Des Dalton doesn't think much of recent commentary on an award winning book on the Northern conflict.
Danny Morrison recently used his blog to platform a review by his “friend” Irish - American writer Timothy O’Grady of Patrick Radden Keefe’s book Say Nothing. The book review was merely a front to launch yet another attack on Dr Anthony McIntyre.
The perverse obsession that senior and former senior members of Provisional Sinn Féin have with Anthony McIntyre is almost inexplicable. Inexplicable when one considers that since at least 1986 there have been a raft of former senior members of the Provisional Movement who have been willing to put their head above the parapet and challenge the various political somersaults performed by what, for the sake of convenience, I will call the Gerry Adams leadership.
Many of these people were serious players within the Republican Movement at both political and military level, in some cases both. Ruairí Ó Brádaigh, Dolours Price, Brendan Hughes, Richard O’Rawe, Tommy McKearney etc. Consequently, what they had to say carried considerable weight. While to a greater or lesser extent many of these people faced a backlash from the Adams camp – one has only to read Richard O’Rawe’s book Afterlives to get a glimpse of the high personal price he paid for exposing the truth of the 1981 hunger strikes – none have faced the same level of sustained attack, physical threat, and character assassination as that endured by Anthony McIntyre over the course of two decades.
The perverse obsession that senior and former senior members of Provisional Sinn Féin have with Anthony McIntyre is almost inexplicable. Inexplicable when one considers that since at least 1986 there have been a raft of former senior members of the Provisional Movement who have been willing to put their head above the parapet and challenge the various political somersaults performed by what, for the sake of convenience, I will call the Gerry Adams leadership.
Many of these people were serious players within the Republican Movement at both political and military level, in some cases both. Ruairí Ó Brádaigh, Dolours Price, Brendan Hughes, Richard O’Rawe, Tommy McKearney etc. Consequently, what they had to say carried considerable weight. While to a greater or lesser extent many of these people faced a backlash from the Adams camp – one has only to read Richard O’Rawe’s book Afterlives to get a glimpse of the high personal price he paid for exposing the truth of the 1981 hunger strikes – none have faced the same level of sustained attack, physical threat, and character assassination as that endured by Anthony McIntyre over the course of two decades.
I say it is almost inexplicable because there is an obvious reason that McIntyre has been the primary target of their malevolent spleen for so long. It is that he has consistently challenged Provisional Sinn Féin’s historical narrative of the 1969 to 1997 war. A narrative carefully constructed over many years by Adams and his close acolytes. Not only did he challenge that narrative but crucially he set out to ensure that the voices of those republican activists who had fought the war would have their narrative preserved and placed on the historical record through his work on the Boston College Project.
The story of the conflict as told by the veterans interviewed by Anthony McIntyre challenged the narrative advanced by Gerry Adams and those close to him. For Provisional Sinn Féin this was the ultimate heresy. And Anthony McIntyre’s punishment for committing this mortal sin was to have calumny cast on his good name, his professional integrity impugned, to be cast into the outer darkness. Thus, all who took it upon themselves to question the historical orthodoxy handed down by the “Great Leader” would be duly warned as to the fate that awaited them.
Danny Morrison introduces the book review by launching a disingenuous attack on the integrity of Anthony McIntyre and the other researchers involved in the Boston College Project. Danny Morrison knows only too well that nobody was “encouraged to incriminate themselves” by taking part in the collection of what was a legitimate and academically sound attempt to gather an oral history of the 1969-97 conflict. If the architects and researchers of the Boston College interviews are guilty of anything it is that they accepted in good faith the narrative peddled by Danny Morrison’s erstwhile political masters that “the war was over” and there was now a new political dispensation for all, including former combatants.
Unfortunately, the British Government had other ideas. Their war certainly was not over as they have shown with their relentless pursuit of veteran republican activists over the intervening years. The much-lauded release of prisoners was of course under licence, licences which could be revoked at the pleasure of the British “Secretary of State for Northern Ireland.” For those serving life sentences their release remains on permanent license. The message to the troops was clear:
The story of the conflict as told by the veterans interviewed by Anthony McIntyre challenged the narrative advanced by Gerry Adams and those close to him. For Provisional Sinn Féin this was the ultimate heresy. And Anthony McIntyre’s punishment for committing this mortal sin was to have calumny cast on his good name, his professional integrity impugned, to be cast into the outer darkness. Thus, all who took it upon themselves to question the historical orthodoxy handed down by the “Great Leader” would be duly warned as to the fate that awaited them.
Danny Morrison introduces the book review by launching a disingenuous attack on the integrity of Anthony McIntyre and the other researchers involved in the Boston College Project. Danny Morrison knows only too well that nobody was “encouraged to incriminate themselves” by taking part in the collection of what was a legitimate and academically sound attempt to gather an oral history of the 1969-97 conflict. If the architects and researchers of the Boston College interviews are guilty of anything it is that they accepted in good faith the narrative peddled by Danny Morrison’s erstwhile political masters that “the war was over” and there was now a new political dispensation for all, including former combatants.
Unfortunately, the British Government had other ideas. Their war certainly was not over as they have shown with their relentless pursuit of veteran republican activists over the intervening years. The much-lauded release of prisoners was of course under licence, licences which could be revoked at the pleasure of the British “Secretary of State for Northern Ireland.” For those serving life sentences their release remains on permanent license. The message to the troops was clear:
Stick to the political programme of Adams and his “Kitchen Cabinet” and you will not be touched, we may even get you a job. Step outside and deign to question the “tablets of stone” or “Good Friday Agreement”, to stick with the biblical and religious imagery so beloved of the “peace processors”, then you would find yourself out in the cold. Or in some cases back behind bars.
Unlike the release of prisoners following previous IRA campaigns since 1921, this one had strings attached. All with the connivance of those who claimed to be the leaders of republicanism. Unlike other theatres of conflict such as South Africa where similar projects have been launched to collect the testimony of former combatants, here the fundamental causes of the conflict have not been resolved.
Timothy O’Grady for whatever reason takes it upon himself, under the guise of a book review, to launch what is but the latest in a long line of such attacks on Anthony McIntyre and the Boston College Project. Not for the first time the basis of this latest attack is both spurious and laced with a particularly nasty and snide attempt to smear Anthony McIntyre. He has two primary criticisms of the project, the first of which is that the interviewees were chosen solely because of their opposition to the so-called ‘Peace Process.’
Unlike Timothy O’Grady I will not attempt to second guess the criteria used to select either Republican or Loyalist interviewees. What I will say is that as a criticism it does not stack up. If indeed Anthony McIntyre and the other researchers did select Republican interviewees on that basis it does not delegitimise the integrity of the project. In the Post-Civil War period, the nascent Free State were determined to not only remove Republicans from all aspects of public life, but also to erase their narrative from any account of the 1916-23 period. In the 1930s and ‘40s Ernie O’Malley sought to counter this by conducting interviews with IRA veterans from across Ireland, the vast majority of whom opposed the 1921 Treaty. Similarly, in the immediate aftermath of the 1998 Belfast Agreement the voices of those republicans opposed to it were marginalised. The likelihood is that their narrative would be similarly ignored or at best given token representation when it came to the recording of the post-1969 conflict.
Timothy O’Grady for whatever reason takes it upon himself, under the guise of a book review, to launch what is but the latest in a long line of such attacks on Anthony McIntyre and the Boston College Project. Not for the first time the basis of this latest attack is both spurious and laced with a particularly nasty and snide attempt to smear Anthony McIntyre. He has two primary criticisms of the project, the first of which is that the interviewees were chosen solely because of their opposition to the so-called ‘Peace Process.’
Unlike Timothy O’Grady I will not attempt to second guess the criteria used to select either Republican or Loyalist interviewees. What I will say is that as a criticism it does not stack up. If indeed Anthony McIntyre and the other researchers did select Republican interviewees on that basis it does not delegitimise the integrity of the project. In the Post-Civil War period, the nascent Free State were determined to not only remove Republicans from all aspects of public life, but also to erase their narrative from any account of the 1916-23 period. In the 1930s and ‘40s Ernie O’Malley sought to counter this by conducting interviews with IRA veterans from across Ireland, the vast majority of whom opposed the 1921 Treaty. Similarly, in the immediate aftermath of the 1998 Belfast Agreement the voices of those republicans opposed to it were marginalised. The likelihood is that their narrative would be similarly ignored or at best given token representation when it came to the recording of the post-1969 conflict.
The winners after all get to write the history. If like Ernie O’Malley, Anthony McIntyre and his colleagues sought to ensure that these veterans, who represented an authentic traditional Irish Republican viewpoint, would have their voices preserved on the historical record, then that was a perfectly legitimate criteria to use in the selection of interviewees. Rather than being subjects of attack and misrepresentation, he and his colleagues should be lauded for their efforts.
Such conflicts over historical narrative and whose story gets told are not unique to Ireland. In The aftermath of the World War II the French Government established two committees, later merged in 1952 to form The Committee on the History of the Second Word War (Comité d’histoire de la deuxième guerre mondiale; CH2GM), which between 1945 and 1947 collected over 2,000 testimonies of French Resistance veterans. Even in a context where the common enemy had been decisively defeated and French sovereignty fully restored there was still conflict about contesting narratives of the resistance. Veterans of the Communist Resistance protested that their accounts were being marginalised and only given token recognition in the official Gaullist account of the war.
Timothy O’Grady’s second main criticism turns on the fact that no British soldiers or members of the RUC were interviewed. From this he deduces that the entire project presents the conflict as one motivated by sectarianism rather than a war of national liberation. He presents no evidence to back up such a sweeping judgement. Not content with smearing the project and the content of the interviews with the taint of sectarianism he makes a snide attempt to lay the same charge at Anthony McIntyre’s door. Character assassination and smear is a long-standing weapon of choice for Provisional Sinn Féin when dealing with people who challenge them. Frankly, it is sad to see Timothy O’Grady, whose previous work, notably Curious Journey (a series of interviews with veterans of the 1916-23) I would have admired, tarnish his reputation by employing such base methods rather than engaging in robust and honest critical analysis.
Provisional Sinn Féin is grappling with its own contradictions, which gives the battle over memory and whose story gets to be told an added potency. On the one hand it wants to hold on to its traditional Republican base as well denying legitimacy to those Republicans who do not support them. This involves paying lip service to their Republican past, doing the rounds of commemorations with the customary speeches to the faithful. But here is the crux. These events can often cause offence to other constituencies that they are trying to cultivate, including actual and potential partners in government, such as the DUP in the Six Counties and Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael in the 26 Counties. As they attempt to walk this tightrope a pattern has emerged. Firstly, a relatively low profile PSF public representative issues a seemingly hard-line Republican statement or tweet linking their party with a historical revolutionary event such as the Kilmichael ambush. This pleases the base but also invites a backlash from the mainstream media and the wider political establishment on both sides of the border. There then follows a torrent of condemnation of the said statement. Soon after a grovelling apology and retraction of the offending statement is made by the suitably chastised PSF representative.
Speaking out of both sides of their mouths is of course a skill they long ago perfected but it is becoming an increasingly more difficult trick for them to pull off. Their strength has always been that they have managed to fool enough people into believing that they are anti-establishment when in fact they are an integral part of the establishment north and south. An example of this sleight of hand was seen in the fallout from the PSNI attack on those gathered to remember victims of the 1992 loyalist attack on Sean Graham’s Book makers on the Ormeau Road. Provisional Sinn Féin rushed to the media to voice their protestations about the actions of the PSNI. They behaved as if they were a party of protest representing the oppressed minority when in fact they sit on the policing boards and are part of the Stormont Executive which sets policing policy.
History may not repeat itself but can often rhyme. Just prior to coming to power in the Free State in 1932 Fianna Fáil faced a similar dilemma. How to retain a republican base while preparing themselves for government. This too involved control of the narrative and ownership of the revolutionary 1916-23 period. Like Provisional Sinn Féin today, this was to confirm their republican credentials while also denying legitimacy to any challengers. Fianna Fáil kept an iron like grip on the commemoration of the 50th Anniversary of the 1916 Rising in 1966. Expect Provisional Sinn Féin to do likewise with this year’s 40th Anniversary of the 1981 Hunger Strikes, as seminal an event in their carefully crafted historical narrative as 1916 was to Fianna Fáil’s foundation myth.
Those who know Anthony McIntyre know that the recurring sniping and attacks do not worry him in the slightest and nor should they. He is somebody who is highly regarded by leading academics and journalists, evidenced by the fact so many of them were willing to sign a public letter in his defence at the height of the whole Boston College Tapes debacle. Indeed, Dr Anthony McIntyre could by now have easily occupied a lucrative academic post if he had so chosen. Instead, he turned his back on academia such was his anger at Boston College’s failure to honour its promise to secure the tapes.
Anthony McIntyre’s crime is that he declared that the Emperor has no clothes and sought to give a voice to those who refused to swallow the big lie.
Such conflicts over historical narrative and whose story gets told are not unique to Ireland. In The aftermath of the World War II the French Government established two committees, later merged in 1952 to form The Committee on the History of the Second Word War (Comité d’histoire de la deuxième guerre mondiale; CH2GM), which between 1945 and 1947 collected over 2,000 testimonies of French Resistance veterans. Even in a context where the common enemy had been decisively defeated and French sovereignty fully restored there was still conflict about contesting narratives of the resistance. Veterans of the Communist Resistance protested that their accounts were being marginalised and only given token recognition in the official Gaullist account of the war.
Timothy O’Grady’s second main criticism turns on the fact that no British soldiers or members of the RUC were interviewed. From this he deduces that the entire project presents the conflict as one motivated by sectarianism rather than a war of national liberation. He presents no evidence to back up such a sweeping judgement. Not content with smearing the project and the content of the interviews with the taint of sectarianism he makes a snide attempt to lay the same charge at Anthony McIntyre’s door. Character assassination and smear is a long-standing weapon of choice for Provisional Sinn Féin when dealing with people who challenge them. Frankly, it is sad to see Timothy O’Grady, whose previous work, notably Curious Journey (a series of interviews with veterans of the 1916-23) I would have admired, tarnish his reputation by employing such base methods rather than engaging in robust and honest critical analysis.
Provisional Sinn Féin is grappling with its own contradictions, which gives the battle over memory and whose story gets to be told an added potency. On the one hand it wants to hold on to its traditional Republican base as well denying legitimacy to those Republicans who do not support them. This involves paying lip service to their Republican past, doing the rounds of commemorations with the customary speeches to the faithful. But here is the crux. These events can often cause offence to other constituencies that they are trying to cultivate, including actual and potential partners in government, such as the DUP in the Six Counties and Fianna Fáil and Fine Gael in the 26 Counties. As they attempt to walk this tightrope a pattern has emerged. Firstly, a relatively low profile PSF public representative issues a seemingly hard-line Republican statement or tweet linking their party with a historical revolutionary event such as the Kilmichael ambush. This pleases the base but also invites a backlash from the mainstream media and the wider political establishment on both sides of the border. There then follows a torrent of condemnation of the said statement. Soon after a grovelling apology and retraction of the offending statement is made by the suitably chastised PSF representative.
Speaking out of both sides of their mouths is of course a skill they long ago perfected but it is becoming an increasingly more difficult trick for them to pull off. Their strength has always been that they have managed to fool enough people into believing that they are anti-establishment when in fact they are an integral part of the establishment north and south. An example of this sleight of hand was seen in the fallout from the PSNI attack on those gathered to remember victims of the 1992 loyalist attack on Sean Graham’s Book makers on the Ormeau Road. Provisional Sinn Féin rushed to the media to voice their protestations about the actions of the PSNI. They behaved as if they were a party of protest representing the oppressed minority when in fact they sit on the policing boards and are part of the Stormont Executive which sets policing policy.
History may not repeat itself but can often rhyme. Just prior to coming to power in the Free State in 1932 Fianna Fáil faced a similar dilemma. How to retain a republican base while preparing themselves for government. This too involved control of the narrative and ownership of the revolutionary 1916-23 period. Like Provisional Sinn Féin today, this was to confirm their republican credentials while also denying legitimacy to any challengers. Fianna Fáil kept an iron like grip on the commemoration of the 50th Anniversary of the 1916 Rising in 1966. Expect Provisional Sinn Féin to do likewise with this year’s 40th Anniversary of the 1981 Hunger Strikes, as seminal an event in their carefully crafted historical narrative as 1916 was to Fianna Fáil’s foundation myth.
Those who know Anthony McIntyre know that the recurring sniping and attacks do not worry him in the slightest and nor should they. He is somebody who is highly regarded by leading academics and journalists, evidenced by the fact so many of them were willing to sign a public letter in his defence at the height of the whole Boston College Tapes debacle. Indeed, Dr Anthony McIntyre could by now have easily occupied a lucrative academic post if he had so chosen. Instead, he turned his back on academia such was his anger at Boston College’s failure to honour its promise to secure the tapes.
Anthony McIntyre’s crime is that he declared that the Emperor has no clothes and sought to give a voice to those who refused to swallow the big lie.
⏭Des Dalton is a long time republican activist.