Say Nothing - Patrick Radden Keefe: A book (reaction)
Image from book
Image from book
Upon finishing Patrick Radden Keefe’s ‘Say Nothing,’ a work of investigative journalism that pieces together the broken fragments of “ The Troubles” in Northern Ireland, I was bursting with a sense of injustice and confusion about whether I was immorally sympathising with terrorists.
I wanted to google Sinn Féin, get to the bottom of unanswered murders and, and…mostly - I wanted to tell my Dad all about it. To sit down with wine and have him help me thrash out the mess in my mind. I needed to find a moral position on The Troubles that felt just, considering all the atrocities that book unpicks. In fact, by the end of the book, “The Troubles” started to sound a little esoteric and timid, the kind of term that a grandmother might use to gloss over a family member’s indiscretion, that ought not be discussed in public.
Turns out, finding a moral position is not that easy. Say Nothing doesn’t give conclusions as much as it explains many perspectives on the truth of the events. Viewing The Troubles through the eyes of those interviewed, it illustrates how humans can push their minds and bodies to inconceivable limits, how much a cause gives them the will to do so, and how they reckon with their actions when their cause disintegrates.
From the 1960s to 1990s fights occurred simultaneously between the Irish and the British and the Catholics and the Protestants. A certain toughness was embedded in anyone who’d lived through any part of the 30 years of violence. Dolours Price was an attractive young political activist for the Irish Republican Army (IRA). When she recounts being involved in a Catholic peace-protest that marched through several small towns in a bid to end the religious persecutions in Ireland, she was ambushed and pummelled with bricks. Managing to escape, she returned home and told her mother. Her mother responded by asking why she hadn’t fought back. Price’s Aunt Birdie was left blind with no hands after having been blown up by a bomb she was planting before Price was born. She was considered a family hero. The fight was passed down from generation to generation. Parents were proud of their children’s involvement, even if it meant their children risked their lives or wasted away.
Price never had a good relationship with food after hunger striking in a London cell, where she was imprisoned after bombing the Old Bailey Courthouse in 1973. After hunger striking for just over two weeks, she then spent another 167 days being force-fed through a metal device and tube. She was transferred to Armagh prison in Ireland, where she developed anorexia dropping to 33kg before she was hospitalised. Even then her mother didn’t discourage Dolours’ life-threatening crusade - rather she admired her audacity.
The Belfast Project was initiated by a small department within Boston College whose mission was to preserve a complete collection of accounts from The Troubles. They conducted covert interviews with ex-IRA members who risked arrest from the police or death for betraying the IRA, should the interviews become public. The Belfast Project was a reassuring thought. Perhaps all this destruction would amount to something meaningful for future generations to learn from. For participants, who could tell their version of truth, the interviews were a means of confronting their past actions. While not condoning violence, it felt reasonable to sympathise with many of those involved, at times to even fall into step barracking for them. Reading these accounts of The Troubles, it became a struggle to maintain sight of the moral high-ground as sympathy seeped in.
There were only two people for whom I could not garner an ounce of sympathy. Rather, it was a relief to be able to place the blame squarely on -Margaret Thatcher (Prime Minister of the United Kingdom) and Gerry Adams (Leader of the IRA) - Although neither of their perspectives was included in the book, both Thatcher and Adams appear puppet-masters. They controlled others according to their political strategies and both seemed willing to throw their loyal followers under the bus if need be.
At the time the British Army was using severe methods of ‘enhanced interrogation’ that were developed by a British Officer, Frank Kitson, while he was based in Africa. His techniques were used again on suspected IRA members. In 1972 a peaceful march was held against these interrogation methods and internment without trial. British soldiers shot 26 unarmed Irish civilians at the Bogside Massacre, aka the Bloody Sunday of which U2’s Bono sings. In 1978 the European Court of Human Rights decided that the techniques, while degrading and inhuman, didn’t amount to torture. This ruling opened the doors for President Bush to use them at Guantanamo Bay years later. Aside from the torture and the shooting of civilians, the British army was also running informants within the IRA. Some had been informants living dual lives for decades, and had been promoted to key IRA positions. These positions often meant they were involved in violence. A British officer spoke with Thatcher about his concern that the British were effectively permitting mass murder. She ordered them to keep doing what they were doing, and not discuss those details with her.
Gerry Adams seems to be the founder of Fake News, answering sticky media questions about his IRA involvement with a hollow denial. As a leader of the IRA, the politician was known never to put himself in a compromising position, rather let others do his dirty work. He orchestrated operations and inspired recruits. When it didn’t suit him to be a part of the IRA publicly, he took the - now tried and tested - politically successful approach of simply denying the obvious.
Rick O’Rave, a participant in The Belfast Project summarises the intelligence and ruthlessness of Adams’ personality,’…anyone capable of playing such a long and calculating game and dispatching six men to an unnecessary death must be a genius of political strategy - but also a sociopath.’ This recollection refers to Adams declining an offer that would have saved six hunger strikers. The six deaths would lead to anger and increased support for the IRA - politically, it served him if they died.
The Guardian printed in February of this year that Drew Harris, (Garda Commissioner and former Senior Officer of the Police Services of Northern Ireland), agreed that the IRA Council still oversees the Sinn Féin Party. Sinn Féin reportedly supported the marriage equality bill and to legalise abortion. They stand against anti-immigrant policies and prioritise addressing the housing crisis, all policies of a party that might be fairly reasonable to support, were it not for this large question mark over its past. Although the party denies that it is overseen by the IRA, The Guardian also reported that Gerry Adams was, secretly, put on the negotiating panel this year as Sinn Féin attempted to form a government with political party Fianna Fáil.
War was never declared, but there was violence for 30 years. The fight was subversive with ulterior motives, creating an environment where no one could be trusted. Yet so many acted in blind faith. The participants of the IRA were strong-willed, the hunger strikers one extreme example. Despite their resolve one can’t help but feel they were all exploited.
When the cause that so many risked their lives for (and took lives in the name of) just fizzles out…where does that anger go? When so many still have their own secret history associated with The Troubles - one that if revealed still risks punishment - how can the cloud of mystery ever be lifted?
Say Nothing educates through the eyes of others, and the more information it gives, the more questions it creates. What kind of justice could possibly bring closure to such a twisted set of tragedies? To all those who still have unanswered questions - would the truth even be enough - or would it only be painful? In any case the whole truth is unlikely to ever come out, because there will always be witnesses who believe silence is their only option and so they will continue to say nothing.