heaven above
10-16-2004, 06:04 PM
Looking back in sadness
By David Adams (for the Irish Times)
--------------------------------------------------------------
Ten years ago, on October 13th, 1994.the Combined Loyalist Military
Command, representing the UDA, UVF and Red Hand Commando,
declared a ceasefire and expressed "abject and true remorse" to
all the "innocent" victims of the Troubles.
David Adams was a senior figure in the Ulster Democratic Party,
now defunct, then the political wing of the UDA, in 1994. He was
intimately involved in the negotiations that led to the loyalist
ceasefire.
--------------------------------------------------------------
On October 13th, 1994, I was sitting on a panel at Fernhill
House in the greater Shankill area of west Belfast with a
half-dozen or so other men, and feeling somewhat overwhelmed by
the presence of a world media that was listening intently to an
elderly colleague's every word.
Slowly, Augustus Andrew "Gusty" Spence lifted his head and
stared straight at the cameras. He needed no script to remind
him of the next line: "In all sincerity, we offer to the loved
ones of all innocent victims over the past 20 years, abject and
true remorse. No words of ours will compensate for the
intolerable suffering they have undergone during the conflict."
The previous day I had been helping him put the finishing
touches to the statement that would announce the loyalist
declaration of a ceasefire when he beckoned to me (in all truth,
Gusty needed little help from me or anyone else): "There you
are, young Davy," he said, stabbing a finger at the computer
screen, "they're the lines that really matter." The media's
excited reaction to his words that day in Fernhill House, and
the subsequent widespread public approval they generated, proved
way beyond any doubt how right Gusty had been.
More importantly than that, the loyalism of 1994 meant every
word of it.
It has been a long, hard road since then and, sadly, a long time
since loyalism has said or done anything that was greeted with
even the tiniest measure of public approval.
Inter- and intra-organisational feuding, sectarian attacks,
organised criminality of virtually every kind and numerous
violations of their ceasefire have seen to that.
So what went wrong? Highly sceptical and paranoiac elements
within unionism and the unrelenting, gravitational pull of their
anti-peace process (and subsequently anti-agreement) position,
proved irresistible for many; the gradual realisation of what,
in real terms, the full implications of a peace process taken to
its natural conclusion would mean, did it for yet others; but,
more than anything else, the unfulfilled expectation that there
would be, as of right, a substantial electoral reward for
helping bring the conflict to an end undermined the best of
efforts of most.
We can add to that mix the ever-present scourge of sectarianism
in Northern Ireland, our determination to revisit the conflict
at every opportunity and, 10 years after the ceasefires, the
continued failure by politicians to establish, for any
meaningful period of time, the local structures of government
that were so widely endorsed at referendum.
Governments can do many things to help move people beyond
violence and into the political mainstream.
They can, and did, encourage, consult and, in various ways,
provide a large measure of assistance.
However, within any democracy worthy of the name, what they
can't and should never be allowed to do is dictate to the
electorate whom it votes for.
The sole motivating factor for loyalism in helping to bring the
conflict to an end should always have been that it was quite
simply the right and proper thing to do.
Any electoral reward that subsequently flowed from the ceasefire
should have been viewed as an added bonus - not something that
was due as of right.
Most of us at Fernhill House in 1994 fully realised and accepted
that fact. Regrettably, too many others didn't.
There are still people within loyalism who would, if given the
chance, take it in a more positive direction.
But, for the time being at least, their voices, if heard at all,
seem not to be carrying any weight.
It now looks highly likely that any prospect there might have
been that genuine, left-of-centre and non-sectarian politics
would take hold within working-class unionist areas is going to
be washed away in a tidal wave of support for the Democratic
Unionist Party.
For those of us who announced the loyalist ceasefire 10 years
ago, things have certainly changed, and not always for the
better.
David Ervine, the most articulate amongst us, is, to his credit,
still ploughing what has become an increasingly lonely furrow,
continuing to argue passionately that violence should be
banished from our society forever and replaced only by
meaningful politics.
Gary McMichael, as ever, is working hard to try and improve the
lot of local communities. He now runs a drugs awareness project
and also works daily with young people from disturbed and
disruptive backgrounds.
For myself, nowadays a writer and commentator, I still try in my
own small way to influence things for the better in Northern
Ireland. It is for others to judge whether or not I am having
any success in that.
None of us has managed to come through the last 10 years
completely unscathed.
Each, to some degree or another, has had to deal with threats,
intimidation and violence - and little of it has emanated from
any republican quarter.
In this respect, and disgracefully, Gusty Spence has suffered
most.
During one of the many loyalist feuds, he and his late wife were
driven from their home on the Shankill Road in Belfast.
Forced from the area he loved and where he was born and raised,
Gusty now lives a well-deserved much quieter life in a small
coastal town.
As things have developed during the years since 1994, I've often
thought of something else Gusty once said to me.
We all basked a little in the warm glow of public approval that
followed the ceasefire announcement, but Gusty was more
cautious.
Knowing the nature of Northern Ireland society only too well and
conscious of the rearguard action that many elements within
unionism would mount, he once whispered quietly to me: "We're
working class heroes now, I wonder how long it will be before
we're enemies of the people." He got that one right as well.
By David Adams (for the Irish Times)
--------------------------------------------------------------
Ten years ago, on October 13th, 1994.the Combined Loyalist Military
Command, representing the UDA, UVF and Red Hand Commando,
declared a ceasefire and expressed "abject and true remorse" to
all the "innocent" victims of the Troubles.
David Adams was a senior figure in the Ulster Democratic Party,
now defunct, then the political wing of the UDA, in 1994. He was
intimately involved in the negotiations that led to the loyalist
ceasefire.
--------------------------------------------------------------
On October 13th, 1994, I was sitting on a panel at Fernhill
House in the greater Shankill area of west Belfast with a
half-dozen or so other men, and feeling somewhat overwhelmed by
the presence of a world media that was listening intently to an
elderly colleague's every word.
Slowly, Augustus Andrew "Gusty" Spence lifted his head and
stared straight at the cameras. He needed no script to remind
him of the next line: "In all sincerity, we offer to the loved
ones of all innocent victims over the past 20 years, abject and
true remorse. No words of ours will compensate for the
intolerable suffering they have undergone during the conflict."
The previous day I had been helping him put the finishing
touches to the statement that would announce the loyalist
declaration of a ceasefire when he beckoned to me (in all truth,
Gusty needed little help from me or anyone else): "There you
are, young Davy," he said, stabbing a finger at the computer
screen, "they're the lines that really matter." The media's
excited reaction to his words that day in Fernhill House, and
the subsequent widespread public approval they generated, proved
way beyond any doubt how right Gusty had been.
More importantly than that, the loyalism of 1994 meant every
word of it.
It has been a long, hard road since then and, sadly, a long time
since loyalism has said or done anything that was greeted with
even the tiniest measure of public approval.
Inter- and intra-organisational feuding, sectarian attacks,
organised criminality of virtually every kind and numerous
violations of their ceasefire have seen to that.
So what went wrong? Highly sceptical and paranoiac elements
within unionism and the unrelenting, gravitational pull of their
anti-peace process (and subsequently anti-agreement) position,
proved irresistible for many; the gradual realisation of what,
in real terms, the full implications of a peace process taken to
its natural conclusion would mean, did it for yet others; but,
more than anything else, the unfulfilled expectation that there
would be, as of right, a substantial electoral reward for
helping bring the conflict to an end undermined the best of
efforts of most.
We can add to that mix the ever-present scourge of sectarianism
in Northern Ireland, our determination to revisit the conflict
at every opportunity and, 10 years after the ceasefires, the
continued failure by politicians to establish, for any
meaningful period of time, the local structures of government
that were so widely endorsed at referendum.
Governments can do many things to help move people beyond
violence and into the political mainstream.
They can, and did, encourage, consult and, in various ways,
provide a large measure of assistance.
However, within any democracy worthy of the name, what they
can't and should never be allowed to do is dictate to the
electorate whom it votes for.
The sole motivating factor for loyalism in helping to bring the
conflict to an end should always have been that it was quite
simply the right and proper thing to do.
Any electoral reward that subsequently flowed from the ceasefire
should have been viewed as an added bonus - not something that
was due as of right.
Most of us at Fernhill House in 1994 fully realised and accepted
that fact. Regrettably, too many others didn't.
There are still people within loyalism who would, if given the
chance, take it in a more positive direction.
But, for the time being at least, their voices, if heard at all,
seem not to be carrying any weight.
It now looks highly likely that any prospect there might have
been that genuine, left-of-centre and non-sectarian politics
would take hold within working-class unionist areas is going to
be washed away in a tidal wave of support for the Democratic
Unionist Party.
For those of us who announced the loyalist ceasefire 10 years
ago, things have certainly changed, and not always for the
better.
David Ervine, the most articulate amongst us, is, to his credit,
still ploughing what has become an increasingly lonely furrow,
continuing to argue passionately that violence should be
banished from our society forever and replaced only by
meaningful politics.
Gary McMichael, as ever, is working hard to try and improve the
lot of local communities. He now runs a drugs awareness project
and also works daily with young people from disturbed and
disruptive backgrounds.
For myself, nowadays a writer and commentator, I still try in my
own small way to influence things for the better in Northern
Ireland. It is for others to judge whether or not I am having
any success in that.
None of us has managed to come through the last 10 years
completely unscathed.
Each, to some degree or another, has had to deal with threats,
intimidation and violence - and little of it has emanated from
any republican quarter.
In this respect, and disgracefully, Gusty Spence has suffered
most.
During one of the many loyalist feuds, he and his late wife were
driven from their home on the Shankill Road in Belfast.
Forced from the area he loved and where he was born and raised,
Gusty now lives a well-deserved much quieter life in a small
coastal town.
As things have developed during the years since 1994, I've often
thought of something else Gusty once said to me.
We all basked a little in the warm glow of public approval that
followed the ceasefire announcement, but Gusty was more
cautious.
Knowing the nature of Northern Ireland society only too well and
conscious of the rearguard action that many elements within
unionism would mount, he once whispered quietly to me: "We're
working class heroes now, I wonder how long it will be before
we're enemies of the people." He got that one right as well.