(This article first appeared in the Andersonstown News)
All changed, changed utterly? The Saville Inquiry into Bloody Sunday took as long as it did and cost as much as it did because Britain insisted on hanging onto as much documentation from that time as possible. Westminster fingers had to be prised clear, one by one, of documents that dealt with what they got up to during that time. And even then, documents released were heavily redacted.
From Britain’s point of view, the death-grip makes sense. If you’ve been arguing for decades that the Troubles involved two tribes attacking each other, with Britain caught in the role of referee, you’re not going to be happy if documentation shows you weren’t a referee at all but a beneath-the-table player who arranged for terrible things to happen. The neutral referee is the role Britain has chosen and it makes sense to conceal anything which contradicts that role.
But had you been watching Theresa Villiers on The View with Mark Carruthers last week, you’d be forgiven for thinking that all was changed. The Secretary of State assured Mark that the British government had committed itself to turn over all and everything so that truth might emerge. At her words I reeled back in my chair. Could this really be the British Secretary of State speaking, or had some pre-Christmas spirit taken possession of her body and brain?
A few minutes later I unreeled. Under further interrogation from Mark, Theresa conceded that of course there could be elements within the documents– sensitive material – that would harm Britain’s security. Given the ISIS-ridden times we live in, such elements would have to be ‘redacted’.
It’s a darlin’ word, redacted. It means censoring. Putting a big black rectangle over a word or even a sentence, because to do otherwise would be to let others know what you did. So the new frank position of the British government is actually the same old position: we’ll pretend to be fully open and glasnosty, but in fact we’ll be censoring …well, anything that we deem in need of censoring. On top of that, Theresa has boasted that the British government has been more open about its activities during the Troubles than any other of the combatants.
So if you’re looking at British willingness to release documentation, then indeed Theresa may have given birth to a terrible beauty. But it is a still-birth, because Theresa and the British government will most certainly not release material that’ll show them as dodgy participant rather than neutral referee.
It reminds me of a Religious Discussion Group we sixth formers had in St Columb’s College, circa 1959. The priest in charge would patiently answer all and any challenging questions on faith which the likes of Eamonn McCann threw his way. But every half-hour or so the poor man would find he’d been driven up a theological cul-de-sac and would sigh:“It’s a mystery, boys”.
Darlin’ words, those two – mystery and redaction. They mark the point at which Authority has no choice but to do a body-swerve around full and frank disclosure. God moves in mysterious ways and the British government moves in redacted ways, and if you don’t like it you may lump it.
No terrible beauties to be seen here, folks. Move along, please.
There is a lot of evidence out there that could yet come forward. There are ex combatants now pastors who have even though since turning to god, apparently, remained tight lipped.
What is needed is an victim led amnesty for those who come forward voluntarily with information on victim approved cases within a defined period that will provide truth and closure if not full justice. For that reason it should be up to the victims to decide whether their individual case goes this route.
Information that comes forward from one case may shed light on another potentially where the victim has not approved for amnesty.
Anyone who does not come forward within the timeframe should lose any protection from any agreed amnesty.
Otherwise, these people will simply not come forward, men of god or not.
In reality, does anybody expect the colonial power to release information which would incriminate them in the eyes of the world? And what do the local war lords stand to gain from releasing information about their behaviour? We’ll just wait until the combatants are dead or dying and then some greasy politician in England will release an apology. We’ll all be friends and they can sell us some armaments.
End of term report on SOS states she has been absent frequently and does not complete allocated tasks.
Slightly off topic, but still related to the subject of disclosure:
I listened to the Ombudsman’s report this morning where four PSNI officers should have been disciplined for not disclosing information in the investigation into the attempted murder of one of their own, Const Peadar Heffernan.
I was shocked (ok, I shouldn’t have been) when the PSNI union representative spoke in support of those who had wilfully not carried out their sworn duty of peace keeping, and his offhand manner towards the Ombudsman and his attempts to see justice done.
At about 10am on the Andersonstown Road a police Land Rover was towing a trailer with a large poster with the name Military Reaction Force, asking the public to supply information in a number of murder cases.
Irony or what!
Their own officers refuse to give information which might help the investigation into the attempted murder of ‘one of their own’ (I’m sure the fact he is a Catholic hasn’t made the difference to them – much), and yet on the day it becomes public they are out on the roads expecting the general public to give similar information.
Unmitigated gall, brass neck and arrogance – or is it stupidity?
Britain is not the only temporary political entity, Esteemed Blogmeister, which leans towards viewing the role of Britain as that of the ‘neutral referee’ rather than that of ‘dodgy participant’ in Norneverland.
The Free Southern Stateen is not behind the fine failed state when it comes to stepping up to this particular plate of, erm, savoury tart. Certainly if one is to judge by the effusive welcome its Minister of Foreign Affairs extended to Arlene, the first female leader of the DUP.
Rivalling in global warmth the welcome the same minister extended to Therese, only the second Secretary of State in the sexist Six Counties. Call him Charlie Flan Again (for it is he!). A flan, of course, is a savoury tart.
As wee Sommy McCann once famously lyricized:
-In Nama-land there’s a one man band
And he’ll toot his flute for you.
Once again Charlie is your only man: and his flute of choice would be, sans doute, the old orange variety.
-If you can use some exotic booze
There’s a bar in far Bombay Street.
Now, as to why the Foreign Minister of the FSS should include Norneverland in his glass of portfolio rather than leaving it to his junior, Minister for Foreign Interference, is, as questions go, neither here nor there. Or, non-existent as both Kennys would put it: Endless Enda and Patronising Pat.
Non-existent is, coincidentally, the same word which the latter used is his programme on Newstalk FM this morning in relation to the First Official Language and its presence on the monoglot streets of Liffeyside. He used it while interviewing Criona Ni Dhalaigh, Dublin’s First Citizen in the Mansion House/ Teach an Ard-Mheara.
Newstalk FM is, coincidentally, the same Cahillphate radio station which turned first today to noted tax consultant, Senator Mairia, for her, erm, slab of financial expertise on an ongoing border-case fiduciary matter, now seemingly at an end. Said Senator is one tax consultant who certainly knows here evasion from her avoidance. That would be Mairia without the fatwah, oops, fada.
(Though in truth, respected confectioners are in two minds as to whether the slab mentioned above is of the yellowman / fear bui variety or not).
Speaking of Cahillphates, the nonaligned and neutral peacebroker Foreign Minister Flan Again has not only been a crusading figure in the fight against the evil of terrorism in Sandyland, but has added his Tayto-flavoured voice with its Queen’s County accent, in support of the drones of NATO. He has also, as it were, washed his hands, Pontius Pilate-like, of any collateral civilian damage to which the NATO non-drone pilots are, seemingly, prone.
Fatima, incidentally, is another female name which straddles borders. Not only was she the daughter of the prophet Muhammad but is the place in Portugal where, in 1917, Our Lady appeared to the then chosen ones, nine year old Lucia and her two cousints, Jacinta and Francesco. Divulging, in the process the Three Secrets of Fatima.
In fairness, going backward, Theresa V., the keeper of the secrets of the War Office, makes Our Lady of Fatima come across like the Town Crier.
For more years than one cares to remember Fatima Mansions could well have been auditioning for the role of the Bleak House of Dublin. That all ended however when the run-down and dilapidated block of downmarket flats were demolished. And rebuilt and renamed as upmarket Herberton Apartments. Which would seem to indicate that the original Fatima was not the lady of Islamic persuasion.
The role of the Bleak House of Dublin has since been made its own by, cad eile/ what else, Leinster House. In an acclaimed production of the eponymous Dickensian novel some years ago, one of the most memorable characters was the mean-spirted moneylender with a heart, oops, a handbag of gold, Mr. Smallweed.
He was carried around in a sedan chair as befitted his status in society, not unlike the way in which, say, a formidable Foreign Minister might be carried by a fawning media (no names, no p.d.), and his most quirky trait was to have a female apple polisher on hand to grab him under the arms and ‘shake him up’.
One understands that there are three names short listed for this role with regard to the Smallweed of Bleak House, Kildare Street: Arlene, Therese and (gulp) Mairia.
Great.story.Jude.
I.think.so.too
Merry Christmas.Jude.to.you.and.your.family.
Agus.Tú. Fein.Jim.