Posted by Jim on February 4, 2013
Tommy McKearney has penned a review on his own blog of Ian Cobain’s book Cruel Britannia. A Secret History of Torture.
Britain’s public and its government are currently devoting significant attention to the behaviour of the nation’s broadcast and print media. Both Parliament and the people are, understandably, concerned to ensure that the powerful Murdoch News Corporation and the equally influential BBC are conducting their affairs properly and with decency. The British people are entitled to know, and indeed demand, that newsgathering is done using correct procedures and that information relating to matters of public concern will be disseminated, whether or not it causes embarrassment to those in positions of power.
It would appear, however, that this commendable degree of scrutiny over Britain’s media does not extend to the country’s military and intelligence gathering services. Ian Cobain’s excellent new book, Cruel Britannia: A Secret History of Torture, reveals with a well researched investigation, that Britain’s secret services supported by the military and authorised by successive governments have systematically used torture against enemy personnel and insurgents over many decades.
While Cobain has done an admirable job in providing ample evidence to support his assertion that torture was and continues to be a pillar of British security policy, this is not the most remarkable aspect of his book. It would be strange indeed if, having used torture in every field of conflict the UK has been engaged in since World War II, that there was an absence of such evidence. Cobain does indeed detail at length the sorry history of Britain’s use of torture but what his book also reveals is the astonishing lengths that British governments go to in order to deny and cover-up that which is so well known to its many victims (and the UK’s allies) across four continents.
Unlike the United States, where former president George Bush has stated publicly that he authorised `water-boarding’ suspects (a practice widely recognised as torture), Britain has consistently denied employing what the Americans euphemistically describe as enhanced interrogation techniques.
On some occasions British denials have taken the form of a Jesuitical-like redefining of what constitutes torture. Responding, for example, to allegations of torture in Northern Ireland during the early 1970s, the then British government commissioned Sir Edward Compton to carry out a limited investigation. His conclusion was that physical ill-treatment (hooding, wall-standing, white noise, sleep deprivation, food deprivation) had in fact occurred but that this did not constitute physical brutality and therefore acquitted his employer of torture. Evidence of prisoners being also routinely beaten was apparently overlooked by the inquiry.
More often, though, British governments have simply lied about the brutal methods employed by its security services. By way of illustration, Cobain refers to a statement made by Armed Forces Minister Adam Ingram to the House of Commons in June 2004, `We are not aware’ he said, `of any incidents in which United Kingdom interrogators are alleged to have used hooding as an interrogation technique’. A claim he repeated to Parliament’s Joint Committee on Human Rights in spite of the fact that he had been aware from the previous September of the use of hoods during interrogation. Evidence of his awareness was to emerge some years later at a subsequent inquiry.
When the issue of torture is occasionally publicly aired in Britain, as in the inquiry referred to above, the discussion tends to be sidetracked into a debate over whether the end justifies the means. Moreover, the conversation to date is usually set in a short-term context and always in the absence of adequate information. Such obfuscation misses the point that torturing an enemy may, at best, deal with the symptoms of a problem but it cannot address the underlying issue. Containing an insurgency is not the same as settling a long running and deeply rooted dispute.
Ian Cobain’s book, Cruel Britannia: A Secret History of Torture, provides the evidence and argument that are essential for a properly enlightened debate to take place about Britain’s use of torture.
Throughout this work, the author leaves us in no doubt that torture occurs and is endorsed at the highest level. What is not so clear is whether Cobain’s shocking exposé will generate sufficient outrage that the British government will be obliged to desist from violating its prisoners’ human rights. Worthy though the book is in every other respect, it provides little grounds for optimism that Britannia is becoming less cruel.
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by Carrie McIntyre on Monday, January 28, 2013 at 3:43pm ·
“If Dolours had a big fault, it was perhaps that she lived out too urgently the ideals to which so many others also purported to be dedicated.
“She was a liberator but never managed to liberate herself from those ideas. Sometimes we are imprisoned within ideals; sometimes in war atrocious things are done; sometimes hard things have to be done.
“Sometimes it is very difficult to handle the hard things that you felt compelled to do when you are soft-hearted at the core of your being. And Dolours was a soft-hearted person as well as a hard person in her politics.” – Eamonn McCann, who was a very close and great friend of Dolours, speaking at her graveside.
He described their friendship as a 40 year love affair, and I know she loved him and relied on him for so much. It has been a long few days. I am not even sure how many days it has been, to be honest. Dolours was found late Wednesday night and we were told of her death Thursday morning. I did not sleep that night. I find everything tinged with an incredible sadness.
Friday I took the train up to Belfast, and called with friends to the wake house. We returned to their place and they got me incredibly drunk which frankly I needed. I slept away most of Saturday, which was also needed. Saturday night we went to the Andytown Road black flag vigil where we stood in the cold, windy air for an hour or so, lined up the length of the road from beyond the leisure centre and past Casement park. We held our flags as they fluttered and cars passed by. Many young people were in attendance, more than I have ever seen in years of white line picket protests. It was sombre, and felt a fitting way to show the solidarity that defined her in that nether world between death and burial. We called briefly into the wake house again, too late to be with Dolours again; she was so near, yet never so far, never to return. Sadness mixed with anger at the frustration of her sister Marian being denied the chance to say goodbye – cruel, unnecessarily heartless; knowing the incredible bond between the two, unimaginable the loss.
Sunday was a long bus ride up and back to Derry for the Bloody Sunday march. Freezing cold. Bernadette McAliskey spoke. Seeing “RIP DOLOURS PRICE” on Derry’s walls brought a bittersweet smile; she would have loved that act of defiance and comradeship, and would have loved being the subject of it. Anger shimmered in the air of the crowd, buzzing with word of Marian’s clandestine three-hour visit to the wake-house in the early hours of the morning – at a cost of £150,000, cash, hastily and not easily raised on a Saturday. I can’t imagine how lonely Marian must feel now; memories of being denied her mother’s funeral, who never did see the two sisters back in Ireland again, crowding with living again in prison, denied the last days of those she loves most.
To think about both Marian and Dolours brings an unbearable sadness. More so because it should not be – the women I knew were vibrant women, fighters, feisty, strong; not broken by the burdens they shoulder. These burdens heaped upon them now are too much for any one person, for any family.
We called back to the wake house late in the evening upon return from Derry, and my husband and children joined me. My daughter, being older, has more memories of her “Aunty Dodo”; my son was her godson. Too little to remember very much, too young to understand, he was incredulous as he watched his daddy kiss Dolours goodbye, telling me in the car later in a stage whisper, “Daddy kissed a dead body!” with fascinated horror. My daughter is moved by it all. She sees how the loss of her friend is affecting her mother. She holds my hand and inquires how I am feeling, if I am ok, or asks “What’s wrong”. I squeeze her hand and tell her I am just sad, too sad for words. She tries to hold her own tears in, feeling the grief around her.
We call at friends’ homes and I am grateful for the small kindnesses shown. The slagging and teasing and the ability to just talk about everything. The shared frustrated outrage. The love.
The funeral was today. I held her coffin on my shoulder and thought only of her, why was she gone, why was I carrying her to her grave, how much she struggled and suffered and what an awful way we eventually find peace. The rain was ceaseless, soaking all of us. The Armagh Prison women who formed her guard walked her from her home, to the chapel, to the grave, every step of the way, through every drop of rain. Dolours would have felt she deserved no less, but would have also craved the recognition, the validation: she was a Volunteer; she gave the ultimate sacrifice: her mind, her heart, her soul, her life.
Eamonn McCann and Bernadette McAliskey spoke at her graveside. McCann was a very close friend of Dolours’, someone she relied upon greatly. Bernadette has been to the fore in campaigning for Marian. I hope McCann’s speech was recorded, or transcribed somewhere; he did her justice. Bernadette’s message was frank, and simple: this conflict has been hard. We must embrace our friends, our comrades. Be a friend to each other. Take the time. She is right. We all hurt, we all struggle, we all bear burdens. Reaching out, being there, even for a half hour phone call, or just to say ‘Hello – I am thinking of you’ – don’t let those we know, and maybe even don’t know, are hurting, drown in the sorrows they cannot abide, and feel they cannot share.
I hugged Bernadette afterwards and introduced her to my daughter. “This is the woman you are named for,” I wanted her to know. Take heed, sweetheart, you are part of a tradition of strong women. Learn from them, from Dolours, the strength of your convictions, and from Bernadette, compassion. From both, learn love.
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by Helen McClafferty on Monday, February 4, 2013 at 4:46am •
A great night was had by all at the welcome home function for Gerry McGeough. The venue was packed. Several hundred people from East Tyrone, across Ireland and overseas gathered for what was a truly upbeat and energy packed night. The craic, as they say, was absolutely fantastic. The band, The Irish Brigade, kept us all on our toes with lively rebel music and everyone appeared to thoroughly enjoy themselves. I was really impressed by the turnout and especially the number of young people there. Damian Herron, northern Chair of the Free Gerry McGeough Campaign and Chairman of the Gerry McGeough Welcome Home Function, emceed the event. The speeches went over extremely well. I was a little nervous in delivering my speech at first, but the crowd made me feel extremely welcome. I thanked all those who worked so hard on the campaign and for the generous support we received from the AOH in the United States and other supporters across the country and afar. We had an array of flags displayed around the room which included the Irish Tri-Color, the Stars and Stripes, the Catalan (Senyera) flag, the flag of the state of New Jersey and a Hibernian flag. Everyone was delighted that Eamon O’Cuiv made it up to the event and delivered a rousing speech. Martin Galvin’s oratory once again rose to the occasion and was well received by the enthusastic audience present. Moya St. Leger’s speech was brilliant in its analysis of the injustices perpetrated on Gerry. Jordi San Jose, Mayor of San Fileu in Catalonia, stole the hearts of the people with his praise for the courage of the Irish people. Luz Retuerta, Maria’s sister, pointed out how they have adopted Ireland as their second country. Una McGeough excelled herself as always and prompted Eamon O’Cuiv to say “that she was a future politician in the making”. Gerry McGeough’s speech received a standing ovation and the crowd howled with laughter when he poked fun at his “old friend” DUP MLA Morris Morrow. Grown men were moved to tears when Gerry touched upon the suffering of the Irish people over the centuries under English rule. At the end of Gerry’s speech he called for the English establishment “to get out of Ireland and for the country to be united and free”. He finished up by invoking the old saying “Ireland was Ireland when England was a pup”. “Ireland will be Ireland when England’s buggered up”. At the close of the venue, spirits were high when a young lady approached me and said she was the cousin of the late hunger striker Martin Hurson. She told me she hadn’t been to such a positive venue like this in a long time and what a good time she had. She said “I wish there could be more “do’s” like this again, so positive and so upbeat”.
Posted by Jim on January 29, 2013
Political prisoner Gerry McGeough has been released from Maghaberry Prison after serving two years of his sentence for his part in an IRA action more than 30 years ago.
The former Sinn Fein Ard Chomhairle member was arrested in 2007 at an election count centre after he stood for election to the Stormont Assembly as an independent republican. He was handed a 20-year sentence in 2011.
Although suffering from ill-health, Mr McGeough took part in the dirty protest by non-conforming prisoners at the jail, and a global campaign was fought by republican and human rights activists to win his freedom.
Under the terms of the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, McGeough qualified to apply for early release after serving a minimum of two years. However, there had been concerns that the veteran republican might not be released.
Former publicity director of the Irish Northern Aid Committee Martin Galvin, joined Mr McGeough as he was freed and will address a function tonight in Dungannon to welcome him home.
He said: “Gerry McGeough is seen by many nationalists as a victim of British injustice.
“The British soldiers who shot dead 14 unarmed civilians on Bloody Sunday have never been charged yet the Crown showed no hesitation in moving against this respected republican on decades-old charges.”
Posted by Jim on January 27, 2013