Twenty five years of cover-ups
By Mary Nelis
A reporter contacted me last week regarding Bloody Sunday.
She wanted to know how the people of Derry would respond if
the British government apologised. Would that be enough for
the people to lay to rest the ghost of Bloody Sunday, to
really bury our dead, once and for all?
People who don't live in Derry or who have never been here,
ask questions like that. They haven't seen the blood flowing
in the street, they haven't smelt the fear. They haven't
witnessed the raw courage of those crawling along the ground
to the aid of the wounded and dying. They haven't tasted the
silence which hung over this city for three whole days, and
they do not understand that Bloody Sunday was not just about
the murder of innocent people. Nor was it just about killing
off the Civil Rights Movement by shooting the masses on the
street.
Bloody Sunday was more than that. It was about testing the
theory that in the interests of national security the state
could murder anyone and cover it up.
It was a while before the people of Derry realised that the
Bloody Sunday cover-up was but a fine tuning for the
cover-ups to come, for Bloody Sunday was a declaration of
war by the British government on us, the nationalist
community, in the last remnants of its Empire.
It was a while before we understood the implications of that
terrible day, for we had to bury our dead and we had to
mourn. We mourned the loss of fathers, husbands, sons and
friends and we mourned the loss of our innocence.
It was also a while before we saw clearly that the cover-up
of mass murder and the part played in that murder by the
British government of the day, was planned in advance. For
it is only in recent years that evidence has emerged which
shows that the success of the cover-up hinged on a ``first
strike'' PR operation by senior British Army personnel. The
dead had to be robbed of their reputations. They were not
human beings, they were nail bombers and gunmen.
By the time the Widgery Tribunal began, we knew that this
British Lord would preside over the greatest cover-up in the
long and bloody history of British involvement in Ireland.
And some of us knew that this would be the shape of things
to come.
By the time the first anniversary of Bloody Sunday came
around, the British government was already engaged in
intimidation and terrorisation of the working class
communities in the nationalist areas of the North, and
another Lord - Diplock - was preparing the way for the
cover-up of torture in the RUC interrogation centres.
The years after Bloody Sunday were one of the darkest
periods in the North's history. Those were the years of the
Shankill Butchers, the Dublin, Monaghan bombings, the
psy-ops operations. Those were the years of pain and
isolation for the relatives of Bloody Sunday.
But by the 10th anniversary the tide was beginning to turn
against the British and cracks began to appear in their
elaborate cover-up operation. The death squads operations
during 1982-85 when thirty five people were murdered, twenty
three of them in undercover operations, again focused
attention on state killings in the name of national
security.
International pressure forced the British government to set
up yet another enquiry.
It began much the same as Widgery, as a vehicle by the
British for the cover-up of death squad operations but ended
in disaster for Sampson, who became the victim of an
elaborate RUC cover-up of his investigations.
The then Attorney General, ``cheer up'' Paddy Mayhew,
announced that there would be no prosecutions of the RUC men
involved on the grounds of national security. The wheel had
come full circle from Bloody Sunday. National security,
enquiries, the Official Secrets Act, the whole cult of
secrecy and cover-ups of Britain's dirty war, were now
exposed for the world to see.
The 20th anniversary of Bloody Sunday saw 30,000 people
march through the rain-soaked streets of Derry still
demanding justice for the dead, and the truth for the
living. The rainbow which stretched across the skies of
Derry, the skies which wept on the day we buried our dead,
became a symbol for hope and for peace, and a message to the
British soldiers looking down from Derry Walls. There would
be no more Bloody Sundays, no more cover-ups.
The truth, which the relatives have demanded for the last 25
years, will out and it will set us all free.
``The gentle rainfall drifting down, over Colmcille's town,
could not refresh, only distil, the silent grief from hill
to hill''. Thomas Kinsella - Butcher's Dozen.
We still grieve.