 (July 2000). In this article, O’Broin argued that the movement needed to evolve away from the tight leadership control that had been necessary in the past. The latter quote, by contrast, was taken from a personal interview: Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 September 2003. 115. For aggregate results of the referendums in the Republic and Northern Ireland respectively, see ‘The 1998 Referendums’, ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. For estimates of the breakdown of the results, according to community, see ‘Results of the Referenda in Northern Ireland and Republic of Ireland, Friday 22 May 1998’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. 116. Ibid. 117. Godson, Himself Alone, pp. 371–803; F. Millar, David Trimble: The Price of Peace (Dublin, 2004), pp. 65–81, 156–8. 118. ‘Agreement must now be implemented’, AP/RN, 3 September 1998. 119. See, for instance, ‘Keep your word: SF push for full implementation of Agreement’, AP/RN, front page, 1 October 1998; ‘Crisis Deepens’, AP/RN, front page, 15 October 1998; ‘Executive must be formed’, AP/RN, front page, 3 December 1998; ‘Implement the Agreement’, AP/RN, 7 January 1999; ‘Interview with Gerry Adams: Republicans want Agreement implemented’, AP/RN, 8 July 1999; ‘Implement the Agreement’, AP/RN, front page, 24 February 2000. 120. See C. Ó Caoláin, ‘British indulge unionist intransigence’, AP/RN, 10 February 2000; S. Brady, ‘The Agreement cannot be renegotiated’, AP/RN, 8 April 1999; M. McGuinness, ‘Trimble cannot rewrite Agreement: Republican constituency can go no further’, AP/RN, 29 October 1998; G. Adams, ‘Unionists continue to unpick the Agreement’, AP/RN, 10 December 1998. 121. S. Brady, ‘Decommissioning row an attempt to sabotage Agreement’, AP/RN, 24 September 1998. 122. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 January 2004. 123. Ibid.

Notes

221

124. M. McGuinness, ‘Trimble cannot rewrite Agreement: Republican constituency can go no further’, AP/RN, 29 October 1998; ‘Blair must break Unionist Veto’, AP/RN, front page, 29 July 1999. 125. McGuinness, cited in M. Pierse, ‘RUC Proposals fall short’, AP/RN, 20 January 2000. 126. ‘Blood on Trimble’s Hands’, AP/RN, 15 August 2002. 127. See, for instance, L. Friel, ‘Stand by me’, AP/RN, 14 November 2002. Throughout 2003 and beyond this language became ever more pervasive among republican spokespeople. See ‘Are unionists “victims” of their own myth making?’, AP/RN, 23 January 2003; ‘Unionists attack Sinn Féin candidate’s home’, AP/RN, 29 May 2003; ‘Unionist paramilitary feud in Derry’, AP/RN, 21 August 2003; ‘Upsurge in Unionist violence on St Patrick’s Day’, AP/RN, 25 March 2004; ‘Unionist paramilitaries intensify attacks’, AP/RN, 18 September 2003; ‘Unionist paramilitaries stir up sectarian tensions in Derry’, AP/RN, 14 October 2004; ‘Unionist paramilitaries attack Travellers’, AP/RN, 24 February 2005; ‘Unionist paramilitary feud escalates’, AP/RN, 28 July 2005. 128. ‘Trimble adopts wreckers’ charter’, AP/RN, 3 October 2002. 129. Adams, cited in ‘SF’s bold initiative: Way clear for Executive and All-Ireland bodies’, AP/RN, front page, 3 September 1998. 130. For a narrative of these events, see ‘IRA Statements 1998–2003’, BBC News Online, 25 February 2003, available at , last accessed 10 November 2006; and ‘IRA “has destroyed all its arms”’, BBC News Online, 26 September 2005, available at , last accessed 26 October 2006. 131. Adams, cited in S. Brady, ‘Peace Process faces major crisis’, AP/RN, 15 October 1998. 132. ‘Breaking the Impasse – A Sinn Féin Declaration’, AP/RN, 1 July 1999. 133. Godson, Himself Alone, p. 452. 134. ‘Governments must act’, AP/RN, 1 July 1999. 135. ‘Unionists reject Agreement’, AP/RN, front page, 1 July 1999. 136. Mickey McMullan, cited in H. McDonald, ‘Former IRA terrorist tells Provos to disarm’, Observer, 10 October 1999. 137. Dawn Doyle, interview with the author, Dublin, 8 September 2003. 138. McLaughlin, cited in P. Shirlow and M. McGovern, ‘Language, discourse and dialogue: Sinn Féin and the Irish peace process’, Political Geography, 17(2) (February 1998), p. 180. 139. See above, pp. 37–8. 140. For full details on the background to, and progression of, the Orange Order parades disputes in this period, see R. Dudley Edwards, The Faithful Tribe: An Intimate Portrait of the Loyal Institutions (London, 2000), pp. 350–544. 141. ‘Front line Loyalism’, AP/RN, front page, 27 June 1996; ‘A Carnival of Hate’, AP/RN, 4 July 1996; ‘The roots of unionist sectarianism’, AP/RN, 1 August 1996. 142. For more on the Orange Order and Unionism more generally, see H. Patterson and E. Kaufmann, Unionism and Orangeism in Northern Ireland since 1945: The Decline of the Loyal Family (Manchester, 2007); E. Kaufmann, The Orange Order: A Contemporary Northern Irish History (Oxford, 2007); D. Bryan, Orange Parades: The Politics of Ritual, Tradition and Control (London, 2000); J. Bew, ‘Introduction’, in D. W. Miller, Queen’s Rebels: Ulster Loyalism in Historical Perspective, 2nd edn (Dublin, 2007).

222 Notes 143. 144. 145. 146. 147.

148.

149.

150. 151. 152. 153. 154. 155. 156.

157. 158.

159.

160. 161. 162.

163. 164. 165. 166. 167.

168.

‘200 days under siege’, AP/RN, front page, 21 January 1999. B. Campbell, ‘Time for Change’, AP/RN, 2 July 1998. Dudley Edwards, The Faithful Tribe, pp. 351–2, 357–9, 402–8. Godson, Himself Alone, p. 239. For Bruton’s refusal to meet Adams and Hume, see Mallie and McKittrick, The Fight for Peace, p. 360; for his criticism of the RUC and Unionists, see Godson, Himself Alone, p. 238. M. McGuinness, cited in ‘Sinn Féin Campaign Officially Launched – Martin McGuinness speaks to An Phoblacht’, AP/RN, 13 November 2003. See also, Adams, cited in N. McAdam, ‘Adams and Durkan Clash’, Belfast Telegraph, 2 May 2005. H. Patterson, ‘Sinn Féin and the peace process: the end of the Republican project?’, unpublished seminar given to the Cambridge University, Irish Studies Group, 13 May 2003. Ibid. ‘The Fun isn’t Over’, AP/RN, front page, 6 August 1998. B. Campbell, ‘Time for Change’, AP/RN, 2 July 1998. F. Lane, ‘A party slowly becoming irrelevant’, AP/RN, 6 March 2003. Ibid. ‘RUC must be disbanded’, AP/RN, 4 June 1998. ‘Policy Paper: Independent Commission on Policing for Northern Ireland’, SDLP website, available at , last accessed 6 November 2006; ‘SDLP Response to Patten, 6/12/99’, SDLP website, available at , last accessed 6 November 2006. ‘SF is the best guarantee of policing progress’, AP/RN, 20 November 2003. See, for example, ‘“Patten Still Not Implemented”: Mural 1681, Album 48’, Dr Jonathan McCormack’s Mural Directory, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 30 November 2006. Denis Donaldson, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 January 2004; M. McLaughlin, cited in M. Pierse, ‘Stooping to pressure on policing’, AP/RN, 23 August 2001. See also ‘Policing Plan is Unacceptable’, AP/RN, front page, 23 August 2001. ‘Maskey rubbishes Durkan’s policing stance’, AP/RN, 28 February 2002; ‘The many faces of the SDLP’, AP/RN, 20 February 2003. Gerry Kelly, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 March 2004. P. Mitchel, G. Evans and B. O’Leary, ‘Party Competition and Public Opinion at the Northern Ireland Assembly Elections of 2003’, unpublished paper for Conference at Queen’s University, Belfast, 22 September 2004, p. 44. Sinn Féin, Ard Fheis Clar agus Ruin 2005 (Dublin, 2005) (LLPC), Motions 317 and 318, p. 55. See below, pp. 174–8. ‘Sinn Féin is the best guarantee of policing progress’, AP/RN, 20 November 2003. Mitchel, Evans and O’Leary, ‘Party Competition and Public Opinion’, p. 19. ‘Unionist disunity’, AP/RN, 16 April 1998; B. Campbell, ‘Watching the Unionists’, AP/RN, 16 April 1998; McLaughlin, cited in N. Emerson, ‘Hain failed nationalists’, Irish News, 28 May 2006. See above, pp. 25–6.

Notes

223

169. Blair, cited in ‘In quotes: Blair’s leadership’, BBC News Online, available at , last accessed 7 November 2006. 170. Between 3 and 5 March 2003, Blair and the Irish Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, co-hosted talks between Northern Ireland’s political parties at Hillsborough castle in Northern Ireland. The invasion of Iraq began on 19 March. See ‘Northern Ireland chronology: 2003’, BBC News Online, 9 April 2003, available at , last accessed 30 November 2006. 171. Godson, Himself Alone, p. 444. 172. See, for instance, S. Brady, ‘Peace Process faces major crisis’, AP/RN, 15 October 1998; ‘Governments must back Agreement’, AP/RN, front page, 11 February 1999; ‘Blair’s Blunder’, AP/RN, front page, 15 July 1999; ‘Blair must break Unionist veto’, AP/RN, front page, 29 July 1999; ‘Unionist veto may destroy Agreement’, AP/RN, front page, 10 February 2000; ‘Implement the Agreement: We’re sick of British rule and Unionist vetoes’, AP/RN, front page, 24 February 2000. 173. O’Callaghan, The Informer, p. 285. 174. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 22 November 2005. 175. See, for instance, W. Graham, ‘Good Friday Agreement is “as good as it gets” – Adams’, Irish News, 25 July 2003; P. Rabbitte, ‘Sinn Féin’s Plan B for North unconstitutional’, Irish Times, 15 November 2004; ‘SF: “Govts must spell out Plan B”’, UTV online, available at , last accessed 30 November 2006. 176. Denis Donaldson, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 January 2004. 177. See above, p. 105. 178. See above, pp. 25–6. 179. Figure and results taken from ‘The 2001 Westminster elections in Northern Ireland’, ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 1 November 2006. See also Mitchel, Evans and O’Leary, ‘Party Competition and Public Opinion’, p. 11. 180. Danny Morrison, interview with the author, London, 12 March 2005. 181. Figures taken from Mitchel, Evans and O’Leary, ‘Party Competition and Public Opinion’, pp. 6, 11. 182. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005.

5

Sinn Féin Centre Stage: The Search for Political Growth, 2001–4 1. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. 2. In the 2004 European election in Northern Ireland, Sinn Féin’s Bairbre de Brun won 26 per cent of the vote, compared to 16 per cent won by the SDLP’s Martin Morgan. Figure taken from P. Hainsworth and G. McCann, ‘Change at last: The 2004 European Election in Northern Ireland’, Irish Political Studies, 19(2) (Winter 2004), p. 105. 3. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. 4. P. O’Connor, ‘Insisting on our democratic rights’, AP/RN, 8 May 2003. 5. See above, pp. 25–6. 6. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 May 2005. 7. J. Corcoran, ‘Working the all-Ireland bodies’, AP/RN, 5 December 2002.

224 Notes 8. ‘Time for the right to vote: Six-County Representation in the Oireachtas’, AP/RN, 13 August 1998; ‘Call for Six-County representation in the Oireachtas’, AP/RN, 1 April 1999; ‘Ó Caolàin welcomes Dáil access for Northern MPs’, AP/RN, 28 March 2002. 9. ‘All citizens and emigrants should elect Seanad – Sinn Féin’, AP/RN, 9 October 2003. 10. R. de Rosa, ‘A President for All Campaign Launched’, AP/RN, 22 January 2004; ‘Campaign launched for a Green Paper on Irish Unity’, AP/RN, 3 March 2005. 11. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 September 2003. 12. G. Adams, ‘Our vision sees past partition and poverty – our struggle remains intact: Gerry Adams Presidential Address, 86th Sinn Féin Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 7 February 1991. See above, p. 58. 13. Barry McElduff, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 August 2003. 14. Figure taken from Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 291. 15. On this reasoning, Ó Brádaigh had advised against participating in the election in the first place. See Feeney, Sinn Féin. p. 305. 16. During this period, for example, Sinn Féin was a vocal defender of the rights of travellers, women, homosexuals and immigrants. See, for instance, ‘New antiTraveller law passed’, AP/RN, 28 March 2002; Sinn Féin, Women in an Ireland of Equals (2002), available at , last accessed 7 November 2006; Sinn Féin, Moving On: A Policy for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual Equality (1996), available at , last accessed 7 November 2006; ‘Sinn Féin signs anti-racism pledge’, AP/RN, 14 March 2002; ‘Sinn Féin launches Charter on Racism’, AP/RN, 17 July 2003. 17. This was the slogan for the party’s campaign in the 2002 Irish general election. See ‘Vote for an Ireland of Equals’, AP/RN, 16 May 2002. 18. Adams, cited in Sinn Féin, Gerry Adams Presidential Address to Sinn Féin Ard Fheis 2000 (2000), available at , last accessed 30 November 2006. 19. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 September 2003. 20. M. Pierse, ‘Drugs: the state’s failed legacy’, AP/RN, 24 September 1998. 21. ‘Celtic Tiger ignores homeless’, AP/RN, 13 November 1997. 22. For Sinn Féin’s involvement with the COCAD groups stretching back into the 1990s, see, for example, ‘Heroin Street’, AP/RN, front page, 22 August 1996; ‘Empowering communities – a Sinn Féin response to the drugs epidemic’, AP/RN, 17 October 1996; M. Pierse, ‘Drug debate must look at all issues’, AP/RN, 6 August 1998; ‘Upsurge in drug problem’, AP/RN, 18 September 2003; J. Corcoran, ‘More die from drugs than on roads’, AP/RN, 18 December 2003. 23. Maillot, New Sinn Féin, pp. 92–3. 24. R. de Rossa, ‘No ground floor access’, AP/RN, 13 August 1998. See also, ‘Proper Housing Demanded’, AP/RN, 13 August 1998; ‘Sinn Féin launches radical housing plan’, AP/RN, 25 April 2002; ‘Fianna Fáil back in bed with the builders’, AP/RN, 12 December 2002; ‘Cronyism adds to housing crisis’, AP/RN, 13 February 2003; ‘Homelessness rise shames Coalition’, AP/RN, 27 May 2004. 25. ‘Dublin Sinn Féin against bin charges’, AP/RN, 15 February 2001; ‘No incineration – No service charges’, AP/RN, 3 July 2003; ‘Dubliners face 30% bin charges hike’, AP/RN, 12 December 2003; ‘Sinn Féin support for local residents on bin charges’, 11 September 2003.

Notes

225

26. ‘Ryanair sackings’, AP/RN, 26 March 1998; R. MacGabhann, ‘Dublin Bus workers “will not be defeated”’, AP/RN, 30 March 2000; ‘Huge support for nurses’, AP/RN, front page, 21 October 1999. 27. ‘Huge support for nurses’, AP/RN, front page, 21 October 1999. 28. P. O’Connor, ‘Off the rails’, AP/RN, 24 July 2003. 29. See, for instance, R. Smyth, ‘Crowe calls for rethink on Aer Rianta’, AP/RN, 25 September 2003; ‘Aer Rianta and the fantasy land of free market economics’, AP/RN, 15 January 2004; ‘Brennan steers buses on wrong route’, AP/RN, 31 July 2005. 30. ‘Fruit of the Loom’, AP/RN, 10 December 1998. See also, R. de Rossa, ‘Taking the Apple out of Cork’, AP/RN, 30 July 1998; ‘Fruit of the Loom’s Bitter Harvest’, AP/RN, 3 September 1998; ‘Rotten Apple: Apple sells out Irish workers’, AP/RN, 4 February 1999. 31. Ó Caoláin, cited in ‘Dublin Government spurns gas millions’, AP/RN, 22 October 1998. See also S. ac Coistealbha, ‘The great oil and gas rip-off’, AP/RN, 14 March 2002. 32. T. Clancy, ‘Shell’s assault on Erris’, AP/RN, 26 May 2005. 33. R. de Rosa, ‘Outrage as Corrib protestors are jailed’, AP/RN, front page, 30 June 2005. See also, ‘Protests to Release Rossport 5 Grow’, AP/RN, 14 July 2005; R. de Rosa, ‘Rossport Campaign Grows’, AP/RN, 21 July 2005. 34. Adams, cited in M. Hennessey, ‘Promoting “a political idealism the others have lost”’, Irish Times, 1 April 2002. 35. ‘Ó Caoláin slams “dealings of political class”’, AP/RN, 18 September 1997. For more on the nature and conduct of the various tribunals see E. O’Halpin, ‘“Ah, they’ve given us a good bit of stuff . . .”: Tribunals and Irish Political Life at the Turn of the Century’, Irish Political Studies, 15 (2000). 36. Ó Caoláin, cited in ‘Ó Caoláin slams “dealings of political class”’, AP/RN, 18 September 1997. 37. ‘Liars and Swindlers’, AP/RN, front page, 28 August 1997. 38. ‘Crisis across the political divide’, AP/RN, 28 January 1999. 39. N. Forde, ‘Three men and a brown paper bag’, AP/RN, 18 March 1999. 40. ‘We don’t trust you, Bertie’, Evening Herald, 20 September 2000. 41. ‘Ansbacher exposes corrupt elite’, AP/RN, 11 July 2002. See also ‘Contemptuous, complacent, corrupt’, AP/RN, 3 October 2002; ‘Mahon exposes collective corruption of politics’, AP/RN, 12 February 2004. 42. M. MacDonncha, ‘Not a wedding but a funeral’, AP/RN, 28 May 1998. 43. M. MacDonncha, ‘Demise of DL opens new door to Sinn Féin’, AP/RN, 3 December 1998. 44. M. Gallagher, ‘Stability and Turmoil: Analysis of the results’, in M. Gallagher, M. Marsh and P. Mitchell (eds), How Ireland Voted 2002 (Basingstoke, 2003), pp. 92, 100–2. 45. ‘A realignment of Irish politics’, AP/RN, 23 May 2002. 46. M. Laver and M. Marsh, ‘Parties and voters’, in J. Coakley and M. Gallagher (eds), Politics in the Republic of Ireland, 3rd edn (London, 1999), p. 169. 47. ‘No to Nice’, AP/RN, 7 June 2001. 48. Figures taken from ‘Referendum of 7 June 2001, 24th Amendment, Treaty of Nice I’, ElectionsIreland.org, available at , last accessed 10 November 2006. 49. R. MacGabhann, ‘Nice – the real winners were?’, AP/RN, 24 October 2002.

226 Notes 50. McDowell, cited in ‘Anger over Minister’s attack on SF funding’, UTV Internet, 22 January 2004, available at , last accessed 10 November 2006. 51. See, for instance, J. Cusack and A. Murray, ‘Adams, Ferris and McGuinness “on IRA Council”’, Sunday Independent, 14 March 2004; T. Brady and S. Molony, ‘McDowell: These men are leaders of the IRA’, Irish Independent, 21 February 2005. 52. McDowell, cited in G. McKenna, ‘McDowell in call not to elect “Nazi Sinn Féin/IRA”’, Irish Independent, 8 March 2004. 53. See, for example, J. Murphy, ‘McDowell’s criticisms reflect middle Ireland’s true fears’, Sunday Independent, 3 March 2002. 54. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 January 2004. 55. Dawn Doyle, interview with the author, Dublin, 8 September 2003. 56. M. MacDonncha, ‘Six Months in Leinster House’, AP/RN, 18 December 1997; R. Smyth, ‘McCreevy’s Charter for the Wealthy’, AP/RN, 12 February 2004. See also, R. MacGabhann, ‘McCreevy’s Cake and Crumbs’, AP/RN, 2 December 1999; R. MacGabhann, ‘Scrooge McCreevy robs the people’, AP/RN, front page, 5 December 2002; R. Smyth, ‘McCreevy’s smokescreen’, AP/RN, 11 December 2003. 57. See, for example, ‘Time to share prosperity: Sinn Féin pre-Budget submission’, AP/RN, 26 November 1998; ‘Share the wealth in Budget 2001’, AP/RN, 24 November 2000; ‘Bosses banish Budget blues with 50% pay rise – Sinn Féin calls on Finance Minister to tackle corporate greed’, AP/RN, 27 November 2003; ‘Put children first in Budget 2005’, AP/RN, 18 November 2004. 58. ‘Budget for an Ireland of Equals’, AP/RN, 21 November 2002. 59. See ‘Bosses banish budget blues with 50% pay rise – Sinn Féin calls on Finance Minister to tackle corporate greed’, 27 November 2003; R. Smyth, ‘McCreevy’s Charter for the Wealthy’, AP/RN, 12 February 2004. 60. Sinn Féin, Building a Just Economy (2002), available at ; Sinn Féin, No Right Turn (2003), available at http://www.sinnFéin.ie/policies/document/174; Sinn Féin, Eliminating Poverty – A 21st Century Goal (2004), available at . All last accessed 10 November 2006. 61. ‘Budget for an Ireland of Equals’, AP/RN, 21 November 2002. 62. Sinn Féin, ‘Sinn Féin, The Irish Economy and the Role of Business – Charting a Course for the Future’: Speech by Gerry Adams to the Northern Ireland Chamber of Commerce, 20 February 1998, Wellington Park Hotel, Belfast (1998) (LLPC). 63. Adams, cited in R. Smyth, ‘Delivering a better economy for all – Adams addresses Dublin Chamber of Commerce’, AP/RN, 22 April 2004. 64. Mitchel McLaughlin, cited in B. Dowling, ‘Sinn Féin’s Economic U-Turn’, Irish Independent, 13 January 2006. 65. O’Brien, cited in M. Coleman, ‘Racism threat to economy – O’Brien’, Irish Times, 26 October 2005. 66. Rollins, cited in I. Kehoe, ‘Dell will “reassess” operations if Irish corporation tax rises’, Sunday Business Post, 20 November 2005. 67. Ibid.; ‘Comment: The Driverless Car Syndrome – The Celtic Tiger roars on for now but significant reform is not on agenda’, Finfacts Ireland, available at , last accessed 28 November 2006. 68. Conor Murphy, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 March 2004. 69. Ibid.

Notes

227

70. Dawn Doyle, interview with the author, Dublin, 8 September 2003. 71. For the party’s opposition to refuse charges as a ‘double tax’, see Sinn Féin, No Right Turn (2003) available at , last accessed 10 November 2006. The party’s justification for supporting the introduction of the charges in Sligo can be found in R. MacGabhann, ‘Budget could end service charges divisions: Mixed results on estimate votes’, AP/RN, 30 November 2000. 72. Ibid.; see also ‘Sinn Féin celebrate council successes: Victory for politics of inclusiveness’, AP/RN, 6 July 2000. 73. Sinn Féin, Educate that you may be free (2003), available at ; Sinn Féin, Health for all (2001), available at . Both last accessed 10 November 2006. 74. Conor Murphy, interview with the author, Belfast, 2 March 2004. 75. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 1 September 2003. 76. John Kelly, interview with the author, Belfast, 8 July 2004. 77. Ibid. 78. Ibid. 79. ‘Creeping Privatisation Rejected’, AP/RN, 3 April 2003. The 2003 ard fheis also passed a policy document outlining the party’s opposition to PFI/PPP. See Sinn Féin, Private Finance Initiative (2003), available at , last accessed 10 November 2006. 80. Barry McElduff, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 August 2003. 81. Dawn Doyle, interview with the author, Dublin, 8 September 2003. 82. Eoin O’Broin, interview with the author, Belfast, 5 September 2003. 83. With regards to the former, see J. Moran, ‘Left turn needed’, AP/RN, 19 June 2003 and E. O’Broin, ‘Building the Left Republican alternative’, AP/RN, 17 July 2003. For the latter, see D. O’Cobhthaigh, ‘Building political strength’, AP/RN, 31 July 2003 and D. Kearney, ‘Strategic momentum and popular support’, AP/RN, 3 July 2003. 84. S. MacBradaigh, ‘Having a vision while living in the real world’, AP/RN, 24 July 2003. 85. Pat Doherty, interview with the author, Belfast, 23 August 2003. 86. ‘Horror in Jenin’, AP/RN, front page, 18 April 2002. 87. J. Corcoran, ‘The people’s leader – Yasser Arafat dies’, AP/RN, 18 November 2004. 88. Ibid.; ‘Adams in Middle East Peace Mission’, AP/RN, 7 September 2006. 89. B. Hogan, ‘Dr Dubya (Or How America learned to stop thinking and love the bomb)’, AP/RN, 22 February 2001. 90. J. Moran, ‘We’re not anti-American, just pro-humanity’, AP/RN, 24 June 2004. 91. B. Campbell, ‘The wonderful spirit of the Cuban revolution’, AP/RN, 9 October 1997. 92. G. Adams, ‘Cuba and Ireland: Solidarity in Struggle’, AP/RN, 20 December 2001. 93. ‘Chavez victorious’, AP/RN, 19 August 2004. See also, ‘Backing Chavez’s vision’, AP/RN, 21 April 2005; ‘Bolivia – Another Brick in the Wall’, AP/RN, 5 January 2006. 94. O’Connor, cited in ‘Israelis move deadline as Palestine suffers’, AP/RN, 12 October 2000. 95. See, for example, ‘The Cry is Independencia!’, AP/RN, 8 October 1998; ‘Possible ETA ceasefire: Irish Peace Process points the way for Basque conflict’, AP/RN, 17

228 Notes

96.

97.

98. 99.

100.

101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108.

109. 110.

111. 112. 113.

114. 115.

116.

September 1998; S. Galiana, ‘“The Republican Movement has taught us the way”, Interview with Basque leader’, AP/RN, 24 September 1998. See, for instance, T. Toda, ‘Madrid cracks down on Basque independence’, AP/RN, 18 March 1999; E. O’Broin, ‘Six Months On’, AP/RN, 15 April 1999; ‘Victories for Basque independence movement’, AP/RN, 17 June 1999; ‘Maskey at historic Basque Councillors Congress’, AP/RN, 23 September 1999. See, for example, ‘Basques launch broad front initiative’, AP/RN, 6 November 2003; ‘ETA ready to negotiate’, AP/RN, 25 March 2004; ‘Ó Caoláin urges Basque– Spanish peace process’, AP/RN, 8 April 2004; ‘Basques still seek peace process’, AP/RN, 26 August 2004. G. Adams, ‘Freedom’s fight can be won, if we all stand as one: Presidential Address to 2001 Ard Fheis’, AP/RN, 4 October 2001. ‘Adams condemns Madrid attacks’, AP/RN, 18 March 2004; ‘Horror in Beslan’, AP/RN, 9 September 2004; ‘Adams offers sympathy following London attacks’, AP/RN, 14 July 2005. Bush, cited in ‘You are either with us or against us’, CNN online, 6 November 2001, available at , last accessed 31 October 2006. Figure taken from J. Cusack, ‘SF thrives on major funding from abroad’, Irish Times, 9 December 2000. Figures taken from ‘Sinn Féin US Cash Bonanza’, The Belfast Telegraph, 24 January 2003. Gerry Adams, cited in A. MacEoin, ‘Columbia spook set-up: Concern expressed for Bogota Three’, AP/RN, 30 August 2001. Sinn Féin, Press Release: Gerry Adams on Columbia Arrests (22 August 2001) (LLPC). Flynn, cited in Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, p. 490. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 27 March 2003. ‘Countdown to Slaughter’, AP/RN, front page, 20 March 2003; M. McLaughlin ‘This unjust war’, AP/RN, 20 March 2003. See, for instance, ‘Shannon airport must be demilitarised’, AP/RN, 4 November 2004; ‘Close Shannon to warmongers’, AP/RN, front page, 3 August 2006; Bairbre De Brun, cited in ‘EU must do more to resolve Iraq crisis’, AP/RN, 25 March 2004. See, for example, ‘Falling Victim to the Big Lie’, Sovereign Nation, October/ December 2004. Higgins, cited in J. Meehan, ‘Sinn Féin @ the Bush Party’, The Blanket, 17 March 2003, available at , last accessed 11 November 2006. ‘Tough talks ahead: Substantive gap remains’, AP/RN, front page, 13 March 2003. ‘Crunch week for the process’, AP/RN, front page, 10 April 2003. A. McIntyre, ‘Bush and Blair summon the Irish Contras’, The Blanket, 10 April 2003, available at , last accessed 11 November 2006. D. O’Cobhthaigh, ‘Looking Beyond the Road Map – The Discussion Continues’, AP/RN, 12 September 2002. F. Lane, ‘Castlereagh arrests black propaganda’, AP/RN, 4 April 2002; J. Gibney, ‘“Stinging” the peace process’, AP/RN, 10 October 2002; D. Kearney, ‘Putting the peace process between hammer and anvil’, AP/RN, 29 April 2004. Daly, cited in D. Casciani, ‘Eyewitness: Bomb Blast at school’, BBC News Online, 5 September 2001, available at , last accessed 11 November 2006.

Notes

229

117. P. O’Connor, ‘How dare you lecture us about democracy’, AP/RN, 17 April 2003. 118. ‘We have questions too’, AP/RN, 1 May 2003. 119. ‘Stormtroopers trample Agreement’, AP/RN, front page, 10 October 2002. 120. L. Friel, ‘A very British coup’, AP/RN, 10 October 2002. 121. ‘Unionists jeopardise progress’, AP/RN, front page, 9 October 2003. 122. ‘Exclusive IRA interview’, AP/RN, 12 September 2002. 123. ‘Governments must deliver’, AP/RN, front page, 12 August 2004. 124. A. McIntyre, ‘A Subtle but Brilliant Use of the IRA’, The Blanket, 11 January 2004, available at , last accessed 11 November 2006. 125. M. MacDonncha, ‘Ahern’s leadership is a weakness in peace process’, AP/RN, 30 October 2003. 126. J. Corcoran, ‘Betrayed by Dublin – Republicans furious over IMC report’, AP/RN, front page, 22 April 2004. 127. T. Hartley, ‘Towards a Broader Base?’ (Sinn Féin Internal Conference, Dublin, 7/8 May 1988) (LLPC). See above, p. 57. 128. Ahern, cited in M. MacDonncha, ‘Still no election despite all-party call in Dáil’, AP/RN, 9 October 2003. See also ‘Dáil Debate – 7 October 2003’, Houses of the Oireachtas: Dáil Eireann Debates, available at , last accessed 11 November 2006. 129. ‘Congressmen call for date for Six County elections’, AP/RN, 24 July 2003; Haas, cited in ‘Haas calls for election “soon”’, BBC News Online, 19 May 2003, available at , last accessed 11 November 2006. 130. J. Gibney, ‘They cancel elections and kill “their own” citizens’, AP/RN, 22 May 2006. 131. ‘Demand the right to vote’, AP/RN, front page, 22 May 2003. 132. ‘Thousands call for truth on collusion’, AP/RN, front page, 14 August 2003. 133. See, for instance: L. Friel, ‘Cory demands collusion inquiries – British Government snubbed by Canadian judge’, AP/RN, front page, 15 January 2004; ‘Time for truth on collusion’, AP/RN, front page, 22 January 2004. 134. J.Corcoran, ‘Anger as public inquiries are denied’, AP/RN, front page, 8 April 2004. 135. ‘Cory reports: what was said’, BBC News Online, 1 April 2004, available at , last accessed 5 November 2006. 136. L. Friel, ‘The DUP exposed’, AP/RN, 18 December 2003. 137. Paisley, cited in B. McCaffrey and A. Madden, ‘The rise of the DUP’, Irish News, 29 November 2003. 138. Adams, cited in ‘Gerry Adams: Paisleyites cannot stop change’, Independent, 16 January 2004. 139. Gerry Kelly, cited in D. Keenan, ‘SF says DUP out to undermine accord’, Irish Times, 21 September 2004. See also ‘DUP must get real’, AP/RN, front page, 21 October 2004. 140. G. McKenna and B. Purcell, ‘Provos ready to go the full distance for a peace deal’, Irish Independent, front page, 18 September 2004. 141. G. Moriarty and F. Millar, ‘IRA now “willing to disarm” by end of the year’, Irish Times, front page, 20 September 2004; ‘Peace Process – DUP insists on changing goalposts’, Irish Examiner, 20 September 2004.

230 Notes 142. S. MacCarthaigh, ‘DUP scuppers North deal’, Sunday Business Post, 19 September 2004. 143. H. Patterson, ‘A Conspiracy of Agreement’, Parliamentary Brief, 9(5), October 2004, p. 5. 144. ‘NI talks end without deal’, BBC News Online, 18 September 2004, available at , last accessed 11 November 2006. 145. Paisley, cited in P. Colgan, ‘Blair and Ahern dance to Paisley’s tune’, Sunday Business Post, 12 December 2004. See also T. Harding, ‘Blair refuses to give up on Ulster deal’, Daily Telegraph, 9 December 2004. 146. Sunday Independent/Millward Brown IMS Opinion Poll, cited in J. Corcoran, ‘Sinn Féin will hold balance in ’07 election’, Sunday Independent, 21 November 2004. 147. Ibid. 148. A. Quinlivan and E. Schon-Quinlivan, ‘The 2004 European Parliament Election in the Republic of Ireland’, Irish Political Studies, 19(2) (Winter 2004), pp. 91–3. See also, ‘Toghchan Eorpach 11/06/2004’, Guthanphobail.net, available at , last accessed 10 November 2006. 149. Hainsworth and McCann, ‘Change at last: The 2004 European Election in Northern Ireland’, p. 105. 150. Figures taken from A. Kavanagh, ‘The 2004 Local Elections in the Republic of Ireland’, Irish Political Studies, 19(2) (Winter 2004), pp. 71–2. 151. Ibid., pp. 77–9. 152. Exit poll analysis from the 2002 Irish general election revealed Sinn Féin winning the support of more first-time voters than the rest of the main parties put together. See ‘Support of rookie voters key to SF triumph’, Irish Independent, 20 May 2002.

6

Reversal, Recovery and Divergence, 2004–7 1. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 July 2006. 2. ‘Sinn Fein centenary “a major recruitment drive”’, Irish Independent, 29 December 2004. 3. ‘Speech by Gerry Adams, the President of Sinn Féin, at the national launch of Céad Bliain/Sinn Féin 100 event, in the Round Room at the Mansion House, Dublin, 14 January 2005’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 25 February 2008. 4. Ibid. 5. Ibid. 6. ‘IRA: pandering to rejectionist Unionists unacceptable’, AP/RN, 6 January 2005. 7. Ibid. 8. For further detail on these events see ‘“Professional gang” behind raid’, BBC News Online, 22 December 2004, available at , last accessed 10 November 2006; T. Harding, ‘Detectives suspect IRA link in £30 m bank raid’, Daily Telegraph, 23 December 2004; O. Bowcott, ‘Provisional IRA denies role in £22 m bank theft’, Guardian, 24 December 2004; L. Clarke, ‘Bank Raid “was work of the IRA”’, Sunday Times,

Notes

9.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14.

15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

21.

22.

23.

24. 25.

26. 27.

231

26 December 2004; D. Lister, ‘Proceeds of £40 m bank theft could pay IRA “pensions”’, The Times, 29 December 2004. Orde, cited in ‘Police say IRA behind bank raid’, BBC News Online, 7 January 2005, available at , last accessed 10 November 2006. B. Heffernan, ‘Adams, McGuinness are not committed to peace, says McDowell’, Irish Independent, 8 January 2005. M. McGuinness, ‘Accusations and Agendas’, AP/RN, 13 January 2005. McLaughlin, cited in, ‘McLaughlin: “SF won’t be deflected”’, UTV Online, 8 January 2005, available at , last accessed 12 February 2008. Adams, cited in ‘Sinn Fein will resist discrimination by governments’, AP/RN, front page, 13 January 2005. ‘Bank raid was IRA say ministers’, BBC News Online, 17 January 2005, available at , last accessed 3 March 2008. McDowell, cited in S. Smyth, ‘Cult of the Shinners lays down its own laws through “Padre Pio” punishment’, Irish Independent, 26 January 2005. Harney, cited in A. Beesley and M. Hennessy, The Irish Times, 24 January 2005. Adams, cited in ‘Would you trust Michael McDowell with the Peace Process’, AP/RN, front page, 27 January 2005. Blair, cited in F. Millar, ‘Ahern and Blair say IRA is only obstacle to settlement’, The Irish Times, 2 February 2005. ‘IRA Offer Withdrawn’, AP/RN, front page, 3 February 2005. ‘IRA warns of “serious situation”’, BBC News Online, 4 February 2005, available at , last accessed 3 March 2008. See, for example, the comments of Enda Kenny and Pat Rabbitte, cited in, ‘Govts playing down statement says IRA’, RTE News Online, 3 February 2005, available at , last accessed 3 March 2008. See also, T. Brady and G. McKenna, ‘Now Provos put a gun to our heads’, Irish Independent, 4 February 2005. G. Moriarty and M. Brennock, ‘SF anger as IMC implicates leaders in bank raid’, The Irish Times, 11 February 2005; T. Harding and G. Jones, ‘£500,000 penalty on Sinn Fein over bank theft “is not enough”’, Daily Telegraph, 24 February 2005. An examination of the online newspaper archive ‘Newshound’ shows that in the days following the killing, the story scarcely registered. It was only several days later that it began to rise up the news agenda. See, for example, H. McDonald, ‘Grieving sisters square up to IRA’, Observer, 13 February 2005. See, for instance, A. McIntyre, ‘Burdens Unbearable’, The Blanket, 4 February 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008; A. Chrisafis, ‘Brutal killing turns republicans against IRA’, Guardian, 9 February 2005; and S. Breen, ‘They’ll never vote Sinn Féin again’, Sunday Tribune, 13 February 2005. G. Adams, ‘The most important thing we can do is rebuild the Peace Process – Gerry Adams Presidential Address’, AP/RN, 10 March 2005. See, for example, ‘Politicians react angrily to IRA statement’, RTE Online, 8 March 2005, available at ; ‘The madness of the IRA’, Irish Independent, editorial, 9 March 2005; ‘Now only Blair

232 Notes

28. 29.

30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37.

38. 39.

40. 41. 42. 43.

44. 45.

46. 47.

48. 49.

ignores the truth about Sinn Fein’, Daily Telegraph, editorial, 9 March 2005; ‘IRA statement – a blatant disregard for democracy’, Irish Examiner, editorial, 10 March 2005. McGuinness, cited in ‘Republicans want justice for McCartneys’, AP/RN, 10 March 2005. McGuinness, cited in ‘Party politics warning to sisters’, BBC News Online, 14 March 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. See also ‘What the papers say’, BBC News Online, 16 March 2005, available at last accessed 4 March 2008. McLaughlin, cited in ‘Riveting TV watching Sinn Fein’s mask slip’, Irish Independent, 19 January 2005. G. Adams, ‘The most important thing we can do is rebuild the Peace Process – Gerry Adams Presidential Address’, AP/RN, 10 March 2005. ‘Sinn Fein is up for the fight’, AP/RN, front page, 10 February 2005; ‘We will not be criminalised’, AP/RN, front page, 24 February 2005. Adams, cited in, ‘Sinn Fein will weather this storm’, AP/RN, 24 February 2005. Jim Gibney, interview with the author, Belfast, 21 July 2006. McDowell, cited in T. Brady and S. Molony, ‘McDowell: These men are leaders of the IRA’, Irish Independent, 21 February 2005. See, for instance, J. Cusack and A. Murray, ‘Adams, Ferris and McGuinness “on IRA Council”’, Sunday Independent, front page, 14 March 2004. Irish Times/TNS MRBI Opinion Poll, cited in M. Brennock, ‘Two-thirds of voters believe Sinn Féin must split from IRA’, Irish Times, front page, 5 March 2005. Ibid. Irish Independent/Millward Brown IMS Opinion Poll, cited in J. Cusack and J. O’Malley, ‘McCartney/heist backlash rocks SF despite core vote’, Sunday Independent, front page, 27 February 2005. J. Moran, ‘Reilly increases vote’, AP/RN, 17 March 2005. J. Corcoran, ‘Meath polls positive for Reilly’, AP/RN, 10 March 2005. Senior republican in private conversation with the author. Whereas Sinn Féin’s electoral triumphs were almost always given front-page coverage in the party newspaper, the results of the Meath by-election were relegated to the inside pages: J. Moran, ‘Reilly increases vote’, AP/RN, 17 March 2005. W. O’Dea, ‘Now is the time for “the truth, justice and freedom from fear”’, Sunday Independent, 20 February 2005. Ahern, cited in ‘Sinn Fein “knew of robbery plans”’, BBC News Online, 2 February 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. C. O’Clery, ‘Politicians harden demands on IRA to disband’, Irish Times, front page, 17 March 2005. Figure based on information collated from ‘Conflict-related Deaths in Northern Ireland since the 1994 Ceasefires’, British Irish Rights Watch, available at , last accessed 10 November 2006. M. Clancy, ‘The United States and post-Agreement Northern Ireland, 2001–2006’, Irish Studies in International Affairs, 18 (2007), p. 165. Mandelson, cited in N. Watt, P. Wintour and O. Bowcott, ‘Blair guilty of capitulating to Sinn Fein – Mandelson’, Guardian, front page, 13 March 2007 and N. Watt,

Notes

50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58.

59. 60.

61. 62. 63. 64. 65.

66.

67. 68.

69. 70. 71.

72.

233

P. Wintour and O. Bowcott, ‘Ten years of delicate deals and hard bargaining’, Guardian, 13 March 2007. Lord Butler, cited in ibid. See, for instance, the words of Gerry MacLochlainn above, p. 102. ‘Gerry Adams addresses the IRA’, AP/RN, 7 April 2005. Ibid. ‘Seizing the Initiative’, AP/RN editorial, 7 April 2005; ‘IRA will respond “in due course”, AP/RN, 14 April 2005. ‘Governments face significant challenges’, front page, AP/RN, 14 April 2005. J. Gibney, ‘Historic speech offers peaceful alternative’, Irish News, 15 April 2005. L. Friel, ‘The stuff of history’, AP/RN, 14 April 2005. See, for example, ‘Let us judge their deeds’, Irish Independent, editorial, 7 April 2005; ‘No guns, no deal’, Daily Telegraph, editorial, 7 April 2005; D. Keenan, ‘Sinn Fein president calls on IRA to abandon violence’, Irish Times, front page, 7 April 2005; ‘Actions not words’, Guardian, editorial, 8 April 2005; ‘Can IRA rise to the challenge?’, Belfast Telegraph, editorial, 8 April 2005. ‘Durkan win imposes smirking ban on Sinn Fein’, Irish Independent, 7 May 2005. In results very similar to those returned by the 2003 Assembly election, Sinn Féin took 24 per cent of the vote to the SDLP’s 18 per cent. Figures taken from ‘The 2005 Westminster elections in Northern Ireland’, ARK Northern Ireland: Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 11 November 2006. J. Cusack, ‘Are Sinn Féin at tipping point?’, Belfast Telegraph, 8 June 2006. ‘Director of Elections Report to the Cuige AGM February 2006’ (Sinn Féin Cuige Na Se Chondae AGM, 11 February 2006, Gulladuff) (author’s personal copy). ‘IRA leads the way’, AP/RN, front page, 28 July 2005. Coogan, The IRA, p. 35. For biographical details of Walsh, see ‘Historic statement read by Séanna Walsh’, AP/RN, 28 July 2005 and ‘Séanna Walsh addresses West Tyrone Youth Forum on 1981’, Ógra Shinn Fein, 13 December 2007, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. De Chastelain, cited in ‘IRA “has destroyed all its arms”’, BBC News Online, 26 September 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. Goode and Reid, cited in ibid. Adams first used this phrase in the build-up to the 2004 negotiations with the DUP, when he had suggested that republicans might have to be ‘prepared to remove the IRA as an excuse’ for Unionists to block ‘political progress’. Adams, cited in ‘Adams: Remove IRA as an “excuse”’, BBC News Online, 5 August 2004, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. R. Smyth, ‘11 years of IRA support for process’, AP/RN, 28 July 2005. McGuinness, cited in ‘McGuinness welcomes IRA statement’, AP/RN, 4 August 2005. Adams, cited in ‘Adams urges devolution progress’, BBC News Online, 30 September 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. ‘PM’s statement on the IRA’, 10 Downing Street Website, 28 July 2005, available at , last accessed

234 Notes

73.

74.

75.

76.

77. 78.

79. 80.

81. 82. 83. 84.

85. 86.

4 March 2008; ‘Statement on the commitment by the IRA to end its armed campaign’, Department of the Taoiseach Online, 28 July 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. For the Sinn Fein response, see, ‘Renewed calls for implementation of Agreement’, AP/RN, 4 August 2005. ‘Joint Statement on Decommissioning by the Taoiseach and the Prime Minister’, Northern Ireland Office Media Centre, 26 September 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. ‘Demilitarisation moves announced’, BBC News Online, 1 August 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. ‘Anger after Hain restores SF Assembly allowances’, UTV Online, 19 October 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. See also, M. White, ‘Sinn Fein MPs’ £1/2 m expenses restored’, Guardian, 9 February 2006. Hain, cited in ‘IRA “delivering on peace promise”’, BBC News Online, 2 October 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. Ahern, cited in ‘Ahern calls for renewal of talks on North institutions’, Irish Times, front page, 29 September 2005. Paisley, cited in ‘Royal Irish units to be disbanded’, BBC News Online, 2 August 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. See also, ‘Statement by Ian Paisley, then leader of the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), on the British Government’s Plans for Security Normalisation in Northern Ireland (1 August 2005)’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. ‘Sean Kelly returned to prison’, NIO Media Centre, 18 June 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008; S. Brady, ‘British sop to DUP as Orange Mobs Rampage’, AP/RN, front page, 23 June 2005; L. Friel, ‘Kelly jailing stupid – Adams’, AP/RN, 30 June 2005; ‘Release Sean Kelly’, AP/RN, front page, 21 July 2005; ‘Sean Kelly released’, AP/RN, 28 July 2005. T. Peterkin, ‘Anger as Shankill bomber is released’, Daily Telegraph, 28 July 2005. L. Friel, ‘Pushover or leftover unionism?’, AP/RN, 4 August 2005. Ibid. Paisley, cited in ‘IRA “has destroyed all its arms”’, BBC News Online, 26 September 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008; ‘Statement by Reg Empey, then leader of the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP), on the Decommissioning of Weapons by the IRA (26 September 2005)’, CAIN (Conflict Archive on the Internet), available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. See above, pp. 61–2. Reid, cited in O. Barcelona, ‘SF not to blame for raid, priest claims’, Irish Independent, 8 March 2005.

Notes

235

87. ‘Unionist anger over Nazi remarks’, BBC News Online, 13 October 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 88. Proposals by the British and Irish Governments for a Comprehensive Agreement, Northern Ireland Office, 8 December 2004, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 89. P. Bew, ‘Shadowy alliance haunts Stormontgate’, Yorkshire Post, 22 December 2005. 90. ‘Political Impasse: Governments need to face down DUP – Gerry Adams outlines strategy to end impasse’, AP/RN, 9 March 2006. 91. ‘Stakes high as DUP seek to subvert Agreement’, AP/RN, 25 May 2006. 92. ‘Gerry Adams slams powerless talking shop’, AP/RN, 18 May 2006. 93. Ibid. 94. ‘End this Farce – Martin McGuinness’, AP/RN, front page, 29 June 2006. 95. ‘Review of Hain Assembly: Sinn Fein will not participate in farce’, AP/RN, 29 June 2006. 96. ‘Time to put it up to Paisley’, AP/RN, front page, 21 September 2006; A. Foley, ‘Peace Process: DUP appears intent on breaching deadline’, AP/RN, 21 September 2006. 97. ‘Murder attempt: DUP contributing to loyalist violence’, AP/RN, 9 March 2006. 98. ‘Sectarian murder in DUP heartland’, AP/RN, front page, 11 May 2006. 99. ‘Sinn Fein “involved in ETA move”’, BBC News Online, 24 March 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 100. ‘Adams in push for Basque peace’, AP/RN, front page, 8 June 2006. 101. Adams, cited in ‘Basque visit: Sinn Fein President meets range of political leaders’, AP/RN, 8 June 2006. See also E. O’Broin, ‘Adams in Spain and Basque Country: A desire and a will to achieve peace’, AP/RN, 15 June 2006. 102. ‘Adams in Middle East Peace Mission’, AP/RN, front page, 7 September 2006. 103. ‘Adams in Palestine: Respect for democratic mandates urged’, AP/RN, 7 September 2006. 104. ‘Adams in Palestine: Dialogue the way forward’, AP/RN, 14 September 2006. 105. ‘McGuinness begins Sri Lankan meetings’, AP/RN, 19 January 2006; ‘McGuinness meets Tamil Tigers’, AP/RN, 6 July 2006. 106. McGuinness, cited in ‘International: Republicans’ unique credibility with opposing sides’, AP/RN, 13 July 2006. 107. ‘Row as NI talks session collapses’, BBC News Online, 20 February 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 108. M. Brennock and F. Millar, ‘Ahern and Blair forced to delay NI initiative’, Irish Times, 4 March 2006. 109. ‘Adams – Objective of talks must be to restore the political institutions within a short time-frame’, Sinn Fein, 4 February 2006 (Speech given by Gerry Adams to the National Conference of Ógra Shinn Fein, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 110. ‘PM’s Statement on Irish power-sharing’, 10 Downing Street, 6 April 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008.

236 Notes 111. ‘Joint Statement with the Taoiseach’, 10 Downing Street, 6 April 2006, available at last accessed 4 March 2008. 112. Adams, cited in ‘Reaction to NI devolution plan’, BBC News Online, 6 April 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 113. Paisley, cited in ibid. 114. See, for example, T. Peterkin and N. Bunyan, ‘Raids over £30 m property empire “linked to IRA”’, Daily Telegraph, 7 October 2005; D. Ottewell, ‘Tycoons in “£30m IRA paper trail”’, Manchester Evening News, 8 October 2005; A. Chrisafis, ‘Documents sifted in IRA assets inquiry’, Guardian, 8 October 2005; J. Cusack, ‘Provos’ property empire is just the tip of the iceberg’, Sunday Independent, 9 October 2005; L. Clarke and M. Chittenden, ‘IRA chief’s £35m crime empire crumbles’, Sunday Times, 9 October 2005. 115. ‘“IRA link” in Irish money probe’, BBC News Online, 1 February 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 116. For more on this see, for instance, C. Lally and G. Moriarty, ‘Border raids uncover major oil laundering operations’, Irish Times, 10 March 2006; ‘Laptop seized in hayshed “holds secrets of IRA cash”’, Irish Independent, 10 March 2006; O. Bowcott, ‘Cross-border raid targets alleged IRA chief of staff’, Guardian, 10 March 2006. 117. Eighth Report of the Independent Monitoring Commission (January 2006), available at . 118. McGuinness, cited in ‘The IMC has no place in the political process – McGuinness’, AP/RN, 2 February 2006. 119. Paisley, cited in ‘Paisley calls for re-opening of issue’, RTE News Online, 1 February 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 120. Agreement at St Andrews (October 2006), available at . 121. Twelfth Report of the Independent Monitoring Commission (October 2006), available at . 122. Agreement at St Andrews (October 2006), available at . 123. See, for instance, Proposals by the British and Irish Governments for a Comprehensive Agreement, Northern Ireland Office, 8 December 2004, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 124. For more on this, see Godson, Himself Alone, pp. 522–3. 125. ‘Sinn Fein Ard Fheis 2006 – Policing: Going on the offensive on policing issue’, AP/RN, 23 February 2006. 126. Kelly, cited in ‘Policing decision could come “within weeks” of timeframe for transfer of powers – Kelly’, AP/RN, 21 September 2006. 127. Ibid. 128. P. Sherwell, ‘I’ll never deal with Adams again, says Bush’, Sunday Telegraph, 13 March 2005. See also M. Evans and H. Rumbelow, ‘US calls halt to Sinn Fein fundraising in IRA backlash’, The Times, 14 March 2005. 129. Reiss, cited in ‘Sinn Fein “untruthful on policing”’, BBC News Online, 21 March 2004, available at ,

Notes

130.

131.

132.

133. 134. 135. 136. 137. 138. 139.

140.

141.

142.

143.

144.

145.

237

last accessed 4 March 2008. Reiss had been responding to an advertisement that Sinn Féin had taken out in the New York Times, which presented the party’s criticisms of the PSNI. Reiss, cited in ‘Reiss’s peace: Bush’s envoy issues “report card” on North’, Irish Echo Online, 21–7 December 2005, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. Adams, cited in ‘Gerry Adams challenges Mitchell Reiss attack on Sinn Féin policing position’, Sinn Féin Online, 1 January 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. Reiss, cited in ‘The Northern Ireland Peace Process: A Status Report – The Honorable Mitchell B. Reiss, Special Envoy of the President and Secretary of State for the Northern Ireland Peace Process Testimony Before the House International Relations Committee Subcommittee on Africa, Global Human Rights and International Operations ’, US Department of State, 15 March 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. Adams, cited in F. Millar, ‘Issue of policing is capable of being resolved, says Adams’, Irish Times, 11 May 2006. Reiss, cited in F. Millar, ‘Bush’s envoy sees policing as key issue for Sinn Fein’, Irish Times, 10 June 2006. Ibid. Robinson, cited in S. Dempster, ‘SF “must back police before sharing power”’, News Letter, 20 October 2006. G. Adams, ‘Peace talks – Sinn Féin determined to make progress’, AP/RN, 12 October 2006. ‘St Andrews proposals – consultation group to report back to Ard Chomhairle’, AP/RN, 26 October 2006. ‘Sinn Fein Consultation – Sixty meetings held across Ireland: St Andrews proposals have potential to move process forward’, AP/RN, front page, 9 November 2006. See also G. McKenna, ‘Sinn Féin gives go ahead for St. Andrews talks though policing remains “core” issue’, Irish Independent, 7 November 2006. For an account of the Conway Mill debate, see A. McIntyre, ‘Conway Mill Debate’, The Blanket, 29 November 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. Similarly, for the Toome debate, see A. McIntyre, ‘Toome Debate’, The Blanket, 21 December 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. For an articulation of this view see, for example, A. McIntyre, ‘Delusions’, The Blanket, 1 October 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. ‘Extraordinary Ard Fheis – Political Pressure falls on Paisley: Adams hails “truly historic decision”’, AP/RN, front page, 1 February 2007; C. Ni Dhonnabhain, ‘Extraordinary Ard Fheis – Afternoon Session 2: Motion passed by huge majority’, AP/RN, 1 February 2007. ‘Hain warns on party nominations’, BBC News Online, 22 November 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. Hain, cited in ‘Stormont attack devices defused’, BBC News Online, 24 November 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. For more on this, see P. Bew, The Making and Remaking of the Good Friday Agreement (Dublin, 2007), pp. 137–40.

238 Notes 146. Figures taken from, ‘Northern Ireland election overview’, BBC News Online, 13 March 2007, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 147. Ibid. 148. ‘Howth Meeting – Planning for negotiations and elections’, AP/RN, 14 September 2006. 149. ‘Health Crisis – Sinn Fein Alternative’, AP/RN, 27 April 2006; ‘Health policy – Alternative to two-tier system launched’, AP/RN, 4 May 2006; ‘Health for All – National Day of Action’, AP/RN, 18 May 2006. 150. ‘Health policy – Alternative to two-tier system launched’, AP/RN, 4 May 2006. 151. ‘About The Centre for Public Inquiry’, Centre for Public Inquiry website, available at , last accessed 10 November 2006. See also, J. Cusack, ‘US political group rejects Connolly link’, Sunday Independent, 12 June 2005. 152. See, for example, C. Murphy, ‘Independent Newspapers and the Centre for Public Inquiry’, Village Magazine, 15 December 2005. 153. See for instance, P. Cullen, ‘Inquiry centre to meet as a4 m funding withdrawn’, Irish Times, 8 December 2005. 154. M. MacDonncha, ‘1916–2006: State avoids political message of proclamation’, AP/RN, 20 April 2006. 155. ‘1916–2006 Easter Commemorations’, AP/RN, 20 April 2006; S. Collins, ‘Easter Rising attracts 100,000 and wins political approval’, Irish Times, 17 April 2006. 156. J. Gibney, ‘Hunger Strike Anniversary: H-Block men inspired new generation’, AP/RN, 2 March 2006. 157. ‘“The Hunger Strike will never, ever leave me”’, AP/RN, 11 May 2006; ‘Remembering 1981: Sean Crowe TD’, AP/RN, 10 August 2006; ‘Interview: Joe McElwee, brother of Hunger Striker Thomas’, AP/RN, 10 August 2006; ‘Interview: Gerard Lynch, brother of Hunger Striker Kevin Lynch’, AP/RN, 10 August 2006. 158. ‘Hunger Strikers remembered in Derrygonnelly’, AP/RN, 24 August 2006; ‘Hunger Strike 25th Anniversary Concert: Fitting finale to year of remembrance’, AP/RN, 7 December 2006. 159. ‘Huge Crowds Pay Tribute to Hunger Strikers’, AP/RN, front page, 17 August 2006; ‘Huge crowds turn out to honour the Hunger Strikers’, AP/RN, 17 August 2006. 160. E. Moloney, ‘SF leaders too slick for the party’s own good’, Irish Times, 31 May 2007. 161. ‘Feature Interview: Sinn Féin Chief Negotiator Martin McGuinness’, AP/RN, 14 September 2006. 162. Figures taken from ‘Dublin Central: General Election 17 May 2002’, Elections Ireland, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 163. Figures taken from ‘Dublin Central: General Election 24 May 2007’, Elections Ireland, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 164. Harris, cited in L. Clarke, ‘Harris promises campaign to redefine republicanism’, Sunday Times, 12 August 2007. Harris was speaking to the ‘West Belfast Talks Back’ Forum at the annual West Belfast Festival. During the course of his remarks, Harris also offered one member of the audience a £100 bet at odds of 10:1 that Sinn Féin would indeed be left without TDs after the next Dáil election.

Notes

239

Conclusion 1. D. Kearney, ‘Beyond the road map – Preparing for Power: John Joe McGirl Commemorative Address’, AP/RN, 29 August 2002. 2. G. Adams, ‘Looking to the future’, AP/RN, 25 October 2001. 3. Adams, Hope and History, p. 238. 4. Tom Hartley, interview with the author, Belfast, 27 March 2003. 5. Francie Molloy, interview with the author, Belfast, 12 August 2003. 6. Doherty, cited in ‘Debating the path to freedom’, AP/RN, 14 May 1998. 7. P. O’Connor, ‘Insisting on our democratic rights’, AP/RN, 8 May 2003. 8. Sean O’Callaghan, interview with the author, London, 22 November 2005. 9. ‘A triumph of the spirit – 20 years after the H7 Breakout’, AP/RN, 25 September 2003. 10. Ibid. 11. David McClarty, interview with the author, Belfast, 14 July 2004. 12. D. Kearney, ‘Beyond the road map – Preparing for Power: John Joe McGirl Commemorative Address’, AP/RN, 29 August 2002. 13. ‘Chair’s Report to the Cuige AGM February 2006’ (Sinn Féin Cuige Na Se Chondae AGM, 11 February 2006, Gulladuff) (author’s personal copy). 14. Adams, cited in Mallie and McKittrick, The Fight for Peace, p. 353; D. Kearney, ‘Beyond the road map – Preparing for Power: John Joe McGirl Commemorative Address’, AP/RN, 29 August 2002; ‘Director of Elections Report to the Cuige AGM February 2006’ (Sinn Féin Cuige Na Se Chondae AGM, 11 February 2006, Gulladuff) (author’s personal copy). 15. D. Kearney, ‘Beyond the road map – Preparing for Power: John Joe McGirl Commemorative Address’, AP/RN, 29 August 2002. 16. See, for example, S. Breen, ‘Veteran IRA man resigns from Army Council’, Sunday Tribune, 24 September 2006. 17. ‘Thomas Ashe commemoration’, Eirigi: For a Socialist Republic (Online), 22 September 2007, available at , last accessed 5 March 2008. 18. O’Neill, cited in A. McIntyre, ‘Toome Debate’, The Blanket, 21 December 2006, available at , last accessed 4 March 2008. 19. McHugh, cited in ‘SF “undemocratic” says resigned MLA’, Belfast Telegraph, 4 December 2007. See also, M. Canning, ‘McHugh quits SF over party politics’, Irish News, 4 December 2007. 20. Swift, cited in ‘Sinn Féin split over joining policing body’, The Impartial Reporter, 4 October 2007. 21. Ibid. 22. For an example of further resignations from the party, see also ‘Parties hit by more resignations’, BBC News Online, 1 March 2007, available at , last accessed 5 March 2008. 23. ‘Sinn Féin forfeits two places on Strabane DPP’, Northern Ireland News: 4NI.co.uk, 5 December 2007, available at , last accessed 5 March 2008.

Bibliography Interviews carried out by the author Anonymous (confidential interview with former army officer), Belfast, 22 July 2006 Anonymous (confidential interview with former community worker), Dublin, 20 July 2006 Martin Cunningham (former Sinn Féin local councillor), Newcastle, Co. Down, 14 July 2004 Pat Doherty (Sinn Féin MLA and former vice-president), Belfast, 23 August 2003 Denis Donaldson (former head of Sinn Féin’s administration, Stormont) (1), Belfast, 10 April 2003 Denis Donaldson (2), Belfast, 2 January 2004 Dawn Doyle (Sinn Féin director of publicity), Dublin, 8 September 2003 Jim Gibney (former Sinn Féin national organizer and ard chomhairle member) (1), Belfast, 27 March 2003 Jim Gibney (2), Belfast, 1 September 2003 Jim Gibney (3), Belfast, 12 May 2005 Jim Gibney (4), Belfast, 21 July 2006 Tom Hartley (Sinn Féin local government councillor and member of ard chomhairle), Belfast, 27 March 2003 Gerry Kelly (Sinn Féin MLA and ard chomhairle member), Belfast, 2 March 2004 John Kelly (former Sinn Féin MLA and IRA leader), Belfast, 8 July 2004 Gerry MacLochlainn (Sinn Féin local government councillor and former representative in Great Britain), Derry, 14 April 2003 Fra McCann (Sinn Féin MLA), Belfast, 2 March 2004 David McClarty (Ulster Unionist Party MLA), Belfast, 14 July 2004 Barry McElduff (Sinn Féin MLA), Belfast, 12 August 2003 Anthony McIntyre (former IRA volunteer and republican prisoner, now journalist and editor of The Blanket online journal), Belfast, 6 January 2004 Mitchel McLaughlin (former Sinn Féin national chairperson, now general secretary), Belfast, 11 August 2003 Francie Molloy (Sinn Féin MLA), Belfast, 12 August 2003 Danny Morrison (former Sinn Féin director of publicity) (1), Belfast, 21 August 2003 Danny Morrison (2), London, 12 March 2005 Conor Murphy (Sinn Féin MLA, now MP), Belfast, 2 March 2004 Mary Nelis (Sinn Féin MLA), Belfast, 12 August 2003 Eoin O’Broin (Sinn Féin local government councillor, now Sinn Féin director of European affairs) (1), Belfast, 5 September 2003 Eoin O’Broin (2), Belfast, 5 January 2004 Eoin O’Broin (3), Belfast, 12 June 2004 Sean O’Callaghan (former IRA informer who rose to become senior member of IRA and member of Sinn Féin ard chomhairle in early 1980s) (1), London, 22 November 2005 Sean O’Callaghan (2), London, 12 September 2006 240

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Television programmes ‘Martin McGuinness’, BBC 1, 30 October 2002

Online resources 10 Downing Street Website, available at , last accessed 12 February 2008 ARK Northern Ireland Social and Political Archive, available at , last accessed 12 February 2008 BBC News Online, available at , last accessed 12 February 2008 Britannica Online Encyclopedia, available at , last accessed 12 February 2008 British Irish Rights Watch, available at , last accessed 12 February 2008 CAIN Web Service: Northern Ireland Conflict, Politics and Society. Information on the ‘Troubles’, available at , last accessed 12 February 2008 Centre for Public Inquiry available at , last accessed 10 November 2006 CNN Online, available at , last accessed 12 February 2008 Department of the Taoiseach available at , last accessed 4 March 2008 Elections Ireland, available at , last accessed 10 November 2006 ‘Eighth Report of the Independent Monitoring Commission (January 2006)’ available at http://www.ireland.com/newspaper/special/2006/imcfeb1/index.pdf Eirigi available at , last accessed 5 March 2008 Finfacts Ireland available at , last accessed 28 November 2006

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Index on the ‘lessons’ of Northern Ireland, 172 on Towards a Lasting Peace, 76 on Unionism, 25–6, 78, 125, 154, 173 popularity in Republic of Ireland, 138, 155, 163 press conference with Ian Paisley, 1 reaction to 9/11 attacks, 147 reaction to Enniskillen, 64 re-elected MP, 103 relations with the George W. Bush administration, 149, 164, 175–6 response to IRA criminality accusations, 159, 161–2 response to Peter Brooke’s speeches, 80 Adams–McGuinness leadership, see republican leadership advice centres, 28 African National Congrees (ANC), see South African analogy Ahern, Bertie, 101, 138, 152, 154, 159, 164, 165, 167–8 Ahern, Dermot, 159 Alonso, Rogelio, 8 al-Qaeda, 102, 147, 165 Anderson, Martina, 13 Anglo–Irish Agreement, 48–50 anti-Americanism, 146 ‘anti-establishment politics’, 18, 71, 138–40, 179 see also ‘radical’/left-wing politics ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ strategy, 1–2, 10, 12, 182, 185 Austin, Joe, 49

abstentionism debate, 65–7 Adair, Johnny, 84 Adams, Gerry addresses Dublin Chamber of Commerce (2004), 142 addresses Northern Ireland Chamber of Commerce (1998), 141–2 appeal to the IRA (2005), 165 approach to Haughey, 61–2, 74 approach to King, 74–5 approaches to Hume and the SDLP, 49, 61, 71, 88, 90 as ‘Brownie’, 10–11, 21 becomes party president, 12 central republican leadership figure, 4, 12 criticism of internally, 190 defeated at 1992 British general election, 85 identified as senior IRA member, 140, 159, 162 member of Northern American Committee, 68 objectives in negotiations, 104, 105 on abstentionism, 65–6, 69–70 on Bruton, 98 on competition with the SDLP, 45, 52–3 on divorce policy, 39 on international peace processes, 81 on the IRA’s campaign, 24, 42, 60, 63, 84, 100 on the IRA’s ceasefire, 97, 98 on nature of Sinn Féin, 138, 157, 185 on need for pan-nationalist approach, 52, 54 on need for peace strategy, 59 on need to develop Sinn Féin, 20, 69, 180 on policing, 176 on problems with the ‘southern strategy’, 46, 69–70, 72 on ‘republicanization’, 21 on socialism, 33, 36, 40, 53, 136 on southern Irish nationalism, 58, 135 on Thatcher, 80 on the Anglo-Irish Agreement, 50 on the Good Friday Agreement, 102, 109, 111, 167

Balcombe Street gang, 110 Basque Country contacts, 146–7, 171–2 Belfast Agreement, see Good Friday Agreement Bell, Ivor, 42 Benn, Tony, 44 Beresford, David, 15 Bew, Paul, 108 Blair, Tony, 100–1, 130, 150, 159, 164, 165, 167, 173 Bobby Sands Discussion Group, 116 Bourke, Richard, 5, 10, 35 Brooke, Peter, 64, 80 Brooke–Mayhew talks, 85, 89, 104 248

Index Bruton, John, 97–8, 127 Bush, George W., 146 Butler, Lord, 164 Cahill, Joe, 68 Campbell, Sheena, 83 Carey, Malachy, 83 Carron, Owen, 20, 37 Casey, Thomas, 83 Cassidy, Danny, 83 Castlereagh break-in (2002), 150 Catholic Church, Sinn Féin relations with the, 38–9 Céad Blain celebrations, 157 Centre for Public Inquiry, 179–80 Coalition of Communities Against Drugs (COCAD), 136 Collins, Eamon, 39–40 Collins, Michael, 109, 111, 112–13 collusion, Sinn Féin use of, 152–3 ‘Columbia Three’ episode, 147–8 ‘community politics’, 17, 26–32, 69, 184 ‘Comprehensive Agreement’ negotiations (2004), 153–5, 158 Concerned Parents Against Drugs (CPAD), 30–2, 69 ‘Concerned Republicans’, 177, 192 Connolly, Frank, 179 Connolly, James, 33, 53–5 ‘Connolly versus Pearse’ debate, 53–5 ‘Continuity’ IRA, 16 Coogan, Tim Pat, 61, 112 Cory, Peter, 153 Cox, Michael, 80 Crowe, Sean, 13, 103, 180, 181 Cunningham, Martin, 117 Davey, John, 83 De Bréadún, Deaglan, 16 de Brun, Bairbre, 13, 143–4, 156 de Chastelain, John, 167 decommissioning controversy, 96–8, 99–101, 122–3, 124–5, 147, 167 ‘dissent’ versus ‘dictatorship’ controversy, 115–21, 186–7, 191 Doherty, Pat, 13, 36, 103, 145, 186 Donaghy, Thomas, 83 Donaldson, Denis, 9, 13, 83, 116–17, 118, 190–1 Downing Street Declaration, 91–4, 104 Doyle, Dawn, 125–6, 141, 143, 144 Dugdale, Rosie, 55 Durkan, Mark, 166 drugs, activism against, 29, 30–2, 69, 136 Drumm, Jimmy, 6, 26

249

Dudley Edwards, Ruth, 127 Dukes, Alan, 72 Eire Nua, 25, 78 Eirigi, 191 elections 1981 British by-election, 20 1982 Irish general election (February), 46, 135 1982 Irish general election (November), 43 1982 Northern Ireland Assembly election, 20 1983 British general election, 20, 37 1984 European election, 45 1985 Northern Ireland local election, 45, 47 1986 British by-elections, 50–1 1987 Irish general election, 69–70 1989 European election, 72 1989 Irish general election, 72 1989 Northern Ireland local election, 72 1991 Irish local election, 84 1992 British general election, 85 1994 European election, 93 1994 Irish local election, 93 1996 Northern Ireland Forum election, 103 1997 British general election, 103 1997 Irish general election, 103, 133 1999 Irish local election, 133 2001 British general election, 131–2 2002 Irish general election, 139 2003 Northern Ireland Assembly election, 132, 133, 152, 153 2004 European election, 18, 133, 156 2004 Irish local election, 18, 156 2005 British general election, 165–6 2005 British local election, 165 2005 Irish by-election, 163 2007 Irish general election, 18, 181, 186 2007 Northern Ireland Assembly election, 178 electoral failure for Sinn Féin, 17, 45–6, 69–70, 71–3, 84–5, 181, 184, 186 electoral success for Sinn Féin, 103, 126, 156, 157, 178, 185 electoralism, origins, 9–11, 21 Ellis, Dessie, 57, 139 Empey, Sir Reg, 169 English, Richard, 8, 34 ETA, see Basque Country contacts

250 Index ‘ethnic nationalism’, Sinn Féin use of, 17, 37–8, 56, 126–9, 184 extradition, Sinn Fein campaign against, 56–7 FARC, see ‘Columbia Three’ episode Feeney, Bill ‘Chuck’, 179–80 Feeney, Brian, 3–4, 5, 76 Ferris, Martin, 13, 103, 136, 140, 162 ‘fighting while negotiating’ strategy, 23–4, 63–5, 75, 77, 88, 183, 184 Finlay, Fergus, 107 Flannery, Michael, 68 Flood, Feargus, 179 Flood Tribunal, 138 Flynn, Bill, 148 Fox, Bernard, 191 ‘Frameworks’ Documents, 95–6, 104 Fullerton, Eddie, 83 Galvin, Martin, 68 Gibney, Jim focus on internal republican unity, 110 focus on southern politics, 132, 133 member of the republican leadership, 13 on 1992 election defeat, 85 on Adams’ appeal to the IRA (2005), 165 on ‘Columbia Three’ episode, 148 on damage done by criminality accusations, 157, 162 on Hume–Adams contacts, 88 on impact of 1981 hunger strike, 9, 11, 180 on importance of southern nationalism, 57, 92 on internal republican debate, 117, 120–1, 144 on international outlook of republicans, 33–4 on nature of the republican leadership, 9, 12, 14 on peace process objectives, 74, 87, 95, 101, 134 on Sinn Féin advice centres, 28 on socialism, 33 on Thatcher, 80 on the Anglo–Irish Agreement, 50 on the ‘new realism’, 75 on use of ambiguity, 117–18 reassessing the IRA’s campaign, 76 Sinn Féin national organiser, 11 Godson, Dean, 99, 107, 125

Goode, Rev. Harold, 167 Good Friday Agreement, 18, 107–115, 121–2, 185 see also republican leadership, portrayal of the Good Friday Agreement Gorman, Tommy, 118 Green, Leo, 13 Guelke, Adrian, 81 Haas, Richard, 152 Hain, Peter, 168, 177–8 Harney, Mary, 159 Harris, Eoghan, 181 Hartley, Tom contribution to abstentionism debate, 67 head of Sinn Féin ‘Prisoner of War’ department, 11–12 member of republican leadership, 13 on flexibility, 186 on international outlook of republicans, 34 on the IRA’s military campaign, 64 on the ‘republican wedge’, 57 Haughey, Charles, 61–2, 88 ‘Heads of Agreement’ document, 104 Hejlesen, Jesper, 28 Holy Cross school dispute, 123 housing activism, 29–30, 136 Howell, Ted, 13, 68 Hughes, Brendan, 68, 118 Hume, John, 45, 48, 51, 60–1, 89 Hume–Adams document, 90–2 hunger strike (1981), impact of, 9, 11, 20 ideology, see republican leadership: ideology Independent International Commission on Decommissioning (IICD), 167 Independent Monitoring Commission (IMC), 150, 160, 168, 173, 174 ‘internal deal’ in Northern Ireland, Sinn Féin fear of, 17, 21–2, 47–8, 51, 58, 85–6, 89, 183–4 internationalism (of Sinn Féin), 33–5, 43, 80–2, 145–7, 171–2 Iraq war, opposition to, 120, 148–9, 150 Iris Bheag, 54, 55, 70, 119 Irish America and Sinn Féin, 68, 87–8, 89, 147–8, 164 Irish constitution, 108 Irish Northern Aid Committee (NORAID), see Irish America and Sinn Féin

Index Irish Republican Army (‘Provisional’ IRA), 1975 truce, 27–8 1994 ceasefire, 94 1997 ceasefire, 101 ‘community policing’, 27, 69 criminality accusations, 18, 158–61, 182, 185 failing military campaign, 17 formal end to military campaign, 1, 18, 166–7, 185 issues threats (2005), 160 operations: Brighton bomb (1994), 24, 44; Canary Wharf bomb (1990), 77; Canary Wharf bomb (1996), 96, 98; Carlton Club attack (1990), 77; Deal barracks bomb (1989), 65; Direct Action Against Drugs (DAAD) murders, 98; Downing Street mortar attack (1991), 77; Enniskillen bomb (1987), 64–5; Frank Kerr murder (1994), 98; Harrods bomb (1983), 24, 44; Hyde Park bomb (1983), 24; Jerry McCabe murder (1996), 100; Loughgall (1987); Manchester bombing (1996), 100; money-laundering (2005), 160; Northern Bank Robbery (2004), 18, 158–60, 185; post-1994 ‘punishment’ attacks, 98; post-1998 ‘punishment’ attacks, 159, 164; Shankill road bombing (1993), 84; Stock Exchange, London attack (1990), 77 property ‘empire’, 173 relationship with Sinn Féin, 2–3, 183, 185 view of the Good Friday Agreement, 107–8, 114 Israeli–Palestinian conflict analogy, 35, 82, 145–6, 172 Joint Declaration of the British and Irish Governments (2003), 168 Jordan, Neil, 112 Kearney, Declan, 13, 183, 189 Keenan, Brian, 13, 38 Keenan, Sean, 41 Kehoe, Nicky, 139, 181 Kelly, Gerry, 13, 15, 121, 128, 175 Kelly, John, 116, 117, 144 Kelly, Sean, 168 King Tom, 74–5 Kinnock, Neil, 44

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Labour Party (UK), 43–4 Laver, Michael, 139 League of Communist Republicans, 67 Left Republican Review, 119–20 Lemass, Sean, 2 Lennon, Danny, 59 Livingstone, Ken, 44 ‘Long War’ strategy, 10, 23 MacBride Principles, 56 MacLochlainn, Gerry, 67–8, 102 MacManus, Sean, 139, 143 Maguire, Tom, 54 Maharaj, ‘Mac’ Sathyandranath Ragunanan, 113 Maillot, Agnès, 5, 7, 66 ‘mainstream politics’, Sinn Féin involvement in, 17, 51, 68, 70–1, 141–3, 155–6, 184 Major, John, 89, 91, 92, 100–1 Mallie, Eamonn, 90, 92 Mallon, Seamus, 48 Mandelson, Peter, 164 Mansergh, Martin, 61–2 Mao, Tse Tung, 41, 119 Marsh, Michael, 139 Maskey, Alex, 13 Maze prison escape (1983), 189 McAllister, Jim, 69, 71 McAteer, Aidan, 13 McAuley, Chrissie, 13 McAuley, Richard, 13, 86 McCann, Fra, 30 McCartney, Robert, 18, 160, 185 McCracken Tribunal, 138 McCreevy, Charlie, 136–7 McDonald, Mary-Lou, 13, 156, 181 McDowell, Michael, 140, 159, 162 McElduff, Barry, 135, 144 McFarlane, Brendan, 13, 180 McGuigan, Philip, 171 McGuinness, Martin calls for dialogue, 95 Deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland, 1, 18, 158, 178, 182, 185 Education Minister, 143 elected MP, 103 identified as senior IRA member, 140, 159, 162 in Sri Lanka, 172 member of the republican leadership, 13 on British withdrawal, 22 on decommissioning, 97 on IMC, 173

252 Index McGuinness, Martin – continued on possible internment, 50 on prospects for 2007 Irish general election, 181 on question of British ‘neutrality’, 77–8 on the Good Friday Agreement, 114 on the IRA campaign, 64, 73 reassessing the IRA’s campaign, 76 response to Peter Brooke (1989), 63–4 response to IRA criminality accusations, 159, 161 McHugh, Gerry, 191 McIlveen, Michael, 171 McIntyre, Anthony on Adams, 37–8 on Hume–Adams, 90 on nature of the republican leadership, 16 on origins of the peace process, 75 on suppression of internal republican debate, 55–6, 116 on the Good Friday Agreement, 111–12, 118, 167 on the peace process, 151 McKearney, Tommy, 67 McKeown, Laurence, 13 McKittrick, David, 90, 92 McLaughlin, Mitchel calls for dialogue, 77 defeat in 2005 British general election, 166 heckled by anti-war movement, 149 member of the republican leadership, 13 on demographics in Northern Ireland, 114 on Jean McConville murder, 161 on the political failures of Sinn Féin, 72–3 on the Sinn Féin ‘peace strategy’, 47, 59 on reformism, 41 on Unionism, 78, 105–6, 130 response to IRA criminality accusations, 159 Mellows, Liam, 33 Millar, Frank, 176 Mitchell Principles, 99–101, 104 Molloy, Francie, 39, 102, 120, 186 Moloney, Ed, 4, 61–2, 63, 74–5, 94, 101 Monaghan, Jim, 55, 64 Morgan, Arthur, 13 Moriarty Tribunal, 138

Morrison, Danny and the ‘Armalite and the ballot box’ strategy, 1–2 Director of publicity, 11 meetings with the SDLP, 49 member of the republican leadership, 14 objectives in negotiations, 105 on abstentionism, 66 on Brooke–Mayhew talks, 85 on competition with the SDLP, 45 on impact of end of the Cold War, 81 on internal republican debate, 115, 187 on IRA campaign, 23, 42, 50, 60, 75, 86 on nature of the republican leadership, 14–15 on Peter Brooke’s speeches, 80 on Sinn Féin housing activism, 30 on socialism, 36 on southern Irish nationalism, 58 on the Anglo–Irish Agreement, 50 on the Catholic Church, 38 on the republican veto, 132 on Unionism, 25–6 Mtintso, Thenjiwe, 113 Mules, Daisy, 11, 36 Mullin, Pat, 67 Murphy, Conor, 13, 109, 142, 144 Murphy, Paul, 159 Murray, Gerard, 5–6, 108 negotiations approach of Sinn Féin, 104, 124–5, 127–9, 153–5, 164, 169, 170–1, 185 debate over preconditions, 93, 99–101 importance to Sinn Féin, 94–6, 101 New Ireland Forum, 47–8 ‘new realism’, 17, 75–6 Nice Treaty, 139–40 North–South Ministerial Council, 115, 134 Nuacht Feirste, 53 Ó Brádaigh, Ruairi, 11, 12, 25, 34, 35, 67, 135 Ó Brádaigh, Sean, 11 O’Brien, Denis, 142 O’Broin, Eoin on internal republican debate, 117, 119–20, 121 on nationalist credentials of Sinn Féin, 135

Index on Sinn Féin community politics, 28, 136 on Unionism, 123 opposition to coalition government in the south, 144 O’Callaghan, Sean on Adams and McGuinness, 38 on fear of internment, 64 on ‘fighting while negotiating strategy’, 23–4 on reassessing the IRA’s campaign, 86, 87 on republican fear of an ‘internal deal’, 22 on Sinn Féin’s anti-drugs activism, 31, 32 on Sinn Féin’s appeal to Hume, 60 on the Anglo–Irish Agreement, 51, 131 Ó Caoláin, Caoimhghín, 13, 103, 137, 138, 141 O’Conaill, Daithi, 11, 25, 35, 67 O’Connor, Fionnula, 32 O’Connor, Frank, 15 O’Connor, Joan, 146 O’Dea, Willie, 2, 163 O’Doherty, Malachi, 7, 27 ‘Official’ republican movement, 34, 39–40, 54, 66 Ógra Shinn Féin, 134 O’Hagan, Brendan, 83 O’Hagan, Des, 37 O’Hanlon, Siobhan, 13 O’Hare, Rita, 13 O’Muilleor, Mairtin, 39, 53, 70 O’Neill, Laurence, 191 Orange Order, 126–7 Orde, Hugh, 158 O’Reilly, Joe, 139, 163 O’Seanachchain, Padraig, 83 O’Toole, Larry, 139 Paisley, Ian, 1, 153–4, 158, 168, 169, 171, 173, 178, 182 Palestinian Liberation Organisation (PLO), see Israeli–Palestinian conflict analogy ‘pan-nationalist alliance’, 17, 48–50, 51–2, 52–8, 60–3, 87, 88–94, 97–8, 101, 102, 104, 106–7, 184, 185 parades disputes, see Orange Order ‘party of protest’ versus ‘party of government’ controversy, 143–50 Patterson, Henry, 5, 6, 10, 63, 91, 127 peace process, Sinn Féin narrative of, 122–31, 150–5, 158, 167–73, 185

253

peace strategy, 17, 47, 51, 58–65, 103, 184, 190–1 Phoenix, Ian, 83, 91 Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI), Sinn Féin policy, 128–9, 174–8, 190–1 policing policy, see Police Service of Northern Ireland policy development (1990s), 140–3 ‘radical’/left-wing politics, 17, 18, 35–7, 135–8, 145–6, 184 Rafter, Kevin, 7–8, 20 Ramophosa, Cyril, 113 ‘Real’ IRA, 16, 102, 104, 110, 165 reformism debate (internal), 41–2 refuse charges, opposition to, 136, 143 Reid, Father Alec, 49, 61–2, 74, 167, 169 Reiss, Mitchell, 175–6 ‘republican veto’, 18, 22–3, 45, 107, 132, 183–4, 185 ‘republican wedge’ strategy, 57 republican leadership composition of, 11–14, 16 dissident criticism of, 118, 177, 191–2 focus on internal unity, 67, 109–10, 118 , 145, 186–7, 191 ideological objectives, 3, 16, 21–3, 24, 48, 51–2, 87–8, 93–4, 115, 129–32, 166, 183–6, 187–90, 192 in negotiations, 104, 105 portrayal of the Good Friday Agreement, 110–15, 122–4, 185, 188 pragmatism, 8, 36–7, 145, 183, 186, 188–90, 192 shared prison experience, 15 view of IRA’s military campaign, 22–3, 42–3, 63–5, 73, 75–7, 82–8, 99–100, 101, 102, 183, 184 view of post-ceasefire IRA, 103 view of southern Irish nationalism, 58, 91–2 view of the British state, 25, 77–9, 183 view of Unionism, 25, 78–9, 105–6, 123–5, 129–31, 187 ‘republicanization’, 17, 21–3, 46, 184 Reynolds, Albert, 88, 91, 94, 97 Robinson, Peter, 176 Rollins, Kevin, 142 Sandinista analogy, 35 Sands, Bobby, 9, 11, 20 Scappaticci, Freddie, 83, 118, 191 Scenario for Peace, A 59

254 Index Schulze, Kirsten, 96 secret talks with British government, 80 Sluka, Jeff, 27 Smith, Mike, 7, 10, 84, 96 Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP) alliance with Sinn Fein, see ‘pan-nationalist alliance’ and the Anglo–Irish Agreement, 50–1 competition with Sinn Féin, 22, 45, 85, 127–9, 131–2, 178 ideological differences/similarities with Sinn Féin, 5–6, 52–3, 91 talks with Sinn Féin, 60–2, 88 socio-economic policy, 36, 39, 70–1, 135–9, 141–2, 143–5, 179–80 Soley, Clive, 44 South African analogy, 35, 82, 113–14 southern strategy, 6–7, 18, 26, 45–6, 84–5, 133–5, 170, 179–80 Special Air Service (SAS), 83 St Andrews Agreement, 174–8 Stormont spy-ring (2002), 150 support base, 32 Swift, Bernice, 191

‘Tactical Use of Armed Struggle’ (TUAS), 17, 87, 96, 97–8, 99, 100–1, 102, 104, 151 Thatcher, Margaret, 80 Tonge, Jonathan, 5–6, 108 Towards a Lasting Peace, 76, 90 Trimble, David, 104, 107, 122, 123, 125, 130, 151 Ulster Democratic Party (UDP), 95 Ulster Freedom Fighters (UFF), 83 Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF), 83 Unionism Sinn Féin approach to, 18, 122–5, 129–31, 150, 153–5, 168–71, 185 see also republican leadership, view of Unionism von Clausewitz, Carl, 101 Walsh, Seanna, 13, 166–7 Way Forward initiative (1999), 125, 130 Wilson, Padraig, 13, 110 World Social Forum, 120