Anthony McIntyre
senses a general republican indifference to recent arrests of prominent Saoradh members. 

The arrests of a number of Saoradh activists alleged by British police to be senior figures in the New IRA, as it is frequently described, has prompted a flurry of media commentary and speculation. For the news hounds it is a big story. With the New IRA not doing very much, what is supposedly being done to the New IRA makes the headlines.

Some of Saoradh’s republican rivals are said to be gloating. Those of us who have spent considerable time behind bars avoid that, even if we have little fraternal feeling for Saoradh. There are enough imbibing the sweet juices of Schadenfreude, without ex-prisoners sticking their straw in as well. While gloating has a presence, it seems indifference is the foremost sentiment circulating within republican circles. 

I don’t much follow the internal machinations of that fractious world, tending to see its incessant bickering, backbiting and jockeying for pole position much as Kissinger did when observing the politics of the university scene: they are “vicious precisely because the stakes are so small.”

Consequently, I didn’t feel in much of a position to comment when a couple of journalists contacted me, more or less restricting myself to saying that I had next to no interest in Saoradh or the New IRA and that my understanding of either was rudimentary. My curiosity was so stifled that when the arrests were first announced I had no great desire to find out who had been gripped. My response was the same as it would have been had news broken that a lot of clergyman had been arrested, accused of blocking a motorway in opposition to abortion or same sex marriage. The story might be interesting in itself but wondering who might be caught up in it all was absent. So, no point in feigning to journalists an interest that does not exist for the purpose of waxing learned. These things only grab my focus if the arrested are personal friends of mine, as on previous occasions they have been.

What concentrated my mind was the issue of agent involvement. I didn’t know Denis McFadden, but the informed speculation was that he had been a friend of a friend, since deceased. Not just a friend but a great friend. I didn’t see it as a reflection on the late Tony Catney, but that more than anything else drew me to the story.

The British police, back in the day when there was a serious IRA fighting a determined guerrilla war against the state, made use of informers as a counter-insurgency tactic. They invariably brought with them controversy and at one point seriously damaged the reputation of the Northern judiciary as it summersaulted from guilty to not guilty verdicts in the era of the supergrass. Probably the Beaks' worst judicial hour in a clatter of bad ones to choose from. 

Informers are invariably the most unreliable of witnesses. All too often they have with handler approval been up to their necks in the very activity the state likes to claim they have been instrumental in curbing – think Stakeknife and Mark Haddock. Self-serving accomplices, informers have every reason to cover their tracks with the scent of others. The state attempt to tart them up as having undergone some ethical conversion is simply shining a turd.

A species despised the world over because of what debased motives are attributed to them, the image of Gypo Nolan’s monetary reward being disdainfully pushed across a table to him at the end of a stick in the movie The Informer is indicative of even the handler attitude towards the type. The damning line from Louis Borge’s poem The Spy, I betrayed those who believed me their friend, perhaps captures better than most the reason they are held in such low esteem. Perhaps as a result of an evolutionary biological trait towards cooperation for purposes of survival, the stench of betrayal instinctively causes the nostrils to flare in revulsion towards the alien presence. 

For all of that, as reviled as informers are, virtually every agency across the board from states to guerrillas use them. The commodity is secrecy and the marketplace for that particular piece of hardware is densely populated by buyers and sellers. The very term industrial espionage shows its more widespread application.  Spying is not called the second oldest profession because it is a relatively new phenomenon. The IRA too made use of informers in the past – the late prison officer, John Hanna, for example. So when republicans howl about them it is only because of whose ox has been gored. If a player in any game gives the opposition a penalty kick, their adversary would be a fool not to take it.

Colleagues and friends of the arrested will exhibit a sense of entitlement, demanding that all republicans stand shoulder to shoulder with those behind bars. Outside of lip service that is unlikely to happen. Few will give any credence to the charge that it is a state attempt to close Saoradh down, feeling that Saoradh pose as much threat to the state as St Vincent de Paul. If they don't say it openly they seem willing to state privately that the arrests are the inevitable outcome, not of radical politics but of traditional militarism.  Most, while feeling aggrieved that MI5 and informers still figure on the landscape - courtesy of the parliamentarization of the Provisionals - will probably leave the arrested to their fate, feeling that energy is better invested elsewhere rather than in pushing the Sisyphean stone uphill only to have it roll back down again ad infinitum

Heroes on horseback, to cite Marx, rarely change society and seem unfailingly willing to place their faith in those ready to change horse.

⏩Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre

Second Oldest Profession

Anthony McIntyre
senses a general republican indifference to recent arrests of prominent Saoradh members. 

The arrests of a number of Saoradh activists alleged by British police to be senior figures in the New IRA, as it is frequently described, has prompted a flurry of media commentary and speculation. For the news hounds it is a big story. With the New IRA not doing very much, what is supposedly being done to the New IRA makes the headlines.

Some of Saoradh’s republican rivals are said to be gloating. Those of us who have spent considerable time behind bars avoid that, even if we have little fraternal feeling for Saoradh. There are enough imbibing the sweet juices of Schadenfreude, without ex-prisoners sticking their straw in as well. While gloating has a presence, it seems indifference is the foremost sentiment circulating within republican circles. 

I don’t much follow the internal machinations of that fractious world, tending to see its incessant bickering, backbiting and jockeying for pole position much as Kissinger did when observing the politics of the university scene: they are “vicious precisely because the stakes are so small.”

Consequently, I didn’t feel in much of a position to comment when a couple of journalists contacted me, more or less restricting myself to saying that I had next to no interest in Saoradh or the New IRA and that my understanding of either was rudimentary. My curiosity was so stifled that when the arrests were first announced I had no great desire to find out who had been gripped. My response was the same as it would have been had news broken that a lot of clergyman had been arrested, accused of blocking a motorway in opposition to abortion or same sex marriage. The story might be interesting in itself but wondering who might be caught up in it all was absent. So, no point in feigning to journalists an interest that does not exist for the purpose of waxing learned. These things only grab my focus if the arrested are personal friends of mine, as on previous occasions they have been.

What concentrated my mind was the issue of agent involvement. I didn’t know Denis McFadden, but the informed speculation was that he had been a friend of a friend, since deceased. Not just a friend but a great friend. I didn’t see it as a reflection on the late Tony Catney, but that more than anything else drew me to the story.

The British police, back in the day when there was a serious IRA fighting a determined guerrilla war against the state, made use of informers as a counter-insurgency tactic. They invariably brought with them controversy and at one point seriously damaged the reputation of the Northern judiciary as it summersaulted from guilty to not guilty verdicts in the era of the supergrass. Probably the Beaks' worst judicial hour in a clatter of bad ones to choose from. 

Informers are invariably the most unreliable of witnesses. All too often they have with handler approval been up to their necks in the very activity the state likes to claim they have been instrumental in curbing – think Stakeknife and Mark Haddock. Self-serving accomplices, informers have every reason to cover their tracks with the scent of others. The state attempt to tart them up as having undergone some ethical conversion is simply shining a turd.

A species despised the world over because of what debased motives are attributed to them, the image of Gypo Nolan’s monetary reward being disdainfully pushed across a table to him at the end of a stick in the movie The Informer is indicative of even the handler attitude towards the type. The damning line from Louis Borge’s poem The Spy, I betrayed those who believed me their friend, perhaps captures better than most the reason they are held in such low esteem. Perhaps as a result of an evolutionary biological trait towards cooperation for purposes of survival, the stench of betrayal instinctively causes the nostrils to flare in revulsion towards the alien presence. 

For all of that, as reviled as informers are, virtually every agency across the board from states to guerrillas use them. The commodity is secrecy and the marketplace for that particular piece of hardware is densely populated by buyers and sellers. The very term industrial espionage shows its more widespread application.  Spying is not called the second oldest profession because it is a relatively new phenomenon. The IRA too made use of informers in the past – the late prison officer, John Hanna, for example. So when republicans howl about them it is only because of whose ox has been gored. If a player in any game gives the opposition a penalty kick, their adversary would be a fool not to take it.

Colleagues and friends of the arrested will exhibit a sense of entitlement, demanding that all republicans stand shoulder to shoulder with those behind bars. Outside of lip service that is unlikely to happen. Few will give any credence to the charge that it is a state attempt to close Saoradh down, feeling that Saoradh pose as much threat to the state as St Vincent de Paul. If they don't say it openly they seem willing to state privately that the arrests are the inevitable outcome, not of radical politics but of traditional militarism.  Most, while feeling aggrieved that MI5 and informers still figure on the landscape - courtesy of the parliamentarization of the Provisionals - will probably leave the arrested to their fate, feeling that energy is better invested elsewhere rather than in pushing the Sisyphean stone uphill only to have it roll back down again ad infinitum

Heroes on horseback, to cite Marx, rarely change society and seem unfailingly willing to place their faith in those ready to change horse.

⏩Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre

1 comment:

  1. I’d highly doubt that any Republican would take satisfaction in any of this — most of them will know at least one of those lifted. A sickening blow for all concerned, to say nothing of the impact on their families.

    As for ‘McFadden’ (is that even his real name), I never liked him and thought him dodgy. Never knew him personally but I remember a while back, when there was a concerted effort to besmirch a top man from round here, who we both know, that he was up to his neck in it. I seen that dirtbag for the slippery thramp that he is but unfortunately some people don’t see the agenda until it’s too late. God forgive me but I hope he dies roaring.

    As for Republicanism, it would pain a man to think on the fecking state of it. Rest assured that Gypo McFadden and his ilk have helped steer it into the space it now occupies — distracted, rudderless and with no sense of political reality. If Republicanism is ever to come again, which is very much possible, then it needs to get real — the war is over and the IRA stood down.

    The Army is no longer needed. We need, instead, a popular struggle from below that holds as its object the independence of Ireland as a 32-county republic. People will support this, readily, if it can be properly presented. On speeding that presentation is where Republican struggle now lies — not in efforts to take on the mantle of the effectively disbanded Irish Republican Army (an effort that is particularly hard to excuse when many of those involved were party to disbanding the actual IRA).

    With all of that said, our thoughts must be with the victims of this dirtbag and of course they are entitled to Republican support. We can support them for what they are, political prisoners, without having to agree with their approach or their actions. All-in-all, the whole thing is just a tragedy. The only hope can be that if we do succeed in getting a United Ireland in the medium term that prisoner release is a component of the package. The thought of the sentences these people may be facing is horrifying, God love them all.

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