The Hand of History

The deadline was midnight at Friday 10th April, 1998. It came and went. The news crews huddled outside had nothing to report. Inside, the meetings carried on through the night. Exhausted delegates made push after push after push to reach a deal. But many did not believe they would achieve anything, and waiting in the wings were the naysayers, and the men in balaclavas itching to return to violence.

It really is hard to recreate the mindset of the Troubles. The war waged by the IRA against the RUC, the army, and the intelligence services, and the deaths and injuries amongst innocent bystanders that stemmed from this attempt to drive Britain from Norther Ireland, was bad enough. But even worse are the nakedly sectarian murders carried out by both republican and loyalist paramilitaries, in which people were killed simply because of who they were, or who others believed them to be.

By 1998, this cycle of horror had continued for just over thirty years. The descent of the province into anarchy from the mid-60s onwards had cost the lives of around 3500 people by 1998. Nearly 50,000 had received life changing injuries. Hundreds of thousands were left with deep psychological scars.  Miscarriages of justice occurred, with innocent people imprisoned as killers continued to roam the streets. The British and Irish police and intelligence services buckled under the pressure of keeping the peace, with elements within both police forces aiding those who were breaking the law and taking innocent lives. The political failure to even come close to solving the problem was absolute. Those elected to represent the people of Northern Ireland were barely able to share a room with those they saw as their eternal opponents.

The years were littered with failed initiatives to try and bring an end to the carnage. The Stormont parliament had failed to reform itself quickly enough, and so had been abolished. The Sunningdale Agreement, a ray of false power sharing sunshine from the early 1970s, had been brought down by a Unionist general strike. The assembly of the 1980s had been a non starter. For many, 1988 seemed to be the pit of despair. Three IRA members were shot dead by the SAS in Gibraltar. At their funerals, a loyalist gunman opened fire on the mourners. At their funerals, two British soldiers were dragged from their cars, beaten and shot. Even the act of burying the dead was now an opportunity to wreak sectarian havoc. A picture of a Catholic priest kneeling over the soldiers, administering the last rites, was beamed around the world, epitomising the abyss into which Northern Ireland had sunk.

But in the pocket of Father Alec Reid was a letter, now soaked in the blood of the dying. It was from Gerry Adams, the leader of Sinn Fein, the political wing of the IRA. At the time, Adams was seen as so dangerous, so vile, that his voice was not allowed to even be heard by the British people, to deprive him of the "oxygen of publicity," as Margaret Thatcher put it. The letter was being sent to John Hume, the leader of the nationalist political party, the SDLP, and a long time advocate for peaceful change in Northern Ireland. Two less likely allies couldn't be imagined. But, thanks to the work of Father Alec Reid, the two men were corresponding. The letter set out the position of Sinn Fein for an end to the 'armed struggle,' and asked the SDLP leader for his take on them.

From this letter flowed everything else that follows, commonly called the peace process. It was complex, painful, and littered with false starts. The tale of how that letter leads to Stormont on Good Friday of 1998 is too long, too confusing to be told here. The IRA and loyalist paramilitaries went on and off ceasefire. Governments in both Britain and Ireland came and went. Talks started, stopped, restarted, and stalled. 

Even as 1998 dawned, the prospects for a deal seemed slim. Both Sinn Fein and the loyalist political parties were suspended from the talks after the IRA and UDA continued to murder. The reluctance of the loyalist paramilitaries to enter talks was only overcome when Mo Mowlam, the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, went into the notorious Maze prison to negotiate directly with the imprisoned leadership of the paramilitaries.

Which brings us to that hectic round of talks in 1998. The US senator chairing the talks, George Mitchell, set a deadline of midnight on Friday 10th April for a resolution. At half past midnight on Tuesday 7th, Mitchell presented what he thought was the final draft. The unionists rejected it. This triggered an unprecedented flurry of activity. Both Tony Blair and Bertie Ahern, the British and Irish prime ministers, dropped everything that they were doing and headed to Belfast, throwing themselves into the talks. Blair managed to break a promise in the same sentence he made it, vowing no soundbites before launching into one.

In Washington, Bill Clinton was on and off the phone non-stop. Round the clock meant round the clock- some of the most senior politicians in Britain and Ireland slept on their office floors for two days. At one stage, a row broke out over whether Ulster Scots was a Celtic language. Only quick intervention stopped that derailing the deal.

Finally, 17 and a half hours late, Mitchell announced a deal was struck. The principle of consent was enshrined, whereby Northern Ireland would remain a part of the UK, as long as most people who live there want it to; on the flip side, it was recognised that it was perfectly legitimate to want a United Ireland. Citizenship of both the UK and the Republic of Ireland was made available to everyone in Northern Ireland. Cultural differences were to be respected and tolerated. A Northern Irish Assembly was to be created, with power shared across the nationalist and unionist communities. A framework of institutions was made across the Irish border, and between Britain and Ireland. The police were to be reformed, and the army would eventually withdraw. The border was to be fully reopened. Prisoners who had committed terrorist crimes were to be released. Crucially, the 'men of violence' were to hand over their weapons, and commit themselves to peaceful means.

At the time, it was obvious that something momentous had been achieved, and the delight of the politicians, and many people in Ireland, was evident. The deal was put to a referendum, both north and south of the border. A copy of the agreement was sent to every household in Northern Ireland, to give everyone the chance to scrutinise the deal. In the Republic, 94% of people voted in favour. In Northern Ireland, 71% backed the deal, on an incredibly high turnout of 81%. In recognition of their roles in securing this remarkable deal, John Hume and David Trimble (the leader of the largest unionist party) were awarded the 1998 Nobel Peace Prize (seen here with Bono, who did not win the prize).

It has not all been plain sailing since. Many in the unionist community were deeply suspicious of the deal, and felt they were giving up part of their British identity, while the nationalists and republicans were being given a blank cheque. Ian Paisley's hardline DUP refused to sign the deal, and campaigned against it. The Ulster Unionist Party split, and was wiped out in the process. On the republican side, many in the IRA were unable to abandon the dream of a United Ireland. The IRA split, with the Real IRA continuing to wage war, most notably in the Omaha bombing of August 1998, the single worst incident of the Troubles. For those who remained committed to a peaceful solution, the arguments over policing, symbols, and giving up weapons nearly derailed the agreement many times. It took until 2007 for a lasting power sharing arrangement to be formed, headed by the unlikely partners of the more hardline Sinn Fein and the DUP. A year ago, deep lingering mistrust pulled the rug from under the Northern Ireland Executive, and it remains suspended. The Brexit vote has thrown the future of the cross-border arrangements into serious doubt.

And yet, for all the difficulties, and a serious lack of reconciliation between the two sides, the Good Friday Agreement marks the moment when the guns stopped. Since 1998, around 150 people have been killed in terrorist related violence in Northern Ireland. That is 150 too many, but a massive improvement on the c.3500 killed before 1998. A serious campaign continues to be waged by dissident republicans, loyalist groups have turned to violent crime, and there are rumours that the Provisional IRA continues to exist somewhere in the shadows. But for the vast majority of people in Northern Ireland, a return to the sectarian carnage that blighted the late 60s, 70s, 80s and early 90s is virtually unthinkable. An entire generation has now grown up and become adults with no memories, no experience of what the Troubles was like. It will take time, possibly generations, and there are many challenges on the road ahead. It won't be easy, and will require a lot of hard work, not just from Northern Irish leaders, but from Britain and Ireland too. But peace is a process. On that April day in 1998, it got a massive push to get the ball rolling. Maybe Tony Blair was right about that hand of history after all.