Time to thank the unsung heroes of the peace process

MARTIN Mcguinness used to come to the Derry Journal office during my time as editor where we had many conversations.

One in particular I recall was whether the British Government would ever talk to republicans and I, with more than a little arrogance, told him “That’ll never happen”.

I remember Martin responding, “Don’t be so sure…”

This was in the 1980s with no end in sight to the conflict and the bitter legacy of the hunger strikes still poisoning much of the political discourse.

It was known as the era of “megaphone diplomacy” in that relationships between Dublin and London were severely strained.

The idea that people like Margaret Thatcher and John Major were reluctant to talk to Albert Reynolds or Garret Fitzgerald but would have their people talk to “terrorists” was unthinkable.

Boy, did I get that wrong.

Years later when I learned the British had been talking to republicans and, more specifically, himself, I challenged Martin on this.

He laughed and said: “If you had asked, ‘Are you talking to the Brits?’ you’d have got a different answer. You didn’t ask the right question.”

Fair enough.

Last week I bought a copy of Denis Bradley’s book, Peace Comes Dropping Slow.

The former vice-chair of the Policing Board and the co-chair of the Consultative Group on the Past tells of his role alongside Derry businessman Brendan Duddy and a Derry horse dealer and coalman, Noel Gallagher in what became known as “The back channel”.

This was the secret organisation which kept lines of communication open between the IRA and Whitehall.

Bradley explains that the idea came from, somewhat surprisingly, the then RUC chief in Derry Frank Lagan.

One of the few Catholics in a senior policing role in the 1970s, he did not hold with the prevailing analysis within the RUC that this outbreak of violence was the work of just a few criminals which could be contained by a crackdown by the authorities.

According to Bradley, he believed it was the “old tensions and unresolved divisions between the Anglo and Irish streams of history”.

For 30 years the back channel operated. Senior civil servants from British intelligence services, MI5 and later MI6 met with them regularly. Indeed, Bradley suggested one particular meeting between ‘Fred’ – real name Robert Mclarnon, of MI5 – at Martin Mcguinness’s mother’s home.

That rendezvous was said to be key to opening the door that was to lead eventually to the IRA ceasefire and the peace process.

I am not going to spoil Denis Bradley’s book sales by giving away too much more but suffice to say it’ll be pored over by journalists and historians trying to piece together an accurate account of the events of that time.

For me one story in the book stands out.

It was the role of Noel Gallagher who has stayed totally in the shadows for more than 40 years.

He’s the Clark Kent of the peace process.

A quiet little man who never looked for public recognition but was a superhero behind the scenes.

There are no photographs of him at big events and he could pass you on the streets unknown and unrecognised.

It is only right that Bradley reverses this and shines the spotlight on a man we all, probably, owe a considerable debt of gratitude to.

Pages 199 and 200 of the book tell a great tale what one “ordinary” person did for the greater good.

It’s only right Bradley shines a light on a man we all owe a debt to