Mick Clifford: In the Republic, democratic norms and rights  abused to an appalling degree

The Saville Report in 2010 belatedly and completely exonerated those who had died, and prompted a state apology from the British government. The campaign for an inquiry was initiated and driven by the families, but they did receive some
assistance along the way.

In 1997, five years after the campaign was started, the Irish government submitted a detailed report on the matter to Tony Blair’s incoming administration, seeking a public inquiry.

Blair set up Saville the following year.

The Bloody Sunday campaign is not the only one in which an Irish government got involved on behalf of those who were victims of state violence north of the border. The current administration is backing a campaign to stop Boris Johnson’s government introducing an amnesty for historical killings. This week, Taoiseach Micheál Martin stated that there can be “no unilateral action” by the British government on the legacy of the Troubles.

Successive Dublin governments have also sought justice for the hooded men, the 14 individuals who were detained and tortured viciously in the North in 1971. Last December, the UK Supreme Court ruled that a 2014 decision to stop an investigation into the matter was wrong. The Taoiseach welcomed the ruling.

“There should have been an investigation much, much earlier on, in what was clear use of torture and an abuse of the basic human rights of these people,” said Mr Martin.

So there is a clear pattern of Irish governments supporting campaigns for historical inquiries into the use of state violence in the North. But for some reason, the same enthusiasm is completely absent when it comes to campaigns for historical inquiries into the use of State violence in the Government’s own jurisdiction.

Over the last three weeks, RTÉ Television has broadcast Crimes and Confessions, a series that looked at different cases in the 1970s and 1980s which featured multiple allegations of State violence and the abuse of human rights.

The first was the killing of Una Lynskey in 1971, and its aftermath. The Sallins train robbery in 1976 followed, and last Monday dealt with the Kerry Babies case in 1984. In each of these, the State has paid out compensation to victims whose rights had been abused. Each case featured the eliciting of confessions in custody that were subsequently shown to be terribly flawed.

Those who provided the confessions all said that they had been intimidated or assaulted and that pressure led to them admitting to crimes they did not commit. The gardaí who secured the confessions were all from the murder squad. Some within that unit were known as ‘The Heavy Gang’, although former members of the unit claim there was no ‘Heavy Gang’. Mick Peelo, the reporter on the programme, stated that he had come across 20 cases in which convictions were secured by the same group of detectives.

What emerges from Crimes And Confessions is a pattern in which the State has recognised similar wrongs done to a succession of innocent victims, yet there is no conclusion on how exactly they were wronged. None of the gardaí involved in any of these cases has ever been charged or even disciplined for assaulting anybody in custody.

Retired detective inspector Gerry O’Carroll was involved in two of the three cases that featured.

“The murder squad that I joined was a very, I have to say, exclusive and select unit that were picked out of all the countryside,” he told the programme.

He was present at the interrogations in the Sallins case.

“We did not fabricate anything,” O’Carroll said. “I did not see in the Bridewell [station] that night anybody being ill-treated by any garda.”

He personally interrogated Joanne Hayes in the Kerry Babies case.

“Joanne and I got on like a house on fire,” he said. “I was nice to that girl.”

His recollections are in complete contrast to those of the victims who feature on the programme.

There are glaring parallels between the allegations of State violence in the Republic in the 1970s and 80s and what occurred north of the border. Both governments saw themselves as having to take on the Provisional IRA, which was attempting to kill its way to a united Ireland. The Provos had no regard for human life, killing anybody — including children — whose deaths they believed might further their agenda.

The murder squad, according to O’Carroll, was briefed with taking on what he described as “the fucking Provos”.

Undoubtedly, that was a tough task, in which the enemy could manipulate or ignore the law, but the agents of the State were supposed to observe the law at all times. Such is the price of democracy.

And in both jurisdictions, there is copious evidence that the respective states succumbed to the base standards of their enemies, and destroyed innocent lives as a result. The worst example in the North was Bloody Sunday, which could have been lifted from the playbook of a dictatorship in a totalitarian state.

In the Republic, democratic norms and rights were abused to an appalling degree during Garda investigations, but we still don’t know the official detail of what happened.

What we do know is that the culture that infected An Garda Síochána during the early 1970s persisted long after any perceived threat to the State had receded.

For instance, two of the items in Crimes and Confessions, the Lynskey killing and the Kerry Babies case, did not involve anything to do with politics, the North, or the supposed security of the State. And there were multiple other examples down through the decades where the gardaí continued to believe they could act with impunity because they had done so since the days when the body politic believed the State to be under siege.

A proper inquiry into where democratic norms broke down is required. Osgur Breatnach, who says he was tortured and beaten while in custody in the Sallins robbery investigation, has been campaigning for 40 years for such an inquiry.

Last September, I asked the Department of Justice if the Government would consider the merits of his campaign.

“The department is not aware of any matter of public interest which would warrant reopening the matter, given that the courts have adjudicated on the cases in 1980,” a spokesperson said.

So the Taoiseach believes there is a public interest in pursuing justice for the hooded men in the North, but none for those who claim they were tortured in custody in the Republic?

Rather than continuing to point a finger at the Brits, perhaps Mr Martin might look in the mirror.