11 April 1998

Parties face challenge to turn words into reality

THE FUTURE

IT WAS perhaps disbelief as well as the effects of the final 32-hour negotiating session that caused many of the Stormont delegates to rub their eyes yesterday.

In the warm afterglow of a deal that many had thought impossible, there was a growing realisation that the real task now was to turn the words into reality.

A brief perusal of the 69-page document drafted and re-drafted in the pressure-cooker atmosphere of Castle Buildings revealed that the agreement was one designed by a committee, creating a Heath Robinson apparatus that had still to be tested.

Those put in charge of pulling the strings of the apparatus, moreover, will include republicans who have spent much of their lives trying to dismantle the British state in Ulster. The executive will be made up of politicians from both sides of the divide who have spent their whole careers in direct opposition.

There was also a question mark over whether David Trimble, the Ulster Unionist Party leader, could sell a deal he had agreed in the teeth of opposition from his own MPs. Jeffrey Donaldson, UUP MP for Lagan Valley, could now become his successor-in-waiting.

While the nightmare scenario for the British and Irish governments of the agreement being defeated at the referendum is unlikely to happen, Mr Trimble has been haunted throughout the negotiations by the ghosts of previous Unionist leaders who have been destroyed for "treating with the enemy".

After the Sunningdale agreement of 1973, Brian Faulkner, the then UUP leader, was attacked by hardline Unionists led by Ian Paisley. Mr Paisley and 50,000 loyalists marched on Stormont and within five months the power-sharing executive had collapsed.

The Democratic Unionist Party leader, now 72, was at Stormont again as Thursday's midnight deadline passed. This time, he had only a handful of supporters behind him and was barracked by loyalists from the Progressive Unionist Party as well as Joe Hendron, of the SDLP.

But while the growth of the fringe loyalist parties may have eaten away at Mr Paisley's support, it would be unwise to write him off.

Mr Trimble could also face substantial opposition from within his party over the cross-border arrangements, lack of progress over decommissioning and prisoner releases. "It has to be said that we're a lot more comfortable with this deal than the Unionists are," said one SDLP negotiator.

As early as 10am, a Unionist delegate made his point more succinctly: "We're being screwed."

It seemed that Mr Trimble had been sucked into a deal in the early hours only to be forced to give up more ground after dawn. Mr Donaldson's exit from the talks at 5pm could be an ominous precursor to discontent in the party across the province.

Sharing seats on a devolved executive with Sinn Fein leaders whose colleagues in the IRA may not have given up a single bullet or ounce of Semtex is unlikely to appeal to the Protestant people of Antrim and Fermanagh.

Gerry Adams, the Sinn Fein president, also faces potential problems. The nine-month IRA ceasefire has seen a dangerous division develop within the republican movement. Two members of the IRA executive resigned last October and formed a dissident group, which has carried out a series of attacks.

Even acquiescence by Sinn Fein in the deal would be an effective recognition of partition - a Rubicon many Provisionals will not want to cross.

Mr Adams has sold the talks to his own people as a "phase in the struggle" and a section of the IRA leadership will be arguing for the next phase to be a military one.

In the short term, the republican policy of "tactical use of the armed struggle" will probably continue.

There has been a high level of violence throughout the ceasefire. As Sinn Fein delegates argued their case on Thursday, the IRA carried out two kneecappings in Belfast, and the tap of violence is unlikely to be turned off.

During 22 months of negotiations, the republican movement was not forced to make a choice about becoming a fully constitutional party, but that choice cannot be far off. The inherent contradictions of the dual strategy of ballot box and bullet cannot be sustained forever.

There is nearly six weeks before the planned referendum on May 22 and the first contentious parade of the marching season takes place on Belfast's Ormeau Road on Monday. But across Northern Ireland last night there was hope that what Tony Blair had described as a "new beginning" could begin to deliver real peace.

"It's been a long time coming," said an SDLP negotiator. "But I believe it's here now and God forgive anyone who lets the chance slip away."

7 March 1998

Village unites to bury murdered friends

Funerals convey message of defiance to men of violence By Toby Harnden in Poyntzpass, Co Armagh

THE people of Poyntzpass came together yesterday to bury two young men murdered by loyalist terrorists in a show of private grief and very public defiance that transcended Northern Ireland's sectarian divide.

Only a field separated the grave of Damien Trainor, 25, next to St Joseph's Roman Catholic chapel, from that of his lifelong friend Phillip Allen, 34, who was laid to rest beside the tiny Presbyterian church two hours later.

Most mourners attended both funerals, Roman Catholics and Protestants standing side by side, many sharing umbrellas to shelter from the driving rain. Among them was Carol Magill, barely able to stand after seeing the coffins of her fiance, Mr Allen, and the person who would have been his best man lowered into the ground.

Outside the Railway Bar, where the two men had been comforted by their parents as they lay dying beside each other, a single candle flickered.

Chalk still marked the fingerprints on the door that the gunman had pushed open before ordering evening drinkers to lie on the floor.

As the morning wore on, the pile of flowers grew, many bunches sent by strangers touched by the story of the friendship between a Catholic and a Protestant. "Great friends in life, now greater in death," said one message.

Shortly after midday, Mr Trainor's coffin, shouldered by three of Mr Allen's brothers, was carried the short distance from his home to the chapel. His mother, Ann, clutched a small wreath with one hand and her husband, Sean, with the other and the couple leant on each other for support.

A Royal Ulster Constabulary officer - so often a controversial presence at a Catholic funeral in Ulster - saluted as the coffin passed and the opening verses of Be Not Afraid could be heard from inside the the chapel. During the service, there was a bidding prayer for the police.

Father Brian Hackett, the parish priest, said the two men would have shunned such an occasion. "They were such unassuming young men. They would have jumped in Damien's van and driven for miles."

What the two men had shared in life was greater than anything the terrorists could hope to achieve. "Yes, we have been terrorised and if you ask us were we scared, yes, you have scared us. Perhaps I could ask the men of violence: are you scared about the integrated pubs and businesses all around the place?

"Are you scared that there are other Damiens and Philips all over Northern Ireland? The men of violence are scared. We have to redouble our efforts for peace."

Mourners wept quietly as Archbishop Sean Brady, the Catholic Primate of All Ireland, told them: "Damien and Philip were united in life by friendship and common interest. They were united in death by the bullets of their frenzied killers.

"Both killers came in the dark of night, their faces masked. Their mouths were filled with obscenities, their hearts were filled with hatred and their hands filled with weapons of death and destruction."

The murders, he said, were a crossroads in the Troubles. "Are we going to travel along the road where the bomb and the bullet are the boss? Where hatred and contempt, death and destruction, get their way?

"Or are we going to set our sights on, and turn towards, the road that leads to a genuine peace, a peace built, like the friendship of Damien and Philip, on sure foundations?"

After Mr Trainor was buried, Protestants were among those who took lunch in the parochial hall while Catholics were welcomed up the road by Royal British Legion members who served them tea and ginger cake.

Shortly afterwards, Mr Allen's coffin was carried from his house. Mourners paused briefly outside the Railway Bar, where the attack was carried out. The owners of the bar, Dessie and Bernadette Canavan, had said earlier it would probably never re-open.

Hundreds of people stood outside the Presbyterian church and prayed for Mr Allen. Less than 100 yards away, Mr Trainor's breakdown van could be seen parked behind his father's garage. The keys had been in his pocket when he died.

Dr Sam Hutchinson, the Presbyterian moderator, said: "A wave of revulsion has swept through Poyntzpass and far beyond, and however little support these gunmen had, they will surely have less now.

"We don't want the future of this land to be determined by the Poyntzpass gunmen, the Portadown bombers and their ilk, but rather by those courageous people who, amid a host of difficulties and discouragements, are desperately trying to find a formula that could bring a better and brighter future for us all."

After the funeral, Miss Magill, tears streaming down her face, paused to drop a bunch of red roses into Mr Allen's grave beside the country church in which they were to have been married in the summer.

21 February 1998

Bomb blast after ban on Sinn Fein

Adams 's anger at talks followed by huge explosion outside RUC station  By Toby Harnden in Moira

A REPUBLICAN bomb devastated a Royal Ulster Constabulary station and much of a small town in Northern Ireland shortly before midnight last night after Sinn Fein had been ejected from political talks for a fortnight.

Eight people were hurt in the explosion, which was heard 12 miles away. Earlier, Gerry Adams had said there was "palpable anger" in the nationalist community and warned that his party might abandon negotiations.

The device exploded inside a Land Rover parked yards from the police station in predominantly Protestant Moira, Co Down, near Belfast. A warning had been telephoned to a local bar at 11.25pm, giving the RUC just 15 minutes to evacuate the area.

Three police officers were among the injured, one of them a woman.

The blast raised fears of a formal end to the seven-month IRA ceasefire and the collapse of the faltering political talks after Mo Mowlam, the Northern Ireland Secretary, had warned Sinn Fein that any further IRA violence would lead to its permanent exclusion from negotiations.

Security sources had warned that the republican movement wanted to abandon talks because a united Ireland was not on the agenda.

More than 200 Orangemen and their guests had been holding a dance in the parochial hall next to the police station when the warning came.

Harry Stevenson, 70, deputy district master of the local Orange Order, said: "This was the IRA giving their response to democracy. Talking to republicans has only encouraged them."

A recently-renovated guest house was completely demolished by the bomb and dozens of houses badly damaged. It is thought the police station was unmanned at the time. One RUC officer said: "The bomb appeared to be about 500lb, probably of home-made explosives."

There has been a steady rise in the level of IRA activity in Northern Ireland since before Christmas. Last week, the IRA shot dead Brendan Campbell, a drug dealer, and Robert Dougan, a loyalist terrorist. It was these two murders that lead to the decision by the British and Irish governments to suspend Sinn Fein from talks.

On Wednesday, Liam Conway, a Roman Catholic from Lurgan, Co Armagh, was found shot dead. It is believed an IRA "punishment squad" was responsible.

Earlier, Mr Adams had reacted with fury after Sinn Fein had been thrown out of the Northern Ireland talks until March 9 and had warned that republicans might not return to the "flawed" negotiations.

Unionists said the suspension was inadequate and a signal that the lives of IRA victims were valueless. Security sources had warned there was a danger of further IRA violence and street disorder destabilising the talks and leading to more deaths.

Sinn Fein called for a series of protests across Northern Ireland and demanded the RUC and Army withdraw from nationalist areas. Loyalists were incensed that Sinn Fein would miss only six working days at the talks in comparison with the month-long exclusion imposed on the UDP.

Mr Adams accused the two governments of bowing to threats by Unionists and relying on the word of "the RUC which is still wedded to the old agendas and mindsets" and said there was an urgent need to reverse the decision.

"The anger at the British government's indictment of Sinn Fein is palpable, particularly in nationalist areas of the north. I appeal to everyone to channel their anger and frustration into calm and disciplined protest," he added.

Shortly after the decision, Sinn Fein abandoned its court action in Dublin designed to prevent the Government's move. Mr Adams said it was "disgraceful" that Sinn Fein had been suspended while legal proceedings were taking place.

The British and Irish governments gave strong indications that they would propose a draft settlement to the Ulster parties in six weeks' time with the aim of holding a referendum on both sides of the border on May 1.

The talks could move abroad to either Finland or Austria and be held in secret away from the media. Miss Mowlam said the parties were approaching "the endgame" in which a political accommodation could be reached.

Miss Mowlam said Sinn Fein could return only after a "convincing demonstration in word and deed that a complete, unqualified and unequivocal IRA ceasefire is being fully and continuously observed".

It was also announced that the Ulster Democratic Party, the political wing of the terrorist Ulster Defence Association, would be allowed back into talks on Monday. It was suspended on Jan 26 after the UDA admitted murdering three Roman Catholics.

2 Feb 1998

Army woman who shot RUC officer will not be charged

THE woman soldier who shot an RUC officer in the chest when an undercover mission in Belfast went wrong has been flown back from Ulster but told she will not face charges.

An RUC source said the inquiry into the shooting had still to be completed but it had already been accepted that the soldier, an Army officer seconded to 14 Intelligence Company, or "14 Int", had acted with bravery and professionalism.

The inquiry is likely to conclude that the main cause of the shooting was the failure of the joint RUC, MI5 and Army Tasking Co-ordination Group to ensure that police patrols were told an undercover operation was taking place in the area.

The officer, wearing civilian clothes and driving an unmarked car, had been observing an IRA suspect close to Ladbrook Drive in the Ardoyne area on Jan 14.

Another 14 Int member was with her but in another car.

At around 1.20am she was spotted by four policemen, also in an unmarked car, who gave chase.

Suspecting she had been detected by the IRA, she increased her speed to more than 80mph and headed down the Crumlin Road to shake off her pursuers.

The RUC men had been carrying out a routine patrol to look out for loyalist terrorists who had been targeting Roman Catholics.

They initially thought that she was a joyrider. They turned on their two-tone siren but not their blue flashing light.

As she approached the Carlisle Circus roundabout she lost control of the car and crashed. Dazed and afraid, she saw a dark figure approaching and shot him in the chest with her 9mm Browning pistol.

Although the shot policeman was in uniform, at least one of the other RUC officers was in plainclothes.

A spokesman for the Royal Victoria Hospital in Belfast said yesterday that the policeman "remains seriously ill". He recently suffered internal bleeding and may never return to duty.

The woman officer was not to blame for what happened, said the RUC source. "She was an experienced operator working in a very dangerous area. It was extremely unfortunate that she jumped to the conclusion that the RUC men were terrorists.

"While her training should have ensured she did not crash the way she did, she was able to recover quickly and had the presence of mind to fire accurately at a person she thought was a threat.

"The incident was a tragedy, not just because of the serious injury to the policeman but also because the officer has had to be returned to her parent regiment in England. 14 Int are very short of women operators and, by all accounts, she was extremely good at her job."

In December 1996 Eddie Copeland, who had been named as a leading IRA member in Parliament two years earlier, was injured when a loyalist bomb exploded underneath his car outside his home in Ladbrook Drive.

14 Int, known among the security forces as "Group" and composed of nine detachments or "Dets", was formed in 1974 and is commanded by an SAS colonel. He is directly responsible to the General Officer Commanding Northern Ireland but also reports to the director of the SAS.

The identity of the unit is a closely-guarded secret and the "cover name" - currently a five-letter acronym - changes periodically.

Capt Robert Nairac, who won a posthumus George Cross after he was murdered in South Armagh in 1977, had served with 14 Int under the cover name "4 Field Survey Troop".

Members of 14 Int, drawn from all three Services, are trained at the SAS headquarters in Hereford. They operate in groups of two or three, mainly in urban areas, and often in support of the SAS.

Although 14 Int operates mainly against the IRA, it is also employed to combat loyalist terrorists. In September 1989 a woman member of 14 Int shot dead Brian Robinson, an Ulster Volunteer Force member, just after he murdered a Roman Catholic in the Ardoyne.

The Browning pistol is the most common weapon used by 14 Int and is usually carried in a covert waistband holder or placed beneath the right thigh when driving. Training for 14 Int includes the need for resourcefulness and the ability to react quickly to unfamiliar events.

In a recent book Sarah Ford, a former member of 14 Int, described the rigorous training course she undertook. Of the 120 people who started the six-month course, only eight were women. Fourteen passed, with Ford the only woman.

21 January 1998

Paramilitaries hide behind lofty words of the `peace process' to continue war by proxy

Shadow of the gunman falls over Ulster

ANALYSIS

ALL the old certainties, it seems, have returned to Northern Ireland in the few short weeks since Christmas.

The soldiers are back on the streets. Loyalists have shot dead five Catholics. Republicans have murdered two loyalists. And the words of the politicians seem as futile as ever.

But while there is a broad consensus that the killing by the INLA of Billy Wright inside the Maze let the genie of violence out of the "talks process" bottle, the reality may be that his murder was as much a symptom as the cause of what has been happening in Ulster.

Almost perversely, one could argue that the seeds of the unrest started to take root on the day Sinn Fein and the loyalist fringe parties signed up to the six Mitchell principles of non-violence.

This meant the political wings of terrorist groups signing up to "the total disarmament of all paramilitary organisations". They agreed to "urge that punishment killings and beatings stop and to take effective steps to prevent such actions" and embrace "democratic and exclusively peaceful means of resolving political issues".

Of course, everyone knew this exercise was undertaken in much the same way as Tony Banks took the oath to the Queen in the House of Commons - with a smirk and crossed fingers. The principles were just words. No weapons had to be given up and there was no real sanction against those who broke them. As the number of "punishment shootings" escalated and loyalists began picking off Catholics, scarcely a word was said.

The Ulster Defence Association and the Ulster Volunteer Force adopted a "no claim, no blame" policy. This meant that they could maim and kill while their political representatives argued for peace.

In a sense, it was the loyalist version of the "tactical use of the armed struggle" - the strategy of using violence to force political concessions that republicans have used for five years.

Loyalists, who had maintained a formal ceasefire throughout the 17-month period that the IRA returned to "war", saw that the threat of force paid dividends. And for the threat to be taken seriously, low-level terrorism had to continue.

But it was another flaw in the process that led to the murder of Wright and the other victims. The Stormont talks were designed to end IRA violence by drawing Sinn Fein into constitutional politics. At the same time, they were based on the "consent principle" that any agreement has to have the backing of the Protestant majority.

This meant that the republican movement - which enjoys, at best, the support of 15 per cent of the Northern Irish - could never achieve its aims and "win" at the talks. And, as the historian Padraig O'Malley once said, Ulster politics is a zero sum game: a defeat for one side is a victory for the other.

In these circumstances, there was an eerie inevitability in the fact that republicans would eventually seek to bring down the talks and hope for an imposed settlement that would be a stepping stone on the road to a 32-county state.

Once the superficial concessions over prisoner releases and visits to Downing Street had dried up, republicans saw little more to gain from the talks.

It is in this context in which the murder of Wright should be seen. The INLA, a group under the effective control of the IRA, carried out a killing that the republican leadership knew would provoke a backlash against Catholics. The Loyalist Volunteer Force did not depart from the script. Doormen, Gaelic football fans and taxi drivers fell victim to the "Any-Taig-Will-Do" philosophy of terror.

In response, Gerry Adams accused the Government of allowing the " Orange card" to be played and giving concessions to loyalists at the end of the barrel of a gun.

And then, the INLA claimed a UDA commander in an attack that had all the hallmarks of a carefully-planned operation carried out with IRA sanction.

Although the Government tries to seek solace in the belief that only "splinter groups" have carried out the recent murders, in reality, the killings have been a form of terrorism by proxy. The IRA has used the INLA and the Continuity IRA. The UDA has used the LVF.

In the meantime, the uncertainty of the political situation and the fear of further sectarian attacks has polarised public opinion. Everyone wants peace not at any price and there is little evidence of a change in the mindsets of the masses.

The IRA is due to "review" its ceasefire in March and the security assessment is that a return to full-scale republican violence in Ulster and Britain will follow.

Tony Blair and Bertie Ahern have just presented their blueprint of a political settlement but their vision of the future probably comes too late and cannot secure the support of the extremes.

As so often in Northern Ireland, political progress is now at the mercy of the gunmen and the hope engendered by the ceasefires could become a half-remembered dream.

2 January 1998

Victim died as New Year babies were born   Toby Harnden in Belfast

A BUNCH of pink carnations among the discarded beer cans and takeaway cartons outside the Clifton Bar was the only sign yesterday of the carnage that had taken place.

Eddie Treanor, a 31-year-old Roman Catholic, had popped in with his girlfriend, Roisin Shevlin, shortly before 8pm for a quick drink. Just over an hour later, the gunmen came.

Aware that loyalist terrorists might target any Catholic bar, doormen had planned to pull down the steel shutters outside before 9pm. But there was a late rush of people wanting to get in and it seemed churlish to turn the would-be revellers away.

The queue had started to ease by 9.07pm when a white car pulled up in front of the bar. Onlookers described how they watched in horror as, almost in slow motion, two men in balaclavas stepped out.

They carried an Israeli-made Uzi sub-machine-gun and a pistol. One nodded at the people standing outside and said: "All right lads."

Then they opened fire, wounding seven people inside the bar. Mr Treanor was hit in the head.

A few minutes before the countdown to New Year, surgeons at Belfast's Royal Victoria Hospital pronounced Mr Treanor dead.

"The terrible irony is that he died in one part of the hospital while New Year babies were being born in another," said a nurse.

Maria Murphy, 25, described how her elder brother had just left the bar when he heard the sound of automatic gunfire. "He has first-aid training and rushed back to see if he could help.

"He was there within seconds of it happening and everyone was panicking. Nobody knew what to do. Someone shouted, `There's another one hit over there'. He looked round and saw that it was our father."

Tim Murphy, 53, a father of seven, was seriously injured. A bullet passed through his arm and into his stomach. Surgeons operated and yesterday he remained seriously ill.

Mr Treanor grew up in the Cliftonville area, a poor, nationalist suburb fringed by "sectarian interfaces" with loyalist districts.

For 30 years, death had become a way of life in the streets. Around one-sixth of the 3,200 victims of the Troubles were killed within a few square miles of his home.

Like so many killed by terrorists, Mr Treanor had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

On the wall opposite the bar, graffiti proclaiming: "UTP" (Up the Provos) and "IRA" was daubed. But the Clifton Tavern had never been a republican hang-out. It is even known locally as "The Ceasefire" because it opened shortly after the IRA ceasefire of 1994.

Maureen Leavey, 74, a neighbour of Mr Treanor's widowed mother, Mary, described the dead man as a happy-go-lucky person who lived for his girlfriend and her six-year-old daughter.

"He was a great fellow," she said. "A lovely big lump. My son Paul was the same age as him and they grew up together. He was like another son to me. His poor mother. I don't know what she'll do now."

The Treanor family was well liked. Like many Northern Irish Catholics, Mr Treanor's late father, Tommy, had served in the British Army. He had six sons and a daughter, all of whom had done well at school.

Eddie Treanor worked as a civil servant in Belfast's Housing Executive. One brother is a solicitor in Lancashire. Another built a successful life in America.

Joan Murphy, Mr Treanor's aunt, said: "He was a gentle fellow who looked after his mother well. He was an innocent young man just going out for a pint. He was never involved in politics or anything like that."

The streets of Cliftonville were largely deserted as many struggled to come to terms with a return to the sort of violence that had not been seen there for more than three years.

The scene in the bar resembled that in the Rising Star in Greysteel, Co Londonderry, where seven people were shot dead in 1993, and Height's Bar, when six were massacred the following year.

"It could have been another Greysteel or Loughinisland," said an RUC officer. "It wasn't, but that will be little consolation to the Treanor family or indeed Catholics across the province who are living with the very real fear of another atrocity."

12 July 1997

The long and tortuous road to compromise on Orange parades

THE Orange Order's historic decision to cancel marches to avoid conflict in Northern Ireland came after nearly a year of painstaking negotiation and an unlikely cast that included a Tory peer, a former IRA terrorist and a young Presbyterian minister.

In the final hours before the deal was struck, Ronnie Flanagan, the RUC Chief Constable, warned of the dire consequences of failing to compromise.

It was almost immediately after the Orange parade at Drumcree was forced down the nationalist Garvaghy Road in July 1996 that several senior Orangemen decided that the order could not survive if march confrontations continued.

Denis Watson, the County Armagh Grand Master; the Rev Brian Kennaway, convenor of the order's education committee; and the Rev William Bingham, County Armagh Grand Chaplain, became the key movers in persuading Orangemen that avoiding violence was more important than marching.

The order had shied away from explaining its case, short of maintaining that parades were a celebration of Protestant culture and a demonstration of hard-won civil and religious liberties.

All opposition to parades, many Orangemen argued, was nothing more than a bogus means of attacking Protestantism concocted by Sinn Fein and the IRA. There could and should, therefore, be no compromise.

Several senior Orangemen recognised, however, that there were genuine concerns among nationalists about parades. They were privately horrified, moreover, at the way politicians and loyalist terrorists used parades to suit their own ends.

The television pictures of a triumphant David Trimble and Ian Paisley, the Democratic Unionist Party leader, holding hands and dancing a jig at Garvaghy Road in 1995 were seen to have damaged the order's image and made march agreements elsewhere more difficult.

Mr Trimble, who had been elected leader of the UUP partly because of his performance at Drumcree in 1995, subsequently met Billy Wright, a known loyalist terrorist, when the parade was initially blocked the following year.

While Mr Trimble argued that he had met Wright to urge restraint, the meeting undermined the order's stance that it had no truck with terrorism.

The moderates' case was helped by the election in December of Robert Saulters as Grand Master of the Order. Although reluctant to take the job, his honesty and decency lent credence to the view that Orangeism could reform itself.

Mr Bingham, 32, was an early advocate of the proposal that the Drumcree march should be voluntarily re-routed after a Government declaration that the right to march would be upheld.

Mr Bingham argued that the order should end its formal link with the Ulster Unionist Party and strive to become a solely political organisation. It should take responsibility for unrest caused by loyalist hangers-on at parades and expel Orangemen who misbehaved.

There was a series of meetings in London to explain the order's case. Orangemen travelled to Dublin, met backbench MPs from all parties and held talks at the American embassy in London.

A consensus emerged that the order faced a "perception problem" on the mainland and also needed to persuade rank and file Orangemen that things had to change.

Viscount Cranborne, then Tory leader in the House of Lords, agreed to meet Orangemen in Portadown. Also instrumental was Sean O'Callaghan, a former IRA terrorist recently released from prison.

He was brought in to explain how the "residents' associations" organised by Sinn Fein were designed to provoke conflict. By allowing themselves to be drawn in, Orangemen were simply playing the IRA's game.

The compromise reached late on Thursday night was nearly achieved at Drumcree. In the end, however, the militancy of the local district lodge in Portadown led to defeat for Mr Bingham and Mr Watson.

After the violence at Drumcree and widespread criticism of what was seen as Orange intransigence, however, the leadership made a decisive move.

County grand masters and their deputies were summoned to a meeting in Belfast on Thursday morning and told by John McCrae, secretary of the Grand Lodge, that postponement and voluntary re-routing of traditional parades would have to take place.

The fact that the grand masters agreed and were able to persuade local districts and counties to support them was testament to the groundwork laid over the previous year.

A leading Tyrone Orangeman said yesterday: "We realised that it was only our own stupidity that would beat us. At last, Orangemen are beginning to learn to think with their heads instead of their feet."

7 Jul 1997

THE DRUMCREE MARCH

Security forces take brunt of estate's venom   By Toby Harnden in Drumcree, Co Armagh

DAWN came early for the people of the Garvaghy Road. As the darkness began to lift, scores of police Land Rovers and Army Saxons swept into the Roman Catholic enclave.

The nationalist warning siren sounded and the long-awaited Drumcree decision was disclosed: the Orangemen were coming through.

Residents from the estates poured out in a vain attempt to block the road. Royal Ulster Constabulary officers moved swiftly through, batons raised, clearing the bodies in their way.

"I-I-IRA," came the chant from the masked youths as rocks, bottles and petrol bombs rained down on the police and troops. One woman staggered to the side of the road, blood pouring from a gash on her head. "You've crucified this community year after year," she cried. "And now it's happening again."

By 6am, more than two hours after Operation Erinite began, the area had been sealed and an uneasy calm descended.

Riot police dressed in black overalls and balaclavas lay sprawled on the grass. Some slept, others played cards. One lay on his back reading a Bible.

Young soldiers stared impassively as a teenager set fire to a Union flag and screamed: "That's what we think of your Ulster."

Less than two miles away, the Orangemen were gathering outside their hall. "We've right on our side," said Trevor Quinn, 28, whose sash bore the legend: "Rising Sons of Portadown."

He added: "We can't be held to ransom by the gun. Sinn Fein orchestrated the protests. It was all part of the IRA game plan."

Shortly before 11am, the colour party stepped off and the Star of David accordion band played Thine be the Glory as the crowds lining the streets clapped and cheered.

"Safe home, Freddie," shouted one woman, dressed in her Sunday best and clutching her young son. "Hold your head up high."

Processing up the Corcrain Road towards Drumcree, the leader of the outlawed Loyalist Volunteer Force in the town, nodded and waved as the marchers passed. "There are no nationalist areas. Just areas temporarily occupied," read one placard beside a bonfire piled high in preparation for the Twelfth. The sun shone as the parade reached Drumcree church, the scene of a five-day stand-off last year.

"The eyes of the world are on you at this time," said the Rev John Pickering over the public address system."We want to follow the path of peace and justice for all."

At 1pm, as the Orangemen filed out after their church service and took up position at the top of Drumcree Road, the Garvaghy residents began to gather once again.

Women and children banged bin lids and biscuit tins on the concrete. As the Orange standard turned on to the Garvaghy Road the jeers and whistles rang out. "Incoming," shouted one Orangeman, Second World War medals lining his chest, as a bottle flew over his head. "Eyes front and look out for the man in front."

Children made two-fingered gestures and a rebel song blasted out. "Orange fascists," shouted a teenage girl.

As the "King Billy" arch came into view and the last of the Irish tricolours was left behind, the drums started to beat.

The faces of the Orangemen began to crease into smiles and their pace slowed. One waved an umbrella as his wife greeted him. Another lifted his bowler hat and wiped his brow.

The nationalist crowd chanted "No ceasefire now" as the troops began to withdraw. Lumps of concrete, stones and timber were heaved at the RUC. "Keep calm, lads," shouted an NCO from the Cheshire Regiment as a piece of paving stone hit his visor, knocking the loud hailer from his face.

Masked figures, directed by a man in baseball cap and sunglasses, fired ballbearings from catapults as more masonry was pelted at the soldiers. As the rioters advanced along the road behind metal grilles there was the familiar pop and thud of plastic bullets.

One man keeled over as he took the full force of a baton round in his stomach. Another stumbled and fell before getting up and launching a missile at the retreating vehicles. A petrol bomb hit the ground and burst into flames.

At the end of the road, a loyalist - beer can in hand - danced a victory jig. "Orange Order 3, Garvaghy Road 0," he crowed. Behind him, the vehicles burned.

26 May 1997

Ireland counts the cost of its tiger economy

ON Slane Hill, the Earl of Mount Charles stood where, as legend has it, St Patrick lit the fire that heralded the conversion of the Celtic high kings to Christianity. In the fields below, Protestant and Roman Catholic forces clashed by the River Boyne more than a millennium later in another battle for Ireland's soul.

The island is now in the midst of a new, more peaceful transformation. According to Lord Mount Charles, the issue of how success should be managed must be at the heart of the general election campaign in the Irish Republic.

" Ireland's economy is doing extremely well and life is radically different from what it was," he said. "In social and cultural terms, too, we have come a long way. We have more young people here than in any other European country. A lot have been through third-level education, have travelled and are bringing back a terrific variety of ideas."

But there was a danger that prosperity could create a tiered society, as in Britain. "There are some areas with huge rates of unemployment and this is being perpetuated through several generations.

The Celtic Tiger still has a sore paw." As an Anglo-Irish Protestant whose ancestors arrived in Ireland in 1611 and fought at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690, Lord Mount Charles, 47, said he once experienced anti-English hostility but that had passed.

"I regard this absolutely as my country but there are different senses of identity. Ireland is a sea fed by many streams and I am one of those streams. There is an immense variety and colour but now also a distinct identity. This is an exciting time for the island."

Nowhere was this variety more apparent than Dublin. Eschewing the parochialism of much of the country, the capital has become a melting pot where Ireland and the outside world meet and mix.

Anna Carey, a 21-year-old languages student, said: "Things have improved but a lot of the boom is just in big business. My sister has a Master's and her husband has a Ph D but they can only get a job in a bookshop. "Society is modern but politics is old-fashioned and boring.

It's difficult to tell between the parties. Politics here is all about backslapping and in-fighting and which side your grandfather fought on in the civil war." Valerie O'Reilly, also 21 and studying medicine, said the Irish Republic owed much to its membership of the European Union. "It's a good country to live in but we're like a leech on the bigger countries in Europe.

We're not self-sufficient." Outside the Blessed Sacrament Chapel, Jimmy Kelly, 81, said he was disillusioned. "Spiritually, the country is bankrupt. People aren't bothered about the law anymore. It's getting worse than Chicago."

His friend, Joseph Doyle, 72, said: "Crime is rampant and white-collar fraud is the worst." In the suburb of Dalkey, the heart of Dublin's "rockbroker belt" - home to many music and sports celebrities - Simon Carroll, 22, a carpenter, had just got married. "It's a good time to get hitched because there's so much work around.

You only have to look around to see how much money is circulating. Ireland is booming but we're paying more tax than anywhere else and house prices are getting too high." Travelling beyond the Pale to Co Kildare, the roadside was peppered with posters of the reassuring countenances of John Bruton (Peace through Stability) and Bertie Ahern (People before Politics).

In the horse-racing town of the Curragh, however, the election had failed to cause excitement. "No politician ever did anything for me," said Terry Finn, 24, a stable lad. "The boom hasn't reached me. We need a minimum wage because the lads here get a pittance.

There are a lot of people in Ireland being used as slave labour." Michael Halford, 34, a trainer, said he knew little about politics but saw that life was good. "The state of racing is a good indicator of how things are. Nobody needs a racehorse but lads from publicans to builders now have a few quid spare and are throwing it into a horse."

Crossing Co Laois into Co Tipperary, evidence of prosperity was less apparent and the traditional Ireland seemed, in many respects, to have been preserved. A friendly wave from the roadside became the norm. Northern Ireland, a matter of little concern to many in the Republic, was hotly debated in Christy Maher's pub in Roscrea.

"The Northern issue is the big issue," said Michael Corrigan, 72. "But we're doing damn all about it. The poor people in the Catholic ghettos are being left to soldier on on their own." Bernadette Bailey, 55, was more worried about the national debt. "We should tighten the purse strings. There's money being spent but there's no boom down in the country."

Beside the ring road, Willie Harty, a traveller, was sheltering from the rain next to his sister's caravan. "I'm 32, I've got seven children and I've never had a job," he said. "The social welfare payments here are twice what you get in England. I'd like a house but I honestly think I'll always be on the move." At Holycross, Father Thomas Breen was putting the finishing touches to preparations for a pilgrimage to the Cistercian abbey.

"We're expecting 10,000 people from all over Ireland so maybe the Church isn't in such a bad state after all," he said. A decline in vocations, sex scandals involving the clergy and the legalisation of divorce, though, were eroding the Catholic Church's authority. "Most people are more affluent, and therefore the need for God isn't as obvious as it was 30 years ago.

The money hasn't circulated down to the poor, however, who seem to be voiceless." John O'Neill, 30, at the beef and dairy farm close to Kilmallock, Co Limerick, which he took over from his father three years ago, left Ireland in his 20s like many of his generation. "When I was in New York there were seven fellas from my hurling team there. Four of us are back now though, because there's more work," he said.

Farming had become increasingly mechanised and EU membership was a hindrance as well as a help. "I'd like to have more cattle but the quotas mean I'm not allowed to. In some ways it would be better if we were just left to our own devices." Proportional representation helped to stabilise the country.

"Coalition government is a good idea because it keeps politicians under control." In Killarney, Co Kerry, the main employer was tourism. Padraig Treacy, 43, a self-made millionaire, said a business expansion scheme had given him an interest-free loan which he had invested into building a hotel.

"We need to keep society together and manage change so that everyone benefits. There is now a thriving, vibrant business culture but things have been getting a bit divided lately. You used to have the man digging the road sitting next to the bank manager in the pub but that's changing." Castletownbere, Co Cork, seemed to be a victim of Ireland's transformation.

Tied up alongside the Irish trawlers was a Spanish "super trawler". "We were sold down the Swanee when we went into Europe. We work harder and can't earn as much," said Michael Martin-Sullivan, 46, as he repaired his tuna nets. "It's too late for us. I don't know if my son will be able to go into it. Ireland is a very different place to when I started fishing 28 years ago and not all that change has been for the best."

12 May 1997

Nairac's legacy in battle of bandit country

20-year-old report helps fight against terrorism

THE undercover Army intelligence officer Robert Nairac, associated with one of the most gruesome murders of the Troubles, is continuing to play a part in the fight against terrorism 20 years after he was killed by the IRA.

Shortly before he was abducted, Capt Nairac wrote a report, Talking to People in South Armagh, about the conduct of anti-terrorist operations in the hostile "bandit country", which remains the most dangerous territory in Northern Ireland for the security forces.

The previously unpublished report, a copy of which has been obtained by The Daily Telegraph, has recently been issued to Army officers in the belief that its unique insights into the mentality of Provisional IRA members and sympathisers could help to save lives.

Members of the 2nd Battalion the Parachute Regiment, who were recently based, like Capt Nairac, in Bessbrook Mill, were told that they should adopt his approach in their dealings with locals.

The report gives details of the George Cross winner's pioneering work and the methods he used to recruit agents and "informers". The extent of the danger in which he knowingly and repeatedly placed himself is apparent.

The report is based on the premise that brutality and aggression in the Army's dealing with the local populace are likely to be counter productive.

"Just as it is reasonable to regard everyone with serious suspicion, it is also important to regard any local as a possible source of information," wrote Capt Nairac.

"Most people (possibly 80 per cent) are sick of the violence and would like to see the Troubles end. Some would even go as far as to do something about it, if approached in the right way. Amongst fringe PIRA (or even active terrorists) there are those who might be `turned' by the right approach."

Capt Nairac identified four main factors that had to be overcome by the Army to win support: fear of the IRA, mistrust of the Army, genuine sympathy for the republican cause, and tradition.

"Fear is the most important factor in keeping people's mouths shut," he wrote. "To have been seen talking to soldiers may often mean a `visit' and some sharp questioning. If this goes on, a beating or a knee or head job is the end result."

Capt Nairac laid down that individuals seen as being potentially friendly to the Army should never be singled out. A pretext should be used to visit their house and those of their neighbours. Questioning should be oblique and real meanings only hinted at.

He gave an example of how to arrange a further meeting with someone who appeared co-operative. The soldier should ask: "We often check the houses around here so we will call again, if that's okay." A favourable reply would be: "Fine, but come after dark" or "when the kids are out".

A senior Army officer with recent service in South Armagh said fear of the IRA was still immense. "Robert Nairac identified our central problem. People are beaten and worse if they are seen talking to us. But at checkpoints at night and in their own farmyards they will often chat away."

Capt Nairac did not underestimate the level of support for the IRA. "At heart, all Catholic men and women in South Armagh have some sympathy for the Provo cause," he wrote. "It is a complete waste of time and totally unproductive to heap abuse and pour scorn on PIRA."

But it was possible, he said, "to gain sympathy and genuine emotion from these very emotional people" by talking about, for instance, the family of a murdered 18-year-old soldier or the massacre of Protestants.

Capt Nairac was known as an unorthodox officer whose penchant for trying to engage in debate with IRA sympathisers contributed to his death. He advocated various approaches for different age groups.

With those between 14 and 25, he said: "The best line of approach is to try to share their convictions. Some of them have a conscience and if so they will have some doubts. One good line from you could shake them out of their attitudes."

A senior Royal Ulster Constabulary officer said this statement displayed a degree of naivety. "Capt Nairac was literally straying on to very dangerous ground in pushing this theory. The depth of commitment to the republican cause in South Armagh is so deep it's almost inbred and for a British officer to challenge it in open debate was not wise."

Capt Nairac's report, however, demonstrated a rare appreciation of the psyche of the border republican. " South Armagh is traditionally a lawless and independent-minded area," he wrote.

"It is resentful of authority of any kind. Furthermore, certain things are taboo. It is said that if you raped your next-door neighbour it will soon be forgotten: if your grandfather was an `informer' you would be an outcast."

He continued: "Never use the words `inform', `information', `witness' or `intimidate'. Never write anything down; it smacks of police work. Never offer money for `information'. (It may come to that after months of cultivation but to offer it is fatal)."

Capt Nairac's contention that a military defeat of the IRA was highly unlikely later became established doctrine within the Army.

But the murdered officer concluded his report: "If approached the right way, the fence-sitter will come down on our side. When that happens we have won."

14 November 1996

Hate and fear add up to bad business for an Irish village

WHEN three-year-old Ross Ramsey saw his father's burned-out oil delivery lorry, he burst into tears. "Why did the bad men do this?", he asked. For Victor Ramsey, the answer was simple: it was the start of a campaign to drive the few remaining Protestants out of Pomeroy.

Mr Ramsey's business is one of dozens throughout Northern Ireland that are struggling to survive after a four-month boycott that shows no signs of abating. There are only three Protestant-owned businesses in the village in east Tyrone. About 95 per cent of the 600-strong population is Roman Catholic.

Before civil unrest started across the province in July, he had about 80 Catholic clients. All this changed when the RUC and Army forced an Orange parade from Drumcree church along the nationalist Garvaghy Road.

Yesterday, as his wife, Violet, tidied up the accounts on her kitchen table, she could count only three Catholic customers.

Stanley Boyd, whose brother, a fridge repair man, was shot dead by the IRA in 1993, said he had suffered a 25 per cent drop in trade. Catholic women whom he had known all his life would no longer come into his general store.

Robert Rainey, a butcher and milk supplier, had been forced to sell his milk round after he was warned not to deliver to Catholic houses. He took no notice until a petrol bomb exploded outside his parents' house.

In Pomeroy, like much of Ulster, each side has marked out its territory. At the bottom of Main Street is the Presbyterian church, built in the shadow of the heavily-fortified Royal Ulster Constabulary station. The kerbstones, touched up for the Glorious Twelfth each year, are red, white and blue.

At the top of the hill, an Irish tricolour flies from the telegraph pole opposite the Catholic chapel. Foot-high slogans declaring: "IRA All the Way", "Brits Out" and "Disband the RUC" are daubed on a wall next to the Park View housing estate.

The Ramseys' home overlooking Main Street, is the closest Protestant house. "It began the week of Drumcree," said Mrs Ramsey, 36. "The orders dropped off immediately. Catholics were told their cars and houses would be burned if they continued to deal with us.

Early one morning, Mr Ramsey, a part-time fireman, was called to a blaze next to his house. His delivery lorry had been doused in petrol and set alight.

"Things are as bad as ever now," he said. "We feel under constant threat from Sinn Fein/IRA who won't be happy until they have driven the last Protestant out of Pomeroy."

His business had survived only, he said, because Protestants from as far as 40 miles away - from Ballymena, Fermanagh and Portadown - had rallied round by placing new orders.

Sinn Fein denies orchestrating any campaign of boycotts. "Some people quite legitimately said to Orange business people: `You can't expect to treat me as you did over July and August and then expect me to come to your business and put money in your till'," said Gerry Adams in a statement.

The Rev William Bingham, Pomeroy's Presbyterian minister, described this as "claptrap" that even the most gullible would see through. "This has nothing to do with parades," he said.

"Victor Ramsey is an Orangemen but he was nowhere near Drumcree during the summer. Stanley Boyd would be hardly fit enough to walk the length of the street never mind march along the Garvaghy Road. Robert Rainey is not a member of the Orange Institution. None of them took part in any loyalist roadblocks.

"This is Sinn Fein's long war strategy. It's another way of putting the screw on Protestants. People were told by hardline republicans not to go to Protestant shops. Our folk feel that Sinn Fein is determined to make this a republican village."

The few Catholics who have defied the republicans have faced increasing intimidation. Paddy Conlon, an 80-year-old recovering from a stroke, was filling his kettle when he heard a gushing sound from his back garden.

He went out to find that someone had used an axe to rupture his oil tank. He watched helplessly as the fuel, which had cost him pounds 300 the day before, poured across his lawn. Mr Conlon, whose crime had been to buy his oil from Mr Ramsey, said he would not give in to threats. "I like young Ramsey. He gives me a fair deal. But like all my Catholic neighbours I have been pressed to stop dealing with Protestant businesses.

"Some agree with it, others are too frightened to say no. But I won't have anything to do with this boycott. It's madness to be ruining the livelihoods of people we've known and dealt with for years."

Mr Bingham, said that the "dramatic improvements" in life in Pomeroy during the IRA ceasefire had disappeared. Protestant and Roman Catholic children were going on trips together as part of a cross-community initiative. But as soon as the boycott started Protestants withdrew their children.

He added: "In my first eight months in the parish four years ago I lost four of my congregation to the IRA. The fear is that we are going back to where we were. Things are tense across most of Northern Ireland and our information is that the IRA is going to go for the big event.

"If the RUC station goes up then we go up with it. You have to live with that. We used to have our bags packed every night before going to bed in case we had to get out quickly."

Mrs Ramsey said she was scared for her four children. "The other night young fellows who couldn't have been more than 15 or 16 threw bangers at us. They were wearing black balaclavas with holes cut for the eyes and mouth.

"They called us `Drumcree bastards'. We're like black sheep at this end of town. In the summer I'd have gone anywhere to get out of here but I refuse to give in now. This is our home and our business. Why should we move?"

10 August 1996

Modern Londonderry is unable to throw off the sectarian legacy of its violent history

Divided city that marches to a different drum

LOYALISTS put up red, white and blue bunting and republican murals were given a fresh lick of paint in preparation for marchers today in an atmosphere which excluded any attempt to reach across the divide.

In the Fountain, a Protestant enclave of 500 people in the shadow of the southern edge of Londonderry's walls, Roland Hughes admitted that he was frightened.

"There are people here considering moving out," he said. "The fear is that this is about getting rid of us from the west bank. It is a doomsday situation."

Mr Hughes, 51, a community worker, has lived in the Fountain for 29 years and will march with his fellow Apprentice Boys today. "We march to commemorate 1688 and we are under siege now as we were then. There used to be thousands of us here but people have gradually moved out.

"Even though we are defenceless, we are a resilient people. I will sit here until somebody torches my house. Only then will I run like hell." Across the street, children were building a stack of wooden pallets for the eve-of-siege bonfire.

"I am British and why should I run around hiding it. The kerbstones here are painted with the colours of our national flag and I'm proud of that. Now I have to worry about where to go at night. That's not right."

Older residents of the Fountain said they remembered when Catholics would visit the area on Aug 10. "We had five pubs up here and they would come along to see what was happening. The Apprentice Boys would lend them drums for their Hibernian parade," Andy Boyd, 64, said.

"Protestant people can march along the walls 364 days a year but now we're told that as soon as we put on a crimson collarette we become something else. It is the IRA that stirred the whole thing up."

His wife, Lilah, 55, told how they moved into the Fountain 13 years ago after an IRA bomb exploded next to their previous home. "I had four dinner plates left and I just had to get out. Now we are wondering whether we should be packing our bags again."

George Glenn, chairman of the Fountain Area Partnership, said he could see his work to regenerate the area disappearing. "It's a continuation of the war without guns by the IRA."

Down in the Bogside, the slogan "Peace or War?" daubed on the western city walls was a reminder of the choice facing the people of Northern Ireland. At the top of the walls, the barbed wire and screens put up by the Royal Ulster Constabulary on Wednesday were visible.

"We have no rights here so why should the Protestant people have the right to march along the walls?" asked Martina Doherty, 25 and unemployed.

"There is a lot of anger here after Drumcree. A fellow I knew was murdered by British troops. They didn't care who it was as long as it was a Catholic. He had just gone for a drink when he was deliberately run over. If they can put 10,000 people on the walls then we can put 10,000 there too. The Apprentice Boys marches are all about sectarianism, racism and bigotry."

Many on the streets of the Bogside, however, were angry that plans for a republican march had not been abandoned. "The Protestants are feeling bad and there's no point in rubbing their noses in it," said a middle-aged woman.

She said she did not know who those leading the Bogside Residents' Group were. "Whoever they are, they don't represent me. We had the good life for two years and now we just want to get on with it again."

The handful of people who had expressed similar views at a meeting held by the residents' group the previous night had been heckled.

In the audience of 200 were Martin McGuinness and other leading republicans including Raymond McCartney, a blanket protester in the Maze prison in the 1970s.

Donncha MacNiallais, leader of the association and a convicted IRA terrorist, was greeted with cheers. "Sealing Derry's walls is a victory for no one," he said. "It's an indictment on us all that they are now occupied by British soldiers."

The Mayor of Derry, who lost the trappings of office after he took part in a loyalist roadblock, began a legal fight yesterday.

Solicitors acting for Richard Dallas, 27, lodged an application at the High Court in Belfast seeking a judicial review of Derry City Council's decision.