The cynic would say that politicians always lie. But, led by the example of the current President of the United States, we are in an era of political leaders speaking astonishing untruths to a degree that I have never witnessed in six decades of watching politicians as a journalistic observer.
Gerry Adams is up there with the best (or worst) of them. A former IRA man and lifelong Sinn Fein member told journalist Aoife Moore for her 2023 book The Long Game: Inside Sinn Fein: “When he is confronted with any uncomfortable truth, his first instinct is to lie to everybody. That’s part and parcel of politics, but this guy has no qualms at all. And this guy has no conscience about stuff, he’s not troubled by anything.” One Sinn Fein staffer told Moore: “The thing about Gerry is he could look his dearest friend in the eye and lie.”
Adams’ whole life has been based on the lie that he was never in the IRA. Gerry Moriarty of the Irish Times, reporting on his victorious defamation trial against the BBC last week, recounted his renewed denials on the witness stand “that he was in the IRA or that for many years he served on its ruling Army Council. Whatever about south of the Border, there is hardly a person in Belfast, or indeed in Northern Ireland – or indeed any republican living on or off the Falls Road – who lends credence to that claim.
“For Sinn Fein and IRA supporters generally, they just shrug their shoulders and say that if Adams feels that his denial of IRA membership is something he must persist with, then so be it. ‘Gerry knows best’ tends to be the response of the faithful.”1
The most highly regarded chroniclers of the Northern Ireland ‘Troubles’, journalists and political scientists alike, all agree that Adams was both in the IRA and on its Army Council. Ed Moloney wrote in A Secret History of the IRA that he was one of the Army Council’s longest serving members in the mid-1990s and still on that body in the early 2000s. Patrick Radden Keefe in his brilliant book Say Nothing (later turned into a film) detailed his involvement in the IRA’s 1972 abduction and murder of the Belfast mother of ten, Jean McConville. Professor Richard English, in his book Armed Struggle: A History of the IRA, stated categorically that he was in that organisation, listing his ranks and the dates he held each position. Former IRA comrades Dolours Price and Brendan Hughes have recounted their experience of being led by Adams as their Belfast commander.
Yet last week a Dublin High Court jury found in his favour and against the BBC Spotlight programme for a 2016 allegation that he had authorised the killing of former Sinn Fein administrator and MI5 informer Denis Donaldson ten years earlier (the Real IRA had claimed responsibility for his killing). Adams is super-smart. He sensed that Spotlight was on weak ground with its single, anonymous source (a Special Branch informer) for that allegation and pounced, led by a high powered legal team that included Paul Tweed, defender of numerous celebrities in defamation cases. Spotlight journalist Jennifer O’Leary – an excellent investigative reporter – said she had five confirming sources, three of them security sources, but was not completely convincing.
Adams was helped by Dublin jury consisting mainly of people in their twenties, thirties and forties who had little or no memory of the horror of the ‘Troubles’. Journalists reported that members of the jury appeared “captivated” by Adams charisma, charm and sense of humour. He provoked laughter in the court and smiles from the jury when he said a photo showing him shouldering the coffin of an old republican while wearing the black beret associated with IRA membership made him look like the ineffectual Frank Spencer in the TV comedy ‘Some Mothers do ‘Ave’ ‘Em.
The judge, Mr Justice Alexander Owens, also helped his case by telling the jury that “all this guff is not evidence” as to whether or not Adams was a member of the IRA. He was dismissive of the BBC’s attempt to portray Adams as an IRA leader, emphasising that “a person’s reputation can change” and they should evaluate Adams’ reputation as of “2016 and now”. A strong part of his legal team’s strategy had been to present him as a peacemaker, as he undoubtedly was in the run-up to the Good Friday Agreement (although a peacemaker who continuously lied to his IRA grassroots to keep them on board the peace process, according to Ed Moloney).
More generally, this was another example of the increasing legitimisation and normalisation of 30 years of republican violence in Northern Ireland, and it was a bad day for investigative journalism where the IRA and Sinn Fein are concerned. Adams said he took the case “to put manners on the British Broadcasting Corporation” which he said “upholds the ethos of the British state in Ireland” (a ridiculous statement when put alongside investigations by programmes like Spotlight and Panorama of British security forces’ abuses in Northern Ireland). The former editor of the Belfast nationalist newspaper, the Irish News, Noel Doran, said: “There will be a chilling factor in newsrooms. People will be thinking very carefully about anything to do with Adams. There is a danger that a much more benign view of the Troubles becomes commonplace.”
That is happening anyway, much to Sinn Fein’s delight. Whether it is the ‘Oh, Ah, Up the Ra’ chant at rock concerts or the success of the republican rappers of the balaclava-clad Kneecap group (not helped by the British police’s absurd charge of terrorism against one of them for waving a Hezbollah flag at a concert), young people are ingesting a sanitised and romanticised view of the IRA and its killings of nearly 1800 people during the ‘Troubles’ (nearly five times more than the British Army, RUC and UDR combined).
It was left to SDLP MLA Matthew O’Toole to remember “the thousands of victims of the IRA, loyalists and the state who will never get a single day in court, let alone justice.”
As that fine Belfast journalist Sam McBride wrote in the Irish Independent: “To those who idolise Adams, such issues don’t register. They see only his sense of humour, his magnetism and his political achievements. Adams has never given any reason to believe that he saw the terror and the killings as immoral. Murder was a price worth playing for Irish freedom.”2
McBride wrote that Adams had told an English church magazine in 1996 that “he couldn’t get through life without being prayerful” and “I like the sense of there being a God.” Asked why he wouldn’t condemn violence, he gave a typically woolly answer: “I think these questions of morality are very difficult and vexed ones for all of us.” Before feeling understandably appalled by the sheer, bloody neck of the man, it’s worth contemplating that the IRA’s 1,800 killings pale into insignificance when compared to the hundreds of thousands of people slaughtered by so-called ‘Christian’ armies over the centuries.
1 ‘What does the libel victory mean for the former Sinn Fein president’s legacy?’, Irish Times, 31 May
2 ‘Adams is a man of huge ambition who had no moral qualms about securing his goals through murder’, Irish Independent, 31 May