by Peter Taylor
The two Governments tried again, setting an ‘absolute’ deadline of 30 June for agreement on setting up the Executive, to be followed by the devolution of full powers to the new institutions. The date was not arbitrary. It was four days before the Portadown Orangemen’s march from Drumcree parish church on 4 July and a fortnight before powers were due to be devolved to the new Scottish and Welsh assemblies. The two Prime Ministers were anxious to get agreement before the anticipated Drumcree storm broke for the fifth time in five years and smashed everything. As the deadline approached, Tony Blair and Bertie Ahern flew to Belfast for the second time in two months to try to hammer out a compromise on decommissioning that would let Sinn Fein into the Executive without David Trimble losing face. Not all of the First Minister’s colleagues were convinced that their leader was prepared to stand firm. ‘My job’s to rugby tackle Mr Trimble if he walks down the corridor to sign anything,’ said one.17 The deadline, as with Good Friday, came and went. The following day, 1 July, after seventy-five meetings over fifty hours, Tony Blair emerged to make the tantalizing but unexplained declaration that there had been ‘seismic shifts in the political landscape of Northern Ireland’. It was assumed that Sinn Fein had given the Prime Minister some assurance on IRA decommissioning: not that it would happen before the establishment of the Executive but that it would take place at some agreed time afterwards. This, the two Governments hoped, would enable Trimble and Adams finally to ‘jump together’. ‘The entire civilized world will not understand if we cannot put this together and make it work,’ the Prime Minister said.18 Sinn Fein’s statement which had fuelled the Prime Minister’s optimism was significant but hardly ‘seismic’. It said:
… we believe that all of us, as participants acting in good faith, could succeed in persuading those with arms to decommission them in accordance with the Agreement. We agree that this should be in the manner set down by the Independent Commission on Decommissioning within the terms of the Good Friday Agreement.19
The key word was ‘could’. What was meant by ‘decommission’ was again not specified. The guarantees remained as elusive as ever.
Expectations that a deal had finally been done were raised by the arrival of General John de Chastelain’s long-awaited report which said that ‘the Sinn Fein statement offers promise that decommissioning by all paramilitary groups may now begin … and can be completed in the time prescribed by the Good Friday Agreement’.20 Following five days of intensive discussions, the British and Irish Governments issued a joint statement known as ‘The Way Forward’ that had been put to all the parties as a route ‘to establish an inclusive Executive and to decommission arms’. It also contained a ‘failsafe’ clause that said that if the commitments on decommissioning were not met, the Government would ‘automatically and with immediate effect’ suspend the Executive and the other institutions set up by the Good Friday Agreement.21 But expectations were dashed yet again when David Trimble and the UUP rejected ‘The Way Forward’. As far as Unionists were concerned, it put ‘government before guns’. Trimble knew that, had he accepted it, he would have been finished. His party would have eaten him alive. The rank and file were in no mood to compromise, convinced that the ‘Brits’ were following Sinn Fein’s agenda and that republicans were reaping all the benefits of the Agreement and suffering none of the pain. Unionists were in no mood to compromise when less than a fortnight before they had watched the Brighton bomber, Patrick Magee, walk free from the Maze prison.
By now Mo Mowlam had become the target of the UUP’s frustration and anger. They believed that she was too close to Sinn Fein and turning a ‘Nelsonian’ blind eye to the continuing violence as the IRA and the loyalist paramilitaries enforced their grip on their communities. The day Magee was released, Trimble called for the Secretary of State’s removal. He believed she had become an obstacle to peace. ‘One of the great difficulties we have had in implementing the Agreement has been the widespread lack of confidence in the community, particularly among Ulster Unionists, with regard to what the Secretary of State will do,’ he said.22 But Mo had no wish to go until she had finished the job. ‘I want to make sure I do everything I can to make the process work,’ she said, ‘and I hope I am allowed to stay long enough to do that. I haven’t had my fill of Northern Ireland.’23 Nevertheless, Tony Blair heard what Trimble said.
In September 1999, Unionist morale, already rock-bottom, was dealt a further blow when the independent Commission on policing under the chairmanship of Chris Patten, a former Northern Ireland Minister and last Governor of Hong Kong, published its report and recommendations. What became known as the Patten Report was as much a part of the Good Friday Agreement as decommissioning and every bit as emotive. Positions were as polarized on policing as they were on decommissioning: Sinn Fein wanted the RUC abolished; Unionists, whilst recognizing the need for reform, wanted it left largely untouched. The Report took unionists’ breath away. Patten advocated extensive reform that would change the face of policing in Northern Ireland for ever. Its 175 recommendations included:
• A new oath excluding any reference to the Queen.
• A new nineteen-member Policing Board with ten to be drawn proportionally from the new Northern Ireland Assembly members. This meant that Sinn Fein would be entitled to two seats.
• Neighbourhood policing teams. ‘Empowered to determine their own local priorities and set their own objectives.’ This meant that Sinn Fein and the loyalist paramilitary representatives would have considerable influence.
• Anti-terrorist legislation to be abolished when the security situation permitted.
• ‘Holding centres’ [i.e. interrogation centres] at Castlereagh, Gough (Armagh) and Strand Road (Londonderry) to be closed.
• An equal number of Protestants and Catholics to be drawn from the pool of candidates qualifying for selection.
But for unionists, the most offensive recommendation of all was the abolition of the name of the RUC which, in their eyes, was tantamount to the abolition of the force itself. For three decades they had regarded it as the bulwark against terrorism and seen over 300 of its officers give their lives in defence of Ulster. The Patten Report seemed shoddy thanks. The Royal Ulster Constabulary was to become The Northern Ireland Police Service. There were also recommendations that the new force should have ‘a new badge and symbols’ and that the Union Jack should no longer be flown on police stations. David Trimble called the Patten Report ‘a gratuitous insult’ but the Government expressed its determination to push ahead.24
In a last-ditch effort to try to solve the problem of decommissioning, Tony Blair finally persuaded Senator Mitchell to return to the province to see if he could work his magic again. Mitchell was less than overjoyed at the prospect: he was now happily back in America with his young wife and new baby, but, being a man of strong principle, he agreed. He would never have forgiven himself had the Good Friday Agreement collapsed and he had not done all in his power to save it. In September, Mitchell returned to Northern Ireland and began all over again. On 11 October, whilst the Senator was entering his second month closeted with the parties, Tony Blair reshuffled his Cabinet and Mo Mowlam was succeeded by Peter Mandelson as Northern Ireland Secretary. Unionists were jubilant. The appointment was controversial not only because ‘Mo’ had not wanted to go but because Mandelson had spent the previous ten months in the political wilderness having resigned from the Department of Trade and Industry following the storm over a loan (to buy a house in London’s fashionable Notting Hill) from a friend and former Treasury Minister, the controversial Labour millionaire Geoffrey Robinson.25 Northern Ireland was Mandelson’s political rehabilitation. He arrived in the province and made it clear that, if the Mitchell review failed, there was no ‘Plan B’.
The review lasted for two and a half months and concluded on 18 November 1999. The critical closing sessions were conducted head to head at the American Ambassador’s residence in London away from the distracting notebooks, microphones and cameras of the
media. Remarkably, Mitchell achieved the breakthrough. Sinn Fein were to enter the Executive and the IRA would issue a statement as soon as it did so. It was still not ‘guns before government’ but it was the best deal Tony Blair and David Trimble were likely to get. Both calculated, despite their previous adamantine positions, that the compromise was better than the collapse of the Agreement. On 27 November, the Ulster Unionist Council, the ruling body of the Ulster Unionist Party, endorsed the Mitchell compromise by 480 votes to 349, paving the way for the formation of the Executive and the devolution of powers to it within days.
At the stroke of midnight on 1 December 1999, power was at last devolved. The following day Bertie Ahern signed away Articles Two and Three of the Irish constitution and the new Northern Ireland Executive was finally formed, with Martin McGuinness as Minister for Education and his Sinn Fein colleague, Bairbre de Brun, as Minister for Health. It was, after the Good Friday Agreement, a second historic moment. Tony Blair returned to his favourite metaphor: ‘The hand of history is at last lifting the burden of terror and violence and shaping the future of the people of Northern Ireland.’ Bertie Ahem was slightly less poetic. ‘Every Irish person is entitled to feel a great sense of pride in what we have achieved to bring about a lasting peace.’26 One felt that, if it were true, they were right. But it was not over yet. As Sinn Fein took up its seats, the IRA issued the promised statement, saying that it had appointed a representative ‘to enter into discussions with the IICD’27
Trimble’s acceptance of the compromise was, however, conditional. If the IRA had not begun the process of actual decommissioning by the beginning of February 2000, two months after the formation of the Executive, he would resign. He had already written and lodged his letter of resignation as a guarantee. He knew by agreeing to the formation of the Executive without decommissioning, he was at the very extremity of the Unionist ledge, with dissident members of his own party already waiting to push him off. As the deadline approached, it looked increasingly likely that Trimble’s letter of resignation would have to be produced.
On 31 January 2000, the IICD reported on its discussions with the IRA’s representative, alleged to be the veteran Provisional leader Brian Keenan. The IICD’s Report did not give much cause for optimism. It said that although the IRA’s representative had given an assurance of the IRA’s ‘unequivocal support for the current political process’ and that there was ‘no threat’ to the process from the IRA, nevertheless ‘we have received no information from the IRA as to when decommissioning will start’.28 Five days later the IRA issued a statement that it had not entered into any agreement to decommission its arms. On Friday 11 February, there was chaos. Trimble was on the brink of resigning, which would have risked collapsing the whole peace process, and the IICD was hurriedly drafting a further statement to reflect last-minute developments from the IRA. Mandelson acted decisively and, in a blaze of controversy, suspended the Executive. Sinn Fein was livid, accusing the ‘Brits’ of playing the Unionists’ game. The contents of the IICD’s new Report were published that evening. What it said amazed most people, who wondered why, if the Secretary of State knew its contents, he had suspended the Executive and plunged the province into crisis again. For the first time, there were signs of genuine movement from the IRA.
The [IRA] representative indicated to us today the context in which the IRA will initiate a comprehensive process to put arms beyond use, in a manner as to ensure maximum public confidence [author’s emphasis]. The Commission believes that this commitment … holds out the real prospect of an agreement which would enable it to fulfil the substance of its mandate.29
But by the time its contents had been fully digested, it was too late. The Executive had been suspended. Perhaps Peter Mandelson, who was unlikely to have been taken by surprise by the IICD’s latest analysis, judged that even though it indicated progress, it was not enough to stave off Trimble’s resignation, and so gambled that after the furore had died down, the pieces could be picked up again.
Mandelson’s gamble paid off. After weeks of backstage manoeuvring, on 5 May 2000 the British and Irish Governments issued another Joint Statement. They moved the deadline for the implementation of all aspects of the Good Friday Agreement – which was an elliptical way of saying ‘decommissioning’ – to June 2001. On the understanding that the parties concerned would take the necessary steps to make that possible, they said the Executive would be restored on 22 May 2000. However, they stressed that the paramilitaries must ‘urgently state clearly that they would put their arms completely and verifiably beyond use’. If this happened, the British Government would take ‘further substantial normalization measures by June 2001’.30 Although it was not specified as such, this was coded language for further troop reductions and the removal of more security force bases in what the ‘Brits’ called ‘normalization’ and the Provisionals called ‘demilitarization’. The Joint Statement was a series of nods and winks to both sides. The following day, 6 May, in a process of carefully agreed sequencing, the IRA issued a statement saying that it would ‘completely and verifiably’ put IRA arms ‘beyond use’.31 On this basis, on 27 May David Trimble secured the backing of his party to re-enter the Executive despite no practical evidence of decommissioning. But he had been assured that things were about to happen. A fortnight earlier, the former Finnish President, Martti Ahtisaari, and the former Secretary General of the ANC, Cyril Ramaphosa, had been appointed as independent weapons inspectors. Just over a month later, they were taken secretly by the IRA to ‘a number’ of arms dumps (probably no more than two), almost certainly in the Irish Republic, which they inspected. In their report to the IICD they said:
The arms dumps held a substantial amount of military material, including explosives and related equipment, as well as weapons and other materials. We observed that the weapons were safely and adequately stored. We have ensured that the weapons and explosives cannot be used without our detection. We are satisfied with the cooperation extended to us by the IRA to ensure a credible and verifiable inspection. All our requests were satisfactorily met.32
At last real progress seemed to be being made. But it was not enough for those in the UUP who wanted to see Trimble fall, believing that he had been hoodwinked by both the ‘Brits’ and the IRA and was leading Ulster to disaster whilst dancing to the Provisionals’ tune. He had already survived one challenge to his leadership by his Westminster colleague, the Reverend Martin Smyth, on 23 March 2000. Trimble won by 57 per cent to 43 per cent. Now others were waiting in the wings. On the security front, there was blood-letting on the loyalist Shankill Road as a long-simmering feud between the UDA/UFF and the UVF erupted in violence and death. The instigator of it was generally assumed to be Johnny Adair, who had been released earlier under the terms of the Good Friday Agreement. Peter Mandelson acted swiftly, revoked Adair’s licence, had him arrested and returned to gaol. ‘The legislation enables me to act on the basis of my belief that he has or is about to commission acts of terrorism,’ he said. ‘I received a pretty strong case, very full information from the RUC and I acted on that. He has been pursuing and associating himself very directly with acts of violence.’33 It was also a warning to all loyalist and republican prisoners who had been released on licence. If they returned to violence, they could be returned to gaol. Mandelson also extended an olive branch to the UDA/UFF’s political party, the UDP, who had no representation in the Assembly, which was no doubt part of the frustration in that particular loyalist camp. ‘I do what I can to compensate for that, to draw them into the political process all the time,’ the Secretary of State added. ‘They are people of good quality and integrity.’34
The violence on the Shankill Road added fuel to Trimble’s unionist opponents who charged that the Good Friday Agreement had not brought peace. The reckoning, they declared, was at hand. The test came shortly afterwards in the form of the South Antrim by-election on 21 September 2000. South Antrim was a UUP stronghold and the party’s second safest seat. If it lost
there, no seat was safe as the next General Election approached. The result was a shock. The UUP candidate lost by 850 votes to its deadly rival, Ian Paisley’s DUP. Although the margin was small, the implications of the defeat were momentous. Trimble’s opponents within his own party now smelled blood. It was only a matter of time, they calculated, before they could strike the killer blow. The First Minister, on whose shoulders the Agreement survived or fell, was urged by the ‘Brits’ to stand firm. He was their champion, the linch-pin of the settlement they had striven for the best part of thirty years to achieve.
At his party’s annual conference on 7 October 2000, Trimble came out fighting. ‘Stop undermining the party. Stop undermining the leadership of the party,’ he said with rare passion. ‘Will we sleep any sounder in our beds if we are seen to ditch this Agreement? Will there be decommissioning? Will the Union be guaranteed? No, no and no again!’35 He was cheered and booed in almost equal measure, his party irrevocably split. If David Trimble (and therefore the Agreement) were to survive, he needed two things to retain credibility and power: the British Government had to make concessions on the Patten Report and retain some of the symbols scheduled for destruction, not least the name of the RUC itself; and the IRA had to decommission in earnest to meet the new deadline of June 2001 set by the ‘Brits’.
