Republican News · Thursday 16 December 1999

[An Phoblacht]

Thirty years of revolutionary schooling

 
Gerry Hanratty was born and reared in Andersonstown, West Belfast. A child of the conflict, he was first arrested in 1975. He has since been imprisoned in Ireland north and south, in Germany and in Britain. Currently the OC of the republican prisoners in Portlaoise, he discusses with An Phoblacht's Roisín De Rosa his years of republican activity and the lessons republicans have learned along the way, particularly from the various prison struggles.


Gerry is pictured relaxing on a recent parole with his son Cían

``It was through the Hunger Strike that we learned our strength, that we can do this, and the strength gave us the confidence to negotiate, develop additional ways of struggle, without any fear of compromise. We learned this, the political skills we need to win, through the jails.

``It started with the barricade in Shores Road and the parish priest begging the people to take it down, and they wouldn't. The British army occupied the school, St. Joseph's College, for a barracks.'' This was where Gerry Hanratty's education started.

``I was ten years old, playing over the backs of the armoured cars, tanks. Guns, soldiers, everywhere on the streets. Friends and families, driven out of Ardoyne, sought refuge in Andersonstown. Our house was coming down with kids.''


There were some horrific attacks in Crumlin Road Jail. Legs broken, someone's ear bitten off. I remember Jim Gibney running round the canteen, with darts sticking out of his back.
 
Gerry was out on his paper round in 1971 on the morning internment began. ``I never got my run done. I was just handing out papers to the people who were out on the street, people who'd been woken in the 4am round-up.''

``It was riots every day, collecting bricks, bottles, supplies of vinegar. Seamus Simpson, I saw him shot. It was on the Rosnareen Road. He was wounded. The soldiers dragged him across the street, knee deep with the glass of rioting. They dumped him behind a Saracen to die. A Para was shot on the corner of our street. The Brits went berserk, raiding all the houses, tearing them apart, CS gas everywhere. It touched everyone, every house.''

Gerry joined the Fianna in Andersonstown. ``Terry McDermott, just 19 years old, to us just one of the bigger lads, who lived opposite our house, was shot. His funeral was attacked, the mourners battered, and then the RUC attacked the funeral mass in the Chapel, St. Agnes', with rubber bullets through the windows. I saw all this, the rioting, the arrests, the marches, the funerals. It was a time of sorties all day, back for tea and sandwiches, then out again.''

Gerry was arrested for the first time in 1975. He landed into Crumlin Road. ``On Boxing Day the segregation battle started. They started integrating republicans and loyalists in C3. They called out three of us to the canteen, where there were a dozen or so loyalists, who set upon us. Bobby Sands, Frankie Hughes, Kieran Doherty, all of them were here, in C3. It went on day by day for over two months. It was just scary. The Prison Service was blatantly, openly, Orangey. We were Fenian scum. There were some horrific attacks. Legs broken, someone's ear bitten off. I remember Jim Gibney running round the canteen, with darts sticking out of his back.''

 
The whole history of the jails has been a process of learning. Thirty years of struggle have given us, and the people, the confidence to have no fear of developing another way.
Gerry was released in 1977 and was rearrested five years later, after the hunger strike. I remember when Carol Ann Kelly was shot dead in Cherry Estate. I saw it, right in front of me. The anger in Twinbrook. The IRA had to stop the women burning down the school where the Brits were sheltering, and the soldier, just a wee lad, who had shot her, breaking down at what he'd done. The tears were coming down his face as his mates tried to pull him back.

``The hunger strike was a turning point. It was a time when people said to themselves `We can do this'. Through the 30,000 people who voted for Bobby Sands, we became aware of our strength. It was through the hunger strike that we learned that the people on the ground had the ability to change things, to change the state.

``The hunger strike was not just the five demands, it was a direct, political attack, a direct action against British rule. I came to see that the whole struggle was political struggle. Just as the escape was a direct political action against the British government. We learned our own strength. After the hunger strike we knew they weren't going to break us. It gave us the confidence to adapt our ways to win.

``I remember Bernadette McAliskey saying during the H Block struggle - `Republicans are expert at struggle, resistance; when are we going to become experts in winning?' - It stuck in my mind. We began learning how to be expert at winning.''

Gerry went to B wing in Long Kesh just five months before the H Block escape of 1983: ``It's looking back that I saw what we were doing, the gradual conditioning process of the screws. Prison work? We'll work. What to an outsider might have appeared as capitulation after the hunger strike, but which, very slowly, gave us increasing freedom to move about the jail, and laid the conditions that made the escape possible. Escape from the most secure prison in Europe. It was a model for the Peace Process. There are many different ways to skin a cat.

``There were 22 of us on B wing, H7, that morning before the escape. There were 11 of us left in the evening. It was a slaughtering match after.''

Released in 1986, Gerry was arrested in 1988 with Gerry McGeough on the Dutch-German border on suspicion of killing four British soldiers. They were held in total isolation, didn't even meet each other. No papers, no shop, no radio, no news. After six months, Gerry went to Kaisheim prison in the Bavarian foothills, beside the great Danube. One hour a day exercise, handcuffed behind his back, was the only time he spent out of a bare, white cell. Isolation. It was an old cloister - a Colditz on a rock, but in a special high tech unit built for the PLO after the Munich Olympic Games. Just seven cells, with cameras everywhere. It was two years solitary, in an attempt to break you.

``It was an officer state. Everything you wanted had to go through to the central system up to the investigating judge in Karlsrühe. If the screws had a piece of paper that said I could have a Rolls Royce, they'd give it to me without a thought. If it said I could not have a biro I didn't get it.''

d then they had Gerry in for a week of questioning, eight to ten hours a day. ``But they didn't question me once about the shooting, or bombs. They wanted to know the mindset of the republicans. The questioning was handled by a special unit, TE14, whose dedicated role was to specialise in Irish republicanism.

``The trial, a process of investigation, went on for two years. The head of the TE14 came into the trial. He gave lengthy testimony about the IRA which was a `military organisation which was fighting for a political goal'. He gave an account of the struggle, a journey through republican history, of the famine, of the struggle of Irish nationalists and his account formed part of the final summing up of the case, which itself took three days. The words `terrorist', `criminal' and so on, were never mentioned.

``Detective Inspector McClure from the RUC was brought over to give evidence as an expert. `You know this man?' `Yes.' Have you ever met him?' `No.' `Do you know his family?' `No.' `You know him to be a member of the IRA?' `Yes.' `How do you know?' `I was told.' `By whom were you told?' `That's confidential.' `There is nothing confidential in my court.' `Are you expecting me to believe that you knew him to be in the IRA on the basis of what someone told you, a person who you don't even know, whom you never spoke to?'''

The Court ruled that McClure's evidence could not be treated as that of an expert. McClure was used to Diplock courts. A German process, for him, was a rude awakening.

``The President of the court said over dinner to defence lawyers, `It's of no political significance whatsoever to me how many British soldiers he killed, but if he's convicted of killing a German policeman, then he'll get life'.''

Gerry was sentenced to two and a half years. After three months waiting in Dusseldorf, he was packed onto a Hercules Transport plane and send back to Aldergrove and the Crumlin Road again. The British were again attempting integration. There were some horrendous attacks, and many serious injuries. After six months, Gerry got eight years and went to the H Blocks.

``It was coming up to the first ceasefire. The blocks were a ferment of political discussion and of education, formal and informal. Everything was under discussion - socialism, capitalism, armed struggle, women's struggle, the role of prisoners, the hunger strike, everything - working to develop ways to get to our political end, through the gradual realisation of what we're capable of doing.''

Gerry was released and then rearrested in London during the breakdown of the first ceasefire. ``We had no alternative. Major refused to have the balls to move. I regret for everyone that there was no alternative, for all who have suffered, that there wasn't another way. I wish of course that there had been. This is the lesson that the British government has to learn out of the 30 years of conflict.

Gerry has been OC in Portlaoise jail since his repatriation from England. ``The whole history of the jails has been a process of learning. Thirty years of struggle have given us, and the people, the confidence to have no fear of developing another way. The OCs who had to negotiate with the governors over food, or flip flops or whatever - these were the skills we developed - that came out of the situation, that have the potential to offer an alternative where the British hadn't the courage. I regret that they didn't over these 25 years, and what that has meant for all of us.

``It was a learning curve from awareness of our own strength, which we realised through the hunger strike, and through 30 years in the struggle. Learning to use the skills which the struggle taught us. Learning to become `expert at winning'.''

It's a long way since the British army took over the education department at St. Joseph's School, in Andersonstown.


Contents Page for this Issue
Reply to: Republican News