Voices from the Grave: Two Men's War in Ireland

by Ed Moloney

  We began to have debates. At this time the biggest issue was the Middle East conflict … the Israeli and the Palestinian situation and you actually had people like Cleaky Clarke|||| advocating the Israeli position, a Zionist position at this period. That was the level of debate that was going on, the level of intellectual awareness … there wasn’t a great deal of it. Certainly in Cage 10 there was absolutely none. Actually in one period, in 1974, all the Marxist books were burnt in Cage 10 and James Connolly was thrown at the top of the pile. All communist material was burnt, and it happened in Cage 10 … Morley had so much control over these people that I used to joke about the Morley pill. You had guys who you thought were politically astute and aware who all of a sudden would go along with the Morley line. Perhaps it was something to do with [being in] prison. Morley was telling people that if they behaved it wouldn’t be long till they were out of prison. Now he was getting this, obviously, from the outside and … he was pushing the line that the war was over, that everybody would be released. We were pushing the line that the war was not over. The British were trying what they had done in 1972, to get us involved in a long-drawn-out ceasefire. A long-drawn-out ceasefire destroys an army, and we were pushing that line that the leadership was wrong.

  Adams’s point of view, all the time, was that we must turn out a politically active, politically educated rank and file. That was the key phrase, a politically educated rank and file so that control is taken off the leadership [and put] into the hands of the fighting men … Gerry was constantly pushing [the need for] an educated rank and file, that the reason why we’re in the position that we were in, being involved in sectarian killings, was because the IRA was leadership-led and the Volunteers were not politically educated. The whole emphasis from 1976 on … was to bring about a situation where you had such people being released from the prison to go back into the IRA. That was the aim and objective of all …

  The election was held; Ivor was put up as a candidate for Camp O/C … Ivor had won the election for O/C of Cage 9. They’d done a pretty good job down there in Cage 9 and that made him eligible to stand for Camp O/C … And I can’t remember the exact result but Ivor lost … everybody had a right to vote – all Volunteers had a right to vote [but] suspended Volunteers were not allowed to vote. So up until the election, people were getting suspended for silly things … anything they could do to sabotage our campaign they did. People were suspended; they pulled me in and threatened me with court martial; people like Gerry Kelly and Hugh Feeney were suspended for canvassing on behalf of Ivor. Gerry and Hugh were in the same cage as Ivor. Threats of court martial were made; anybody caught undermining the leadership would be immediately court-martialled and would lose their status as Volunteers. Every other day men were ordered [to] parade: ‘Parad anois’; ‘Everybody out.’ All but the suspended men lined up in the big hut and we had to suffer the humiliation of these statements being read out to us. And one that I can remember most clearly was a communication from the Commander of Republican Prisoners, Long Kesh, which said: ‘This group of conspirators, the niggers in the woodpile, the anti-IRA people in this camp will not be tolerated. This conspiracy will be crushed.’ Statements like that and we would be standing there biting our lips. But while the election [result] did have a slight demoralising effect … what gave me great inspiration was … that people were beginning to listen, people like Bik McFarlane. Gerry was absolutely good in organising Cage 11. Not so much openly, but going round talking to … people like Bobby [Sands], Jim Gibney, not Jim Gibney that’s the Sinn Fein face now, but the other wee Jim Gibney from Short Strand. But the more this went on, the more debate took place and we would organise major debates in Cage 11 …

  … by that time I was I/O of Cage 11. We had lectures; we were … debating the whole situation and people were beginning to listen. And I used to dander in to what we called the ‘intellectual hut’, the end hut. You had … people like Bobby, like Rooney, a bunch of other guys who were studying, learning Irish, reading books. And then you had the other crowd like the Big Juice McMullans and the Big Cleakys … who just wanted to do their time and do it as well as they could. There was a gap between those two types that began to break down. As discussions took place … the barriers began to fall, certainly in Cage 11. It had already happened in Cage 9 under Ivor and Martin McAllister.*** And we began to have debates about what was happening on the outside, about the sectarianism, about the 1972 truce, and international politics. Gerry used to do a lot of these debates, and he was impressive … the type of person he is, he could walk into the so-called intellectual hut and sit down with the people there and debate with them. People like Gerry Rooney and Bobby Sands would have opposed myself and Gerry; we were saying that what was going on was a ploy by the British to get us involved in a long-drawn-out ceasefire. But he began to impress them.

  I was also into giving lectures and … talks and having debate about the political situation, how it had gone wrong on the outside; how we [had] allowed people to get into positions of power and allowed the leadership to dictate where we were going and what tactics were allowed, with men not being allowed to think for themselves. What we were trying to do was to bring about a situation in which Volunteers could think for themselves and could work themselves into leadership level.

  Well, by late 1976/1977 the situation had developed and there was growing opposition to the Morley regime, to the ceasefire. It had largely built up in Cage 9 and Cage 11. And people began transferring out of Cage 12 and Cage 10 into Cage 9 and Cage 11 … So Cage 9 and Cage 11 became the focus of opposition to the Morley regime … and to the leadership outside. We intensified the lectures and training in those two cages to the extent that special internal camps were set up. For a whole weekend, eight or nine men would go into the half-hut – usually in Cage 9 – and stay there for the whole weekend, studying, training, debating, weapons training, explosives training, all taking place over the weekend. They would move out on the Monday and another six or seven men would move into the half-hut again. There was a lot of concentration on explaining the cell system that would come in … that the old Brigade, Battalion, Company structure was not going to survive [and] a different structure would take their place.

  Weapons training was sometimes very realistic and the authorities were not beyond exaggerating this to strengthen the case that special-category status served only to validate the IRA’s authority over the inmates. This was when Long Kesh began to be described in briefings to the media as the ‘University of Terror’, the implication being that a normal, criminal-type regime would change this for the better. At one point, following the discovery of a realistic mortar in 1976, Cage 11 was briefly closed down and the inmates moved elsewhere.

  … it actually wasn’t a mortar. There was an Armalite and an imitation mortar that we were using in lectures. Actually there’s a photograph of me giving one of the lectures, and I think there’s a photograph of the mortar [as well]. The mortar was so realistic-looking that the camp authorities believed it to be real and there was a panic and everybody was moved out and the cage was pulled apart. But it was excellent workmanship … but it was not a real mortar, it could never have fired.

  The divisions in the IRA’s ranks in Long Kesh deepened with time with Gerry Adams leading the assault, courtesy of the pseudonymous ‘Brownie’ articles in the Belfast Brigade’s weekly newspaper, Republican News.

  …as I say, the only avenue we had … was through the ‘Brownie’ articles. And if you read the ‘Brownie’ articles they had hidden messages in them which tried to explain exactly what was going on, that the British had tried this in 1972 and the ceasefire lasted only two weeks but this time the British were getting away with it. And I believe that the ‘Brownie’ articles were first to highlight the Ulsterisation, criminalisation, normalisation policies.

  The camp had practically split in two: you had the Morley camp and you had the Adams camp. Gerry and myself were, most of the time, in the same cubicle; at the start the
huts used to be just open but they were then converted into cubicles, two main cubicles. They weren’t cells; there were no doors, just curtains … And myself and Gerry would have had debates about what was going on outside the jail; about the cell system, about the leadership, about our opposition to the leadership. Gerry would, most nights, be writing the ‘Brownie’ articles for the paper … The ‘Brownie’ articles … weren’t allowed to go out unless they were passed over to Morley for censoring. And there were great arguments over that. Many a night or day Gerry would be called to the wire by Davy Morley and there would be arguments and disputes … between the two … There was no physical contact, but a lot of shouting at each other … There was a great deal of tension, a great deal of hostility. At that time Gerry was O/C of Cage 11. Morley was under instructions from the outside to censor anything … coming out of Cage 9 or Cage 11, especially Gerry’s articles. And Gerry was the most prolific writer at the time. And … by and large, he was seen as the person leading the criticism. And by and large he was.

  Up until that point of his release he was responsible for all the ‘Brownie’ articles … all the ‘Brownie’ articles were his. Then when he got released Hugh Feeney wrote under the ‘Salon’ byline.

  Q. Were the ‘Brownie’ articles a collective effort or were they simply the product of Gerry alone which he would then give out to others to assess, evaluate, etc.?

  A. No. They were totally his baby, totally Gerry’s baby. Every time he wrote one he would show it to me to read and to go over. Often we would have arguments … because most … times … I would just glance through it and he would say that he wanted [proper] feedback from me and … I really didn’t. Often I would have to read [the article] two or three times. But the ‘Brownie’ articles were aimed at the rank and file on the outside and to a large extent they were coded in such a way that they would get out [past Morley]. Some of them were just … very funny articles based [about] life within the camp … But the main aim of the Brownie articles was … to get the message out that … the war was going wrong and calling on people to re-involve themselves …

  Q. The point that I would raise is that in the book which you, yourself, are reading at the moment, on Gerry Adams: Man of War, Man of Peace?, by Mark Devenport and David Sharrock, Adams is quoted as denying that he was ‘Brownie’ and he has said that ‘Brownie’ was actually a number of authors. Although Devenport and Sharrock convincingly, compellingly refute that argument with decent evidence. I’m just wondering what you feel about that denial by Gerry.

  A. That’s a lie, I mean, I know what ‘Brownie’ means. And not many people know what ‘Brownie’ means. Do you know what it means? [It was a code] for making love [to his wife]; that’s right, that’s what it was. And it was purely his baby. Certainly, after Gerry got released, the ‘Brownie’ articles went out under different bylines – Joe Barnes was one who wrote some ‘Brownie’ articles … but during that whole period Gerry was exclusively Brownie.

  With the IRA Commanders in Long Kesh accusing the Cage 11 and Cage 9 rebels of fomenting a rebellion against the national leadership, Gerry Adams was careful not to give the Morley camp any more ammunition, displaying the great caution that has characterised his career in, and later leadership of, the IRA. Hughes and Ivor Bell wanted openly to involve other key players such as Martin McGuinness and Brian Keenan in their developing conspiracy, but Adams wouldn’t hear of it, insisting that they communicate only through the ‘army lines’, the authorised lines of authority which meant communications to other IRA figures had to go through Morley, who would read everything.

  … you couldn’t have a line to anybody outside the [recognised] structures. And that was a rule that we had to stick by, myself, Ivor and Gerry. And we did stick by it because if … someone had sent an unofficial comm. [communication] out and it was reported, then the person would be suspended. And I believe that happened to … Martin McAllister. Gerry was emphatic about this, that we had to stay within the Army [IRA] line, the same cliché. And they would have loved it if anybody had been caught. We were constantly warned about it. There was no direct line to Twomey, no direct line to anybody. There were communications coming in to us complaining about what was happening on the outside, mostly [sent] to Gerry, but he would not respond. If my memory serves me well, I think there was contact with Brian [Keenan] and I think that was because myself and Ivor were putting on the pressure. Gerry was adamant that we should not go outside the army line, always. Was he right to be cautious? Yes, because he realised that until we had some sort of hold on the reins of power in the camp, it would have sunk us all. We would have lost our ability to oppose them because they would have been in a position to court-martial us and then we would have no voice. Once you’re court-martialled and suspended – you didn’t even have to be court-martialled – once you were suspended you lost all your rights. So there was great caution over that.

  I do believe there was unofficial contact with Keenan; we didn’t collectively decide to do it but I believe it was Ivor. I remember Terry Crossan being pulled in and interrogated [about communicating to McGuinness]. Terry Crossan would have been trusted at that time. I don’t believe there was any written communication. That’s what saved the day, I believe, because … they had no proof, they [just] had Terry Crossan’s word against Gerry’s. And I don’t think it was enough to suspend or court-martial … it was a conversation and it was argued that there was no conspiracy taking place. There was, I think, an attempt to make contact on a friendly basis [with McGuinness] not on an official basis. McGuinness was seen as probably the one person on the outside who could make any … difference. He was held in high esteem by our group. Certainly he was one of the people who was always taken into consideration regarding the replacement of the leadership on the outside. McGuinness would have been seen as a potential ally, even a certain ally in this whole thing. I knew McGuinness reasonably well; Gerry knew him very well. But I don’t think there was a great relationship between McGuinness and Ivor.

  By the end of 1976 and the beginning of 1977, the Morley era in Long Kesh was drawing to a close. Morley himself was due for release at the start of 1977 and he stood down to become Adjutant to his replacement, Jim Scullion, a close ally. Gerry Adams was due for release in February 1977, and as his release date approached, he and Brendan Hughes plotted and planned the IRA’s future, both inside the jail and outside.

  … the last thing that Gerry and I did was to walk the yard [on] the day he was getting out … discussing what needed to happen inside the prison and outside the prison; the whole organisation, the whole movement on the outside needed to be reorganised. And the last words that Gerry said to me as he walked out the gate with his bag was that I was the lucky one staying behind; that he had a much, much harder job than me on the outside. So at that stage, obviously, Gerry was very confident that he was going to reorganise on the outside and my job would be to reorganise on the inside and that was a clear indication of intent. Gerry wasn’t going out to go to cross the border; he was going to go straight back into the movement and start reorganising. And that’s what … we’d been talking about from 1975 until 1977 when Gerry was released.

  … by that stage the movement on the outside was in disarray. Most of the operators were in jail. The British government had moved so heavily and closed down all the incident centres which had become the Army’s [the IRA’s] wee base of power. And it was quite obvious that [there was a chance] the whole struggle was going to be called off; I think the British actually expected this … I believe many of the leadership were quite happy to walk away because the whole thing had been brought to such disarray and such a mess … I believe there were people there in that leadership who would have been quite happy to hand over the reins because none of them were capable of taking the Army anywhere … so it was quite obvious that a new leadership would emerge.

  … by 1977 before Gerry got out, we knew that Sinn Fein and the Army [the IRA] needed to run in tandem. That was the intention,
that was the strategy, that was the policy, [creating] a politically educated rank and file, that politicisation had to take place on the outside and politicisation had to take place on the inside and there was going to be a massive reorganisation on the outside … there were people on the outside doing nothing except waiting on people like Gerry and Ivor getting out and perhaps myself as well. Except I would have had to escape. I wasn’t getting out for a long time. But when Gerry got released I saw myself fitting into that role, because it was quite obvious that once Gerry got out then the leadership in the prison was going to be changed.

  Within a week he contacted me and we had a direct line of communication. He hadn’t moved into any sort of leadership position but certainly it was only a matter of time. I can’t remember exactly how long it was but elections were due within the cage and I believe that Keenan was a main mover here, Twomey and Gerry and Keenan. Within a short period of time we got a request to send out nominations for the Camp O/C.

  It was actually seven or eight months before Adams moved to change the IRA regime in the prison, which Republicans still stubbornly called Long Kesh rather than the British name, the Maze. In a sign that the poacher was about to become gamekeeper, the method of choosing the Camp Commander was changed in a significant way. In the past an election would have to be held if there was more than one nomination for the job, meaning that candidates could also propagandise and make trouble among fellow prisoners; the Cage 11 rebels had used this procedure to advance and articulate their opposition to Billy McKee and his allies. But the change introduced after Adams rejoined the national leadership closed off this route to future rebels. Any prisoner could be nominated as Commander, to be sure, but from thereon the IRA leadership outside the prison would choose which of the nominees would get the job. Cage 11 and Cage 9 had been preached to about the need to democratise, to educate politically and empower the rank and file to curb an errant, arrogant leadership. But in this move could be seen a hand that relished the dictatorial powers that military leadership always brings. It was the IRA’s version of democratic centralism, the Army Council being the equivalent of the Soviet Politburo. By the end of 1977, courtesy of his friend and long-time comrade, Gerry Adams, Brendan Hughes was appointed Commander of the special-category prisoners in Long Kesh, those who had not yet been moved over to the new H-blocks and still represented the bulk of all IRA prisoners. This, as much as anything else, marked the beginning of the Adams era in the IRA.