Authors: Raymond Murray
Tags: #Europe, #Ireland, #General, #History, #Political Science, #Human Rights, #Political Freedom & Security, #british intelligence, #Political prisoners, #Civil Rights, #Politics and government, #collusion, #IRA, #State Violence, #Great Britain, #paramilitaries, #Northern Ireland, #British Security forces, #loyalist, #Political persecution, #1969-1994
State Violence (18 page)
At a distance it may be difficult for people in Britain to assess the depth and permanence of peace in Ireland, especially as they try to judge it from the public positions taken by governments, political parties and factions. Particular questions such as decommissioning of arms, radical reform of the RUC, release of prisoners, and possible ways of sharing power in government are much in the news. Let me give the sincere and strong opinion of a person who is not only on the ground in the north of Ireland but is in touch with the âjungle' behind the public scene. I believe that peace will be solid, permanent and indeed buoyant. I can say that honestly from my personal contacts with leading republicans in Derry, Belfast, East Tyrone and South Armagh. Beyond the political bickering, marching seasons, and punishment beatings that sometimes characterise Northern Ireland there is a commitment to peace. Do not be deceived by occasional signs of despondency and apparent set-backs. What is a year, what is two years for people to dialogue? The Irish government and the British government will continue to give the peace process appropriate nudges â they have gained a lot of discernment over the years and they will move things prudently. The only criticism voiced is that they should speed up the momentum. The general populace will sustain the peace â after all it is our small communities who have suffered most â over 150 for instance killed in my own little community. Many of the grievances, social and political, that led to the civil rights movement have been solved â the discrimination in housing ended in the 1970s, there are constant efforts to off-set the deprivation of dignity suffered by generations of unemployed, and there is legislation which hopefully will whittle away discrimination in job opportunities and promotion. The general oppression of the culture of Catholics, be they nationalists or republicans, is ending. Furthermore, both Britain and Ireland have been overtaken by the external influences of the new Europe and the end of the Cold War â the single common market is bearing fruit in Ireland as border towns return to natural hinterlands and economic unity is fast becoming a reality â hundreds of thousands of people from the south of Ireland, as far away as Galway and Dublin, are crowding the Belfast shops daily for their Christmas shopping. Armagh is only seven miles from the border and is linked socially, economically and culturally with neighbouring County Monaghan in the Irish Republic. Clones is the central mecca for the big Gaelic football matches of the nine-county Ulster. Local government in Northern Ireland, apart from Belfast which drags behind the rest, has seen a miracle of co-operation of all parties with a conscientious sharing of traditions. You can hear programmes in Gaelic from Radio Ulster; historical societies embracing people of every background have mushroomed â a sign that people have been asking âwho are we?' âwhat are we?' â âare our traditions necessarily opposed?' A lot of soul searching has led to a change of heart and attitudes of many people, and new beautiful friendships have blossomed. Ecumenism too is improving in this general quiet revolution. The physical aspects of the war are disappearing â military vehicles and foot patrols, security barriers, closed border roads, observation posts; the reduction of expenditure on security, just announced, means transference of resources to more fruitful causes.
In this context let me say that the release of prisoners has an amazing effect on the good will of relatives and friends. That has always been the case but is even truer today. My colleague Fr Denis Faul and I, even at the worst of times, have often called the release of prisoners the key to peace. A softer compassionate line towards prisoners is a healing remedy to both sides of the community in Northern Ireland. Out of the thousands of ex-prisoners very few have reverted to paramilitary activity in the past twenty-five years. In fact I have been amazed to see over the years how ex-prisoners in the border counties of Armagh and Monaghan have slipped quietly back into the community. They have a lot of life to catch up on and many have little time for politics again; they are little seen or heard. At the present time there is absolutely no question of ex-prisoners resuming a paramilitary role. The Irish government has recognised the good effect of the release of prisoners. They have steadily released them over the past year. The Northern Ireland Office has by act of parliament enabled the restoration of 50% remission so that almost a hundred prisoners will be released at Christmas. We hope for a similar softening attitude from British prisons â better conditions for Irish prisoners and releases to their homes in Ireland. That to us is the best rehabilitation. The harsh treatment of a prisoner like Paddy Kelly shocked the Irish members of parliament of all parties from Dublin when they visited here and they expressed their resentment in the media when they returned home. A rigid attitude in Britain jars with the situation at present in Ireland. A quiet even happy atmosphere pervades the prisons north and south â there are now excellent relations between officers and prisoners.
People got involved in the IRA for various reasons at various times. Because of the complication of various contexts and the varied temperaments of persons involved in the IRA one should be careful not to impose a general stock condemnatory judgement on individual republican prisoners. There has always been room for change in the inner attitudes of people. I would have to say also that republican prisoners have been noted for honouring their word â they have always obeyed parole conditions to the letter. Prison officers in Ireland know that if they say they are not going to be involved again in a military way that they mean it. Certainly now the context is one of a revolutionary peace process. Republicans have been building up political power since the hunger strikes of the early 1980s. This political movement of republicans has now definitely taken the upper hand; the energy of militants is being educated and moulded into democratic politics. Witness the acceptance of Irish republicans by Dublin, Washington, the democratic nationalists of the north of Ireland and the cautious Northern Ireland Office. It has gone beyond the formal handshakes. The competence of political leaders like Gerry Adams, Martin Magennis and Mitchel McLaughlin is recognised. Everyone in the United States is familiar with the charismatic figure of Gerry Adams whereas the secretary of state Sir Patrick Mayhew is hardly known. Such a wry remark was made to me by a smiling high-ranking official in the Northern Ireland Office. It would be impossible now for republicans to forfeit their political progress and lose a figure like Adams. A number of happy circumstances have brought about the peace process. Republicans are realistic to know that these will never occur again. I can not imagine that the governments in Dublin and London will allow Irish republicans to be humiliated or isolated. It seems counter-productive to Irish people at home that republicans continue to be held for long long years in prisons in England. Deterrence is not now as important as formerly. In the new peace process context Irish republicans are respected. There will be a place for them in society, in government and even in security as compromises are worked out. It is logical that it should no longer be a black mark in peace time for a prisoner in Britain to hold Irish republican democratic principles. To record a prisoner's adherence to such principles as an obstacle to release seems outdated. Happy to say that a tolerant official attitude now exists in the prisons in Northern Ireland and in the Republic of Ireland.
Personally speaking as a former prison chaplain and priest active during the conflict, I believe that long term prisoners are entitled to a new beginning in their lives. Republicans and loyalist leaders have expressed public regret for their atrocities and crimes. I can say that some prisoners will express privately to ministers of religion their sadness that people have suffered at their hands while they are often reluctant to say the same things to prison officials. On the other hand government bodies have lacked the humility to express regret for state crimes. Moderate Catholic opinion in Ireland was appalled at the injustice done to the Birmingham Six, the Guildford Four, the Maguire Seven, the torture and ill-treatment in interrogation centres, atrocities like Bloody Sunday and the 150 unjust killings and murders of innocent and unarmed people by security forces. There has not been fair play and justice for the relatives of victims, some of them children, who have been killed by the lead and plastic bullets of security forces. A few soldiers only, and no RUC men, have been sentenced for these crimes. The few soldiers who have were released after a few paltry years. In contrast, Irish prisoners have been held in harsh conditions in English prisons for extremely long periods; moderate opinion in Ireland regards that unequal treatment as contrary to fair play and justice and harmful to the name of police and judiciary and some people even view it as revenge.
An abbreviated version of this statement in favour of an Irish prisoner was submitted to the Parole Board of Full Sutton Prison, England, in 1995. I appeared before the board on his behalf.
The Death of Stephen McConomy, 16 April 1982
Seventeen people have been killed by rubber and plastic bullets in Northern Ireland. Eight of them were children and one was a woman. Hundreds of people have been seriously injured. There has been widespread indiscriminate use of them and they have been used in non-riot situations. Despite two international tribunals of enquiry into the deaths and injuries caused by them, 3â4 August 1981 and 16 October 1982, organised by the Association for Legal Justice, they are still in use in Northern Ireland. All the fatal casualties except one have been Catholics. Their deadly misuse has been chronicled in
British army Terror: Brian Stewart
(by Brian Brady, Denis Faul, Raymond Murray, 1976),
Rubber & Plastic Bullets Kill & Maim
(Denis Faul, Raymond Murray, 1981),
Plastic Bullets â Plastic Government
(Denis Faul, Raymond Murray, 1982),
They Shoot Children
(Liz Curtis, Information on Ireland, 1982), and
A Report on the Misuse of the Baton Round in the North of Ireland
(Submission by the United Campaign against Plastic Bullets to the Mitchell Commission, 1996).
On 16 April 1982, the sun was shining in Derry. Mrs Maria McConomy, mother of three little boys, was up early and got all her housework done. On account of the good day she thought she would make an early dinner. She went down to the Market Flats to collect her eldest son Stephen. Stephen, somewhat of a loner, was standing at the wall. He was eleven years old but perhaps made a little older by life itself, almost acting as a tiny father figure in the family, since his father and mother were separated for the past four years. All came in and had their dinner.
After dinner Stephen lay around the sofa waiting for his mother's permission to go out again. The mother, who was very close to him and often shared her secrets with him read his mind. âSon,' she said, âyou want to go out again?' âAye, Ma', he said. Outside the house he turned back and opened the wee window of the kitchen to say a few words to his mother. âMa,' he said, âI'll be in at half-eight'. Her little boy, or her âWee Un', as Derry folk are wont to say, had a lovely face. People always remarked how his whole face lit up with a smile. She never saw him alive again.
That evening between eight and half-past eight, just the time when Stephen would have turned from his play to head home, he was at Fahan Street which lies under the shadow of Derry Walls and runs down from Butcher's Gate. The Rossville Flats tower over the area. There is a lower group of dwellings called Joseph's Place at an elevation and there a balcony and ramp run to connect up with the roadway.
Around eight o'clock, Martin Moore went to Donagh Flats in the Rossville Flats to visit his girlfriend, Elaine McGrory. On his way he saw a saracen parked on the slip roadway running down from Butcher's Gate. There was a bomb scare up at Butcher's Gate. Things were quiet as is usual when there is a bomb scare. RUC men were stationed on the wall above Fahan Street. He saw five or six children playing around the saracen. The remarkable thing was that they had a tricolour and they were placing it over the front of the jeep. A âgame' was going on between the soldiers and the little boys. He remarked on this when he went in to the McGrory flat. Elaine, Rosemary, Mrs McGrory and Martin went to the window to look out. The windows are very big and there is a fantastic bird's eye view from the big windows. The flat is on the eighth storey.
On the same evening, James Meenan of Lisfanan Park was coming from his home to the Rossville Flats. He saw the saracen parked halfway down Fahan Street. He saw the children throwing a few stones at the saracen, four or five children, he thought, about 10 to 12 years old. He walked up to Joseph's Place which meant he was standing above the saracen. He noticed Stephen at the front of the saracen. He was wearing a brown bomber jacket. A friend, John White, joined James at this time at Joseph's Place. Both of them were watching what was going on.
High up in the Donagh Flats, Mark O'Donnell was also watching the scene from his window. This was at 8.05pm. He noticed the saracen starting and revving as if to charge the youngsters. He noticed one boy with a stick hitting the saracen. James Meenan says he saw four or five boys at the back of the saracen and one was trying to pull the shields off the sides of it. All those who were watching saw the latch come down on the driver's side. They were frozen with apprehension when they saw the plastic bullet gun coming out. Four or five of the boys turned to run towards Rossville Street. Stephen was at the front. He had been watching them trying to tear the shields off the side of the saracen. Stephen turned as if to go away, his two hands in his pockets. He mounted the footpath. Then the bang. The force of the shot lifted him on to the grass. He lay lifeless.
James Meenan and John White ran down the ramp to where he was lying. James shouted at the driver of the saracen, âCan we get the Wee Un?' He did not answer but kept the plastic bullet gun out. He shouted again, âCan I get the child?' The driver said, âGo near him and I'll shoot you'. People were shouting, âCan we go up?' They still did not answer. The soldier who fired the plastic bullet had a grin on his face.
James describes how they got him to the hospital:
âTwo or three minutes later, the passenger soldier in the “Pig” said, “You can go up and get him now”. My friend and I ran up and we were crouched down with our hands over our faces because he still had the plastic bullet gun out of the hatch. I lifted Stephen and carried him towards Joseph's Place. We were in the car park and an RUC jeep came around. My friend John White banged on the side of the jeep and on the side door and they told us to put him in the back. Both of us placed him in and went with him. The RUC said the ambulance was meeting us halfway across the bridge. We went to Altnagelvin Hospital and there was no one to meet us. I carried Stephen into casualty and I laid him on the bed in the casualty. The nurse told me to take him into the next room and lay him on the bed. We walked out then and waited. CID men came up about twenty minutes later and asked me and John White to go to the barracks. I said I wanted to stay and see how Stephen was doing. They said they would bring me back but they did not. When I lifted the boy, I noticed he had been hit on the back of the head. In the jeep I held my arm under his neck and blood went through my jacket, jumper and shirt. At times he was not breathing; other times he was breathing in thick jerks; he was unconscious the whole time.'
View of Donagh Flats. Figures from left to right mark where Stephen lay, where he was hit and the position of the saracan.
Mrs McConomy heard the news at her sister's when a little boy came knocking to say the he had been âhit with a plastic'. Then followed the traumatic visit to Altnagelvin and the watching by his bedside at the Royal Victoria Hospital, Belfast. There was no hope for Stephen. His head had been cracked and his brain damaged. He died on Monday afternoon.
There was strong reaction to the death of Stephen. There was some rioting in Derry. Angry mothers staged a protest march from the Bogside to the Guildhall. Bishop Daly said, âThere have been too many deaths and serious injuries in Derry and elsewhere in the north in recent years through the use of plastic bullets. The whole question of their use should be subjected to the most careful scrutiny. This supposedly non-lethal weapon has caused so many deaths and serious injuries that it should not be used again whatever the circumstances before a detailed inquiry takes place'. His words were voiced by many others.
More than a thousand people attended the Requiem Mass for Stephen at Saint Columba's Church. Among the congregation were children from Saint John's primary school where Stephen had been a pupil. During the Mass the school choir sang the hymns and members of Stephen's class read the lessons, the prayers of the faithful and presented the offertory gifts. Bishop Edward Daly presided at the Mass which was celebrated by Fr Michael Collins and Fr Séamus Kelly.
The RUC promised an urgent investigation. On 16 August 1982, the RUC confirmed that the DPP had decided against making charges against the soldiers who fired the plastic bullet which killed the boy. This brought an outcry from churchmen and Catholic politicians. Bishop Daly said he was dismayed at the DPP's refusal to prosecute. He called for clear answers to the question why charges had not been brought in a case where there was an apparent lack of military regulations and death had resulted. So distraught was Mrs Maria McConomy and her sister Rhona that they threatened to go on hunger strike. On 4 July 1983 nine bishops of the northern province issued a statement calling for the withdrawal of plastic bullets as a riot control weapon:
âMany people have been killed by these weapons, some of them very young. Each of these deaths has caused deep grief in the family of the victim. The deaths have generated resentment throughout whole communities and have been the cause of growing alienation among wide sections of the population. The most recent inquest on such a victim, a boy of 11 years old, made the following findings:
1.
It was found that there was insufficient evidence to suggest that Stephen McConomy was rioting when he was shot.
2.
It was found that he was shot from a range of 17 feet when the minimum recommended range is 60 feet.
3.
It was found that the riot gun from which the plastic bullet was fired was faulty.
Rioting is morally wrong but the methods used to control it must also be subject to the moral law. There cannot be one law for the security forces and another for the public. The use of plastic bullets is morally indefensible. The plastic bullet should be withdrawn as a riot control weapon.'
Richard Moore
My parents are William and Florence Moore. I was born on 12 July â what a date! â 1961 and live at 42 Malin Gardens, Creggan estate, Derry. There are twelve in our family â Lily, Margaret, Liam, Jim, Pearse, Bosco, Noel, Martin, Deirdre, Gregory, Richard and Kevin.
On Tuesday 4 May 1972, I was at St Eugene's Primary School. I was ten years old. We got out of school at 3.30pm. There are two schools parallel with one another facing up into Creggan, the primary school and St Joseph's Secondary School. A field, the football pitch of St Joseph's School, runs between both schools. There is a British army base, two army sangers, observation posts, facing up between the two schools at Creggan; they guard Rosemount RUC Barracks.
I got out of school at 3.30pm. Me and my mates began to run up the field. There are various levels in the field, slopes and that. We passed the first army post and I began to slow down and my mates began to run on, you know a matter of yards.
The next thing I remember is waking up in one of the canteens of the school, on the table. That's when I was shot â in that field. I was only four yards away from the sangar when it happened. My brothers and members of the
Derry Journal
later measured it. Mr John Hume was there too. He was a local community leader at that time.
On the table it was more or less pain I felt â so extensive that I did not feel it! â hard to describe it â a massive headache like an illness, and I wasn't fully conscious. I remember a man saying, âWhat is your name?' He was Mr Doherty, my music teacher. That's how bad a shape I was in. He didn't recognise me. When I told him my name, I must have drifted off into unconsciousness.
I remember waking up in the ambulance â heard the sirens, that's how I know â and my father and sister were beside me. In the meantime, when I was lying in the canteen, and it was only a minute's walk from my home, they had got down in time to get on the ambulance. They more or less just asked how I was.
So then it was the hospital. I don't remember much about the hospital. I don't remember when I fully gained consciousness to know where I was and what I was doing. In fact until recently I thought I was shot on 5 May, so my calculations must have been wrong at the time.