northern ireland – War & Peace in Northern Ireland

June 2, 2023June 2, 2023

Life and Death in Divis Flats: The Enduring Symbolism of a 1960s Belfast Housing Project

The Troubles in Northern Ireland have an enduring iconography, even twenty-five years on from the signing of the Good Friday Agreement. This is partially to do with the long tradition of attaching social, political, and historical narratives to place that has been well-observed in the island of Ireland. Especially in the working-class areas of Belfast and (London)derry, one cannot go anywhere without coming across an area of significance to the Troubles (Feldman 436-437). As a result, specific neighborhoods and buildings have acquired a certain status in the public consciousness of the Troubles. One of the most notorious of these is Divis Flats, designed and built on the lower Falls Road in Belfast between 1966 and 1972 (Page 3). The flats would eventually consist of 12 interconnected eight story deck access blocks as well as one twenty-story tower, and had about 2,400 residents in 850 flats (Roy 1).

From the beginning, the flats were controversial, as part of a slum clearance project by the Northern Ireland government. The Pound Loney, the neighborhood torn down to make way for the flats, was known as a safe and close-knit community, with family and friends living close to each other, and many small pubs and shops. However, the Victorian-era housing often lacked amenities such as central heating or running water (Roy 19). Thus, when the Divis Flats housing project was announced, the reaction amongst the residents of the Pound Loney was decidedly mixed, with many choosing to accept a move to Divis in order to stay close to family and friends, despite their reservations about the buildings. This attitude can be seen in a quote from a man who had lived in the Pound Loney before moving to Divis Flats– “the Pound Loney is where I was born and where I will die even if the Brits change the name to Divis Flats; for Christ sake, they might as well have called it Long Kesh” (Dowler 102). The flats themselves were described as “Europe’s youngest slum” even before construction had been completed (Page 3).

The flats quickly gained a reputation for violence, with a British Army base built on the roof of Divis Tower in 1972. This observation post was used for surveillance of the flats themselves, as well as the greater Lower Falls Road (Page 13-14). Soldiers lived on the top two floors of Divis Tower, and supplies were transported by helicopter (Alfaro & Roulston 28). The military made use of the design of the flats to carry out regular searches of the inhabitants (Roy 33). Resistance among the population, and the high rates of membership of first, the IRA and PIRA, and later, the INLA, meant that it became colloquially known as the “planet of the Irps,” a slang term for the INLA’s associated political party, the IRSP (Roy 8-9). Death and injury due to paramilitary or military activity were relatively commonplace, including among children as young as nine or ten (Alfaro & Roulston 28; Roy 9).

In addition, there were several issues with the facilities of the flats, such as damp, mold, lack of laundry facilities, broken elevators, dirty stairwells, broken lights, overflowing rubbish chutes, the inability to supervise children, not enough play areas for the over-a-thousand children, broken railings, inability to stay warm, and more (Alfaro & Roulston 28-29; Roy 30-31, 33). Anger over living conditions led the residents to campaign for the demolition of the flats, which finally occurred in the summer of 1993, with only the tower (and the army base on top) remaining (Dowler 103; Roy 13-14). The army base itself stayed until 2005 (Page 21). Despite the fact that the flats are long-gone, they have endured as a symbol of the Troubles in the public consciousness, and still regularly feature in UK and Northern Ireland press relating to disappearances and murders from the time period.

Citations:

Dowler, Lorraine. “Preserving the Peace and Maintaining Order: Deconstructing the Legal Landscape of Public Housing in West Belfast, Northern Ireland.” Urban Geography, vol. 22, no. 2, 2001, pp. 100–105, https://doi.org/10.2747/0272-3638.22.2.100.

Feldman, Allen. “Violence and Vision: The Prosthetics and Aesthetics of Terror.” States of Violence, edited by Fernando Coronil and Julie Skurski, The University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, Michigan, 2006, pp. 425–459.

Gómez Alfaro, Garikoitz, and Fearghus Roulston. “Nostalgia for ‘HMP Divis’ and ‘HMP Rossville’: Memories of the Everyday in Northern Ireland’s High-Rise Flats.” Journal of War & Culture Studies, vol. 14, no. 1, 2021, pp. 25–44, https://doi.org/10.1080/17526272.2021.1873532.

Page, Adam (2017) Appropriating architecture: violence, surveillance and anxiety in Belfast’s Divis Flats. Candide – Journal for Architectural Knowledge (10). pp. 90-112. ISSN 1869-6465

Roy, Megan Deirdre. “Divis Flats: The Social and Political Implications of a Modern Housing Project in Belfast, Northern Ireland, 1968-1998.” The Iowa Historical Review, vol. 1, no. 1, 2007, pp. 1–44, https://doi.org/10.17077/2373-1842.1001.

Object 1: “High Life” part 1 BBC One documentary, 2010

The story of Divis Flats continues to attract attention today. This is a TV documentary from BBC One Northern Ireland first aired in 2010. As well as providing a general history and overview of the flats, it also contains several interviews of various players in the story of the flats. One of those interviewed is the architect, Frank Robertson. Interestingly, he shies away from really acknowledging issues with the design itself, instead blaming the residents of Divis Flats for issues with the facilities.

However, one of the most interesting aspects of this documentary is what it doesn’t acknowledge, namely the bias present in the planning of the flats. Similarly to the Bronx in New York City, the Pound Loney community was razed so that a highway could be built– in this case, the M1 motorway (Roy 4). In addition, by concentrating the Catholic community in high-rises, unionist politicians were able to ensure that Protestants would continue living in the nearby areas of the Shankill Road and Sandy Row, instead of moving further out and leaving room for Catholics to dominate the constituencies in the inner city (Roy 39). This process of ghettoization “implemented imperial and colonial agendas” by reducing social contact between opposing sides (Feldman 433-434). The British Army also had a hand in planning public housing in Belfast, which can clearly be seen in the design of the flats, where every door pointed towards the army post (Roy 24).

This documentary makes no reference to any of the above, perhaps unsurprisingly, as the BBC is the national broadcaster of the UK, and is thus predisposed to slant its news coverage towards the British state. Divis Flats is instead presented almost paternalistically, blaming the poor conditions on the residents just not knowing how to live in a modern high rise.

Object 2: The British Army base on Divis Tower in the early 2000s

“A man does not have a chance in these streets in the sky. At least in the old Pound Loney if you saw them coming to lift you, you had a chance to make a break for it down the street.”
–a resident of Divis Flats, as quoted in Dowler 102

Many of the residents of Divis Flats described it as a prison, with it even earning the nickname “HM Divis” (Alfaro & Roulston 28). This was not least due to the presence of the British Army base on top of Divis Tower, and the constant surveillance, humiliation, and harassment that entailed. Although the majority of people in Divis were initially not opposed to the British Army, this quickly changed due to a series of riots in which the military shot several people, including small children (Roy 26). The resulting widespread hostility amongst the residents led the army, in turn, to regard all residents of the flats as potential IRA members, which made them even more hostile, in a vicious cycle of violence.

The British Army took to conducting house searches, which the residents referred to as raids (Page 10). They blocked off entrances and exits by positioning soldiers on the stairs and lifts, and detained the people they rounded up in the laundry tower (Page 10-11). They also changed the flats to fit their needs, breaking and blacking out lights so that they would be harder to see, and cutting the cables on all of the lifts after the murder of two soldiers by an IRA bomb hidden in the lift shaft (Alfaro & Roulston 33-34; Roy 33).

The army frequently pasted photos of residents taken from the surveillance post onto the windows of flats below, heightening the paranoia of the residents (Page 14). This also served as a tool of humiliation, with one man interviewed telling a story of a friend of his who adjusted his zipper after he realized it was undone, and was featured on posters the next day with the caption “Do you want your children around this man?” (Dowler 100).

Object 3: “Ulster’s Lost Generation” New York Times article by John Conroy, 2 August 1981

Divis Flats attracted attention from outside of Northern Ireland due to its status as a symbol of the Troubles and a republican stronghold. This is a New York Times article from 1981, about three months after the death of Bobby Sands. It discusses the high crime rate in Divis Flats, its perception among the community, and the everyday violence, as well as the role of the IRA in policing Divis Flats. Among the people interviewed are a Divis resident in his twenties who is not part of the IRA, the press officer for Sinn Fein, and a representative of the RUC.

One of the main focuses of the article is the prominence of kneecapping as a form of punishment used by the IRA in their policing of their community. One man interviewed in the article, who was accused of car theft, was offered the choice of either cleaning the walkways of Divis Flats or being kneecapped by the IRA, and chose the kneecapping, because he felt that cleaning walkways would be too humiliating.

Another aspect of Divis Flats touched on by the article is its perception in the wider community of Belfast. Although the Divis resident interviewed looked for a job as an auto mechanic, as soon as he said that he was from the flats, he was turned down. This was not unusual; when applying for jobs, residents of the flats would often list the address of a friend or relative because of Divis’s notoriety (Roy 25). Partially because of this, the unemployment rate in the Falls area tended around 68 percent, and 51 percent of Divis residents depended solely on welfare (Roy 2).

Object 4: Photo of children playing outside Divis Flats by Chris Steele-Perkins, 1978

This picture shows children playing outside of Divis Flats, with the remnants of the former Pound Loney community behind them. Children in the flats were usually unsupervised, as the design of the flats did not allow parents to easily observe their children (Roy 40). This meant that they were targets, both as potential recruits for paramilitaries, and for being injured by the paramilitaries or the army. The first child killed in the Troubles was nine-year-old Patrick Rooney, who was killed in Divis Tower in August of 1969 when the RUC fired a machine gun into the flats (Alfaro & Roulston 28). In a study comparing the children from Divis Flats to those from a nearby terraced Catholic housing estate, children from Divis Flats “were shown to have significantly higher rates of emotional distress.” (Roy 20)

The poor conditions of the flats themselves also created danger for children. In a 1987 health and housing survey, 36 percent of the children in the flats had frequent coughs and 10 percent had asthma symptoms caused by the ever-present damp and mold, and in the mid-1980s, a child died by falling through a broken railing on the stairway (Roy 33-34). However, there were still moments of fun for the children, with one former resident recalling:

“I remember one of the things we used to do if we were bored was to walk round the balconies looking for black bows on the doors and go in to see the corpse. It didn’t matter if you knew them or not […] God love some of those poor people, we must of had them tortured, cos if it was a good corpse we’d go back a couple of times.”
– Veronica, quoted in Alfaro & Roulston 38

Object 5: “Riots in the Divis Flats” by Peter Marlow, 1981

Given the status of Divis Flats as a republican stronghold, riots and protests were not uncommon. This photo depicts rioters after the death of Bobby Sands, the first of the hunger strikers in the Maze prison to die. During the hunger strikes, young people living in the flats “hijacked and burned over 100 cars, buses, and trucks around the complex, barricaded all of the entrances, and turned Divis into a “no go” area,” sheets were draped over balconies to block surveillance from the tower, and armed IRA and INLA members patrolled openly (Roy 29). The security forces were not able to get into the flats for six weeks.

This is only one of many examples of resistance against the security forces. When soldiers tried to carry out raids, women would rattle pot lids off of the balconies to alert the surrounding area, and children would throw trash (Alfaro & Roulston 35). In 1983, over 50 percent of residents actively supported either the IRA or the INLA (Roy 38). These paramilitaries set booby traps in the flats for the soldiers, including a pipe bomb in a stairwell in February of 1974 that injured eleven residents, but not the patrol unit it was intended for, and fired on soldiers in Divis Tower (Roy 8, 11).

There were also more peaceful forms of protest, such as a 1971 rent strike in protest of internment that saw 100 percent participation from the residents of the flats (Dowler 103). In addition, many Divis residents attended rallies of the Women’s Peace Movement, a peaceful protest group, in 1976 (Roy 10).

Object 6: “Belfast’s Divis Flats to be demolished” Guardian article by Bob Rodwell, 9 July 1986

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Although residents had been calling for Divis Flats to be demolished since 1973, only a year after its completion, the Housing Executive did not accede to their demands until 1986 (Alfaro & Roulston 29). This article from the Guardian announcing the upcoming demolition cites vandalism and safety concerns for the military and police as reasons for razing the flats. This may have been the government’s stated reasoning, but for the residents, this was the culmination of over a decade of sustained protest, both through raising public awareness and forcibly rendering apartments uninhabitable.

The Divis Residents’ Association was formed in the late 1970s or early 1980s, and aimed to “raise public awareness through publications and studies” (Roy 12). They listed violence, social problems, and structural defects as reasons for demolition, but their biggest one was the “feeling of hopelessness, of being trapped in Divis” (Page 18). The Divis Demolition Committee, meanwhile, formed in 1979, decided to take matters into their own hands. They would make recently vacated flats uninhabitable by taking windows and doors out of the frames, breaking the frames, knocking through walls, pulling out electrical fittings, and closing the flats up with cinder blocks (Page 19-20; Roy 12). They also released rats in the office of the Housing Executive to show what daily life was like in Divis (Page 19). Sean Stitt, a member of the Committee at the time, explained their actions by saying “We can say to the Housing Executive, that if they don’t demolish Divis, the people of Divis Flats will certainly demolish it” (qtd. Page 20).

Ultimately, though all of the reasons given above may have played a role in Divis’s demolition, the major one was the same reason the Pound Loney had been torn down thirty years before: to make way for the M1 motorway (Roy 12-13).

Object 7: Photo of mural calling for demilitarization of Divis Tower by Peter Moloney, 19 February 2003

The flats themselves were completely demolished by the summer of 1993, but the tower remains to this day. The military base on the tower continued to keep watch over the lower Falls Road area until 2005, meaning that the residents there continued to feel a sense of paranoia from being observed almost twenty years after the announcement of the demolition of Divis Flats (Roy 2). This photograph, taken in 2003, shows a mural asking for the removal of the Divis Tower army base with the tower itself looming in the background. The mural was located on the International Wall on Divis Street, and was one of the first things a visitor to West Belfast coming in from the city center would see. Although the rest of Belfast is shown as a group of much shorter buildings silhouetted against the sky in the background, Divis Tower is large and bright, showing that it doesn’t belong.

Symbolically, the military base on Divis Tower was a remnant from the violent past for those living near it. It “became metonymic with the conflict itself, especially in its urban manifestation” (Alfaro & Roulston 35). While the blocks of flats became part of the fabric of a sort of mythos of republicanism during the Troubles, the Tower itself is not gone and is thus harder in some ways to reconcile with the violence that occurred there. Today, the Tower houses older people who need public housing, and is considered desirable enough that there is a long waiting list to live there.

Object 8: Photo of Jean McConville with three of her ten children, Associated Press

Though Divis Flats has (other than the tower) physically faded into the past, it is very much still alive in the public memory. This is a photo of Jean McConville, who was “disappeared” and murdered by the IRA on suspicion of being an informant in 1972, shown here with three of her ten children. She lived in Divis Flats when she vanished, and remains one of an extensive list of crimes from the Troubles that endure in public memory. She is particularly notable because of Gerry Adams’s alleged association with her disappearance and murder (Alfaro & Roulston 28). This particular case threatens the political status quo in Northern Ireland, making it clear that the violent past lurks just below the surface.

The flats’ symbolic status is furthered by the fact that their existence maps pretty closely onto the timeline of the Troubles. The first block was opened in May of 1968, four years before Bloody Sunday, and the final block was demolished in 1993, five years before the Good Friday Agreement was signed (Alfaro & Roulston 27). High and low points in the intensity of the conflict were directly echoed in Divis Flats. For this reason, it is often perceived and portrayed as a microcosm of the Troubles– the conflict centered in one area. This can be seen in movies about the Troubles. For example, the 2014 film ‘71 features Divis Flats as a nightmarish symbol for Northern Ireland as a whole (Alfaro & Roulston 36). Ultimately, perhaps a single area that experiences so much concentrated death and violence can never truly be erased from the public memory, even long after the physical structures are gone.

Bibliography:

British Army. “Soldiers Work at the Top of the 19-Storey Divis Tower.” BBC News UK, BBC, Belfast, Northern Ireland, 2005.

Conroy, John. “Ulster’s Lost Generation.” New York Times, 2 Aug. 1981, pp. 17–21.

Cunningham, Gemma, and Paul McGuigan. High Life Part 1. BBC One– High Life, Episode One, BBC One Northern Ireland, 2010, https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00v9kl0. Accessed 2023.

“Jean McConville with Three of Her Children.” RTÉ Ireland, RTÉ Ireland, Belfast, 2015.

Marlow, Peter. Riots in the Divis Flats. New York City, 1981, https://library.artstor.org/#/asset/AMAGNUMIG_10311502840. Accessed 2023.

Moloney, Peter. “Demilitarise Divis Tower.” Peter Moloney Collection, Extramural Activity, Belfast, 2013, https://petermoloneycollection.com/2003/02/19/demilitarise-divis-tower/. Accessed 2023.

Morrison, Brian. “Divis Flats.” Troubles Archive, Arts Council of Northern Ireland, 2014, http://www.troublesarchive.com/index.php/artforms/architecture/piece/divis-flats. Accessed 2023.

Page, Adam (2017) Appropriating architecture: violence, surveillance and anxiety in Belfast’s Divis Flats. Candide – Journal for Architectural Knowledge (10). pp. 90-112. ISSN 1869-6465

Rodwell, Bob. “Belfast’s Divis Flats to Be Demolished.” The Guardian, 9 July 1986. Nexis Uni, https://advance.lexis.com/document/?pdmfid=1516831&crid=f8a0684a-051b-4614-acf1-3ac5de0a39ff&pddocfullpath=%2fshared%2fdocument%2fnews%2furn%3acontentItem%3a40GH-JC70-00VY-82XJ-00000-00&pdcontentcomponentid=138620&pdteaserkey=sr0&pditab=allpods&ecomp=-znyk&earg=sr0&prid=7527a2a9-3358-433b-bed8-1cbdd8a2e23e&aci=la&cbc=0&lnsi=62415cbb-4e27-48e7-928d-8af07d9e3e43&rmflag=0&sit=null. Accessed 2023.

Steele-Perkins, Chris. Outside Divis Flats. New York City, 1978, https://library.artstor.org/#/asset/AMAGNUMIG_10311511498. Accessed 2023.

June 1, 2023June 1, 2023

Shooting the Troubles: Visualizing Propaganda and Sense of Place through Conflict-era Photography

The signing of the Good Friday Agreement in 1998 marked an end to the conflict and a sense of peace for many. However, almost 25 years after the signing of the Agreement, a standing narrative on the conflict remains in large part ‘all my side were heroes, all your side were terrorists.’ The futility of an agreed perspective feels rather prescient when considering the way in which the world learned to view the conflict; the way in which the conflict was documented for the world to see.

In the early 1970s the genre of war photography was budding as a form of international activism. A collective of photographers made their living traveling between the conflict hot spots, such as Vietnam, Guatemala, and, eventually, found Northern Ireland to be the next newsworthy war¹. These photojournalists from international media began imposing what had become the broadly accepted representation of violence onto the conflict in Northern Ireland².

Views from the United Kingdom of Northern Ireland as a politically backwards and socially archaic nation contributed to the simplification of these images to what the world saw³. The coverage of the conflict was largely influenced by the events of Bloody Sunday and the Widgery Reports. The Widgery Reports were set up following Bloody Sunday to understand the civilian deaths on this day and relied largely on photographic evidence⁴. Despite the creation of many of the photos meant to record the violence of the British, the outcome of the Reports saw more consideration, controversially, given to the British soldiers than to the victims and their families, instead putting the blame on the march organizers¹. In the international, and particularly British, perspective of focusing on the acts of violence, the pain felt in those photos for the communities affected has been somewhat divorced from the events themselves as the media focus has been put on the narrative of violence not sadness or loss.

Small boys at a demonstration in support of H-Block hunger strikers with coffins painted on the pavement. Belfast, Northern Ireland. 1981 — Boys at H-Block hunger strike demonstration. Belfast, Northern Ireland. 1981 (Ian Berry)

The latest development in shields is one made of Plexiglas. Unfortunately, it affords a dimmed visibility after repeated blows. 1973 (Philip Jones Grifith) — Boys at H-Block hunger strike demonstration. Belfast, Northern Ireland. 1981 (Ian Berry)

This narrative can be followed into the works created in this period. In comparing the photography and the approach to photographing of British and International photojournalists to that of their Northern Irish counterparts, there is a distinct disconnect between their processes, their images, and their concerns. Patterns of urban conflict and rural idyll dominate many of the internationally recognized photos⁴ in a design to respect neutrality and objectivity, while Northern photographers are able to capture the violence as it unfolds, allowing the viewer linked to the conflict to decode what is happening given the constructed narrative².

Exploring the documentation coming out of the nation at this time is that living in and experiencing the trauma produced vastly different visual responses. For these international photojournalists they could fly out to Belfast or Derry for a few days or a few weeks and return to their real lives. For the photographers of Northern Ireland, they went from photographing weddings, awards ceremonies, and sporting events to shooting funerals and soldiers walking down your own streets, many of the perpetrators or victims of the photos being neighbors or friends.

The international perspective on violence in general and specifically towards Northern Ireland created a narrative to be understood throughout the media as one of violence, hatred, and bigotry. In some cases the vision of international photojournalists matched this. The backgrounds and understandings of the conflict played an influential role in the experiences and images created by international photographers and the ones truly living through the Troubles.

Content Warning: Some of the material in the following exhibit may be distressing to some individuals due to the violent nature of select images.

Kids spraying soldiers. Belfast, 1972. (Philip Jones Griffiths) — Kids spraying soldiers. Belfast, *1972.* (*Philip Jones Griffiths*)

A SOLDIER WARNS CRISPIN ABOUT UNEXPLODED BOMB BLASTS AND LIVE GUNFIRE DURING RIOTING, THE 10TH OF SEPTEMBER, 2005 — Kids spraying soldiers. Belfast, *1972.* (*Philip Jones Griffiths*)

Footnotes

The Conversation, 2022
Hutchinson, 2018
Baker, 2017
Hanna, 2015

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6

May 31, 2023May 31, 2023

The Omagh Bombing and Its Aftermath

By: Tony Wilcox

The Good Friday Agreement is generally considered to have signaled the end of the Troubles (Morrison, 2020, 152). It is perhaps ironic, then, that the single deadliest incident of sectarian violence in Northern Ireland occurred after the agreement was created: the Omagh bombing (Morrison, 2020, 156). This attack, carried out in the town of Omagh a few months after the signing of the Good Friday Agreement, was perpetrated by the Real IRA, a splinter group of the Provisional IRA that was formed by those opposed to Sinn Fein’s participation in the peace talks leading up to the agreement (Class lecture, 05/17/2023).

The Real IRA hoped that the bombing would derail the peace process and reignite republican violence, but in the aftermath of the bombing, Northern Ireland became even more committed to ending sectarian violence (Class lecture, 05/17/2023). The attack caused a greater than intended number of casualties, due in part to either the Real IRA relaying incorrect information when it informed the authorities of the bomb or errors on the part of police in interpreting the Real IRA’s message, depending on who is asked (Class lecture, 05/17/2023). Additionally, the casualties consisted largely of civilians, including a handful of Spanish tourists, and many nationalists, due to Omagh being a predominantly Catholic town (Morrison, 2020, 157). None of these groups of people were generally considered to be acceptable targets of sectarian conflict the same way that security services or police officers might be (Morrison, 2020, 157). These factors led to the Real IRA receiving immense backlash from everyone involved in the Northern Ireland peace process (Morrison, 2020, 157). While this backlash would have been expected from governments and unionists, even nationalist groups such as Sinn Féin forcefully condemned the bombing (Class lecture, 05/17/2023). These reactions demonstrated that Northern Ireland at large stood in opposition to the Real IRA’s actions.

This universal backlash negatively impacted the Real IRA’s reputation, and they were forced to significantly alter their tactics in order to maintain the organization’s survival (Morrison, 2020, 157). They even went so far as to declare a ceasefire in the days following the attack, and while the Real IRA eventually resumed violent activities, the response to the Omagh bombing permanently altered their approach to violence; future attacks were generally designed to avoid the risk of causing a high number of civilians casualties (Morrison, 2020, 161). Indeed, the Omagh bombing would be the last major bombing committed by the Real IRA (Bloom and Horgan, 2008, 610). The powerful backlash also allowed the British and Irish governments to pass draconian anti-terrorism laws that further weakened the Real IRA (Morrison, 2020, 157). In addition, the event increased pressure on the Provisional IRA to engage in decommissioning (Parker, 2009, 11). Ultimately, the Omagh bombing demonstrates how actions meant to stir up violence can actually have the opposite effect if they end up generating a unified backlash, resulting in the weakening of the group behind the act and inspiring a more determined push for peace among everyone else involved.

Artifact 1: Photo of the car containing the bomb shortly before the explosion

This photograph was obtained from a camera found buried in rubble by investigators (Johnston). It depicts the red Vauxhall Cavalier that contained the 300 pounds of fertilizer based explosive used in the Omagh bombing (Johnston). It was taken mere minutes before the explosion occurred and underscores just how many civilians were nearby when the bomb went off (Johnston). Indeed, the image prominently shows a man with a child on his shoulders standing in front and just off to the side of the rigged vehicle. The photo also depicts numerous people walking or standing on the sidewalks closest to the car, all of whom are oblivious to the horror that is about to unfold. It was a busy day in Omagh, and to make matters worse, police ended up unintentionally moving people closer to the bomb, due to allegedly vague information from the Real IRA’s warning message (Johnston).

The death of so many innocent civilians played a major role in generating unified backlash against the Omagh bombing and the Real IRA. Unlike security personnel or police officers, who could be seen as extensions of the British state, civilians were not considered to be acceptable targets, especially not on such a large scale (Morrison, 2020, 157-158). Going forward, the Real IRA was careful to target its violent actions (including bombings) more narrowly so as to avoid large-scaled civilian casualties, which, as the photograph emphasizes, is a stark contrast from how they planned the Omagh bombing (Morrison, 2020, 158).

Artifact 2: Photo of Omagh after the explosion

This image, produced by the Associated Press in the aftermath of the attack, depicts a plethora of emergency workers and police officers surveying the damage caused by the explosion. A twisted mess of wood and steel, along with a heavily damaged car, lie at the center of the photo. Off to the left, one can see the ruins of buildings close to the explosion. As was typical for bombings carried out by republican paramilitary groups, the Omagh bombing was not intended to create a large number of civilian casualties, with the Real IRA instead hoping the attack would cause economic damage (Class lecture, 05/17/2023). This goal is seen with the decision to place the rigged car next to a clothes shop named SD Kells (Johnston). Of course, the Real IRA’s intentions of causing economic damage instead of perpetrating a mass casualty event did not stop the bomb from killing twenty-nine people (Morrison, 2020, 156). Photos such as these highlight the extent of the Omagh bombing’s devastation, making it clear why there was such a strong, unified backlash to the Real IRA. Had this attack been more carefully targeted, perhaps the Real IRA could have avoided the mass condemnation of its actions and the extremely negative impacts that came with it (Morrison, 2020, 157).

Artifact 3: RTE archive of eyewitness accounts

https://www.rte.ie/archives/2013/0815/468282-eye-witness-accounts-of-the-omagh-bombing/

These audio recordings of eyewitness accounts from people who witnessed the Omagh bombing paint a powerful picture of the horror the attack inflicted on the town (Caplin and RTE Archives, 1998). The first interviewee describes the sense of disbelief she felt in the immediate aftermath of the explosion, along with her dismay at the fact that people had unintentionally been driven closer to the bomb (Caplin and RTE Archives, 1998). The second interviewee recalls his frantic search for his wife and child, highlighting the chaotic nature of the scene (Caplin and RTE Archives, 1998). He goes on to describe how there was blood everywhere and that the street was littered with debris from the destroyed buildings (Caplin and RTE Archives, 1998). The final interviewee describes a similarly horrific scene, mentioning how she saw fathers trying to console their crying children (Caplin and RTE Archives, 1998). However, another memory of hers that sticks out is a much happier one: seeing a mother discover her daughter alive (Caplin and RTE Archives, 1998).

Heart-wrenching personal accounts of this nature emphasize the severe trauma that the bombing inflicted on the entire town of Omagh. Its effects were not limited to just one religious or sectarian group, as the attack occurred at the heart of a religiously mixed community (Johnson, 2012, 242). Catholics and Protestants alike were killed in double digit numbers (Johnson, 2012, 242). This aspect of the Omagh bombing goes some way towards explaining why it generated such a unified backlash against the Real IRA, as the deaths, injuries, and trauma it inflicted stretched across the sectarian divide (Johnson, 2012, 242).

Artifact 4: BBC article about the Real IRA apologizing

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/events/northern_ireland/focus/153629.stm

This article from the BBC, published a few days after the Omagh bombing, covers the Real IRA’s public apology for the attack. It was completely unprecedented for a paramilitary group to issue an apology in this manner (Class lecture, 05/17/2023). Therefore, the fact that the Real IRA felt the need to do so demonstrates just how powerful the backlash to the Omagh bombing was, with the Real IRA likely viewing the statement as something necessary in order to maintain its survival (Morrison, 2020, 57). However, the statement issued by the Real IRA also attempted to deflect some of the blame onto the police officers who had mistakenly driven people towards the bomb, maintaining that their operatives had not provided vague information (BBC News, 1998). This tactic demonstrated how the organization was already trying to distance itself from the attack, something it would continue to do for years to come even after it resumed its violent activity (Morrison, 2020, 159). Naturally, people were not keen to accept the Real IRA’s so-called apology, with the article featuring quotes from Northern Ireland Secretary Mo Mowlam harshly criticizing the statement (BBC News, 1998). Mowlam also rejected the notion that police shared responsibility for the death toll, contending that the blame rested squarely with the Real IRA (BBC News, 1998). Finally the article also contains a quotation from someone highlighting the importance of decommissioning, which underscores how the Omagh bombing led to an increased push for this process to be carried out (Parker, 2009, 11).

Artifact 5: Guardian article about Sinn Féin condemning the bombing

https://www.theguardian.com/uk/1998/aug/16/northernireland.henrymcdonald2

This article from The Guardian, written by Henry McDonald and published the day after the Omagh bombing, discusses Sinn Féin’s public condemnation of the attack. McDonald highlights that the nature of Sinn Féin’s statement represents a stark change from past responses to instances of republican violence. Traditionally, Sinn Féin would not take part in the “politics of condemnation”, but that philosophy was completely abandoned in its response to the Omagh bombing (McDonald, 1998). This decision by Sinn Féin to forcefully criticize the attack went a large way towards demonstrating how united Northern Ireland was in its desire to continue the peace process and parlaying the grief in the aftermath of the bombing into increased support for the peace process (Class lecture 05/17/2023).

Interestingly, the tone of McDonald’s article towards the peace process is not all that optimistic, as after outlining Sinn Féin’s condemnation, he speculates that the Omagh bombing will give credence to hardline unionist arguments that the peace process is not working. McDonald also identifies that the purpose of the attack was to derail the peace process, which puts unionists who might advocate for a crackdown in the awkward position of playing into the Real IRA’s hands. Next, the article mentions how the attack might increase support for the Irish government to enact selective internment for dissident republicans (McDonald, 1998). Finally, McDonald states that the Omagh bombing has destroyed support for the Real IRA among the nationalist community. The article is quite fascinating from a modern context due to the contrasting outcomes of its predictions and speculations; some (increased crackdown on dissident republicans by the Irish government) proved true, but others (fears that unionists would play into the Real IRA’s hands by derailing the peace process) ultimately did not play out (Class lecture 05/17/2023).

Artifact 6: Michael Farrell Omagh bombing artwork

This artwork by Michael Farrell is a tribute to those killed in the Omagh bombing, as shown by the accompanying description and poem. The latter text makes a clear plea for unity, declaring that orange and green (the colors of the Irish flag) does not matter and hoping that the attack won’t “shatter our dream”. This quotation can be interpreted as referring to the peace process, given that the Omagh bombing’s purpose was to derail the peace process (Class lecture, 05/17/2023). As highlighted by the artwork description, Farrell’s work powerfully underscores the horrific violence inflicted by the bombing. This is seen by how the trail of blood leading away from the pair of shoes is the only instance of color in the work, which naturally draws more attention to it. Another notable aspect of the work is the menacing figure standing behind the shoes, perhaps representing the Real IRA.

Farrell’s art stands as yet another example of how the Omagh bombing united Northern Ireland and strengthened many’s resolve to continue the peace process, a stark contrast from the Real IRA’s goal (Class lecture, 05/17/2023). The artwork also depicts the long-lasting trauma that the Omagh bombing inflicted, serving as just one example of the multiple memorials of and tributes to the victims of the attack, memorials that have continued in the decades since (Johnson, 2012, 237).

Artifact 7: Excerpt of the Criminal Justice (Terrorism and Conspiracy) Act of 1998

https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/1998/40/pdfs/ukpga_19980040_en.pdf

Above is the first substantive page of the Criminal Justice (Terrorism and Conspiracy) Act of 1998. Below it is a link to the act in its entirety. This legislation was rushed through the British parliament in the wake of the Omagh bombing and designed to prevent similar attacks from occuring in the future (Walker, 1999, 879). The act can be broken down into two parts, with the first one targeting specific organizations and individuals trying to disrupt the Northern Ireland peace process (Walker, 1999, 879). This part of the act was explicitly designed to be draconian and granted the government additional broad powers when it came to arresting and prosecuting members of organizations deemed terrorist groups (Walker, 1999, 879). For example, the excerpt features a provision that the oral opinions of police officers above the rank of superintendent stating that the accused is a member of particular organizations can be used as evidence to convict someone on charges of certain offenses. In effect, the law elevates police officers above the rank of superintendent to the status of an expert witness who can provide opinions based on personal judgements and experiences, rather than being limited to the facts of the case (Walker, 1999, 883). This stands as just one example of the act giving the British government more leeway when prosecuting people from certain violent organizations like the Real IRA.

The second part of the act focuses more on foreign dissidents that seek to perpetrate violent action against the United Kingdom (Walker, 1999, 879). It is worth noting that the Irish government also passed similar anti-terror legislation after the Omagh bombing (Morrison, 2020, 156). The Criminal Justice Act of 1998 showcases a different dimension of how the Omagh bombing backfired for the Real IRA, as the attack allowed their primary opponent to rapidly grant itself more prosecutorial power (Walker, 1999, 879).

Artifact 8: Photo of the Garden of Light memorial

This image depicts the Garden of Light, a memorial in Omagh that commemorates the Omagh bombing. It was unveiled on the tenth anniversary of the attack and was years in the making (Johnson, 2012, 246-253). The process involved looking at multiple proposals and a delicate process of consulting community members and advocacy groups to determine what the memorial should look like (Johnson, 2012, 246-253). Ultimately, the metal poles with mirrors attached were selected as the primary memorial, with each pole bearing the name of someone killed (Johnson, 2012, 248-252). The Garden of Light was constructed in tandem with a more discrete glass obelisk and stone plaque that were placed directly at the site of the explosion (Johnson, 2012, 246-253).

The creation of the Garden of Light and its sister memorials was not completely without controversy; indeed, one advocacy group, the Omagh Support and Self-Help Group (OSSHG), was unhappy that the stone plaque did not explicitly name dissident republicans as the perpetrators of the bombing (Johnson 2012, 250). But overall, the memorial itself and the unveiling ceremony were a display of unity. With its focus on the victims, the Garden of Light is not an overtly sectarian memorial and does not directly convey a certain ethno-religious message (Johnson, 2012, 246-253). The unveiling ceremony was also attended by representatives of four different churches: Catholic, Presbyterian, Methodist, and Anglican (Johnson, 2012, 253). There were even representatives from all four churches at a separate ceremony held by the still dissatisfied OSSHG (Johnson, 2012, 253).

The Garden of Light undoubtedly exemplifies the continuing trauma felt by Omagh and Northern Ireland from the bombing, but its construction and overall reception demonstrates a high level of unity within a society that is usually highly divided along sectarian lines (Johnson, 2012, 240). I believe it is another sign that, even years later, the Real IRA’s attempt to derail the Northern Ireland peace process only strengthened people’s resolve to reject violence and continue seeking peace.

Reference List

Author unknown. n.d. Omagh_imminent.jpg. http://www.wesleyjohnston.com/users/ireland/past/omagh/before.html

BBC News. 1998. “Real IRA apologizes for Omagh bomb.” Retrieved May 28, 2023. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/events/northern_ireland/focus/153629.stm

Belfast Telegraph. 2008. Floodlights illuminate the Omagh Memorial Garden last night following a silent tribute to the victims earlier in the day to mark the 10th anniversary of the bombing. https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/omaghs-message-of-hope-amid-the-silence/28443703.html

Bloom, Mia and John Horgan. 2008. “Missing Their Mark: The IRA’s Proxy Bomb Campaign.” Social Research, 75(2), 579–614.

British Parliament. 1998. Criminal Justice (Terrorism and Conspiracy) Act 1998. https://www.legislation.gov.uk/ukpga/1998/40/pdfs/ukpga_19980040_en.pdf

Calpin, Mary and RTE Archives. 1998. “Witness accounts of the devastation following a car bomb in Omagh that killed 29 people and injured hundreds.” Retrieved May 28, 2023. https://www.rte.ie/archives/2013/0815/468282-eye-witness-accounts-of-the-omagh-bombing/

Farrell, Michael. 2000. Omagh Bombing. http://www.troublesarchive.com/artforms/visual-art/piece/omagh-bombing

Gupta, Dev. 2023. “Class Lecture 05/17/2023.” POSC 284.

Johnson, Nuala C. 2012. “The contours of memory in post-conflict societies: enacting public remembrance of the bomb in Omagh, Northern Ireland.” Cultural Geographies, 19(2), 237–258.

Johnston, Wesley. n.d. “Before the Bomb – 15 August, 1998.” Retrieved May 30, 2023. http://www.wesleyjohnston.com/users/ireland/past/omagh/before.html

McDonald, Henry. 1998. “Sinn Fein breaks with past to condemn ‘disgusting’ act.” The Guardian, 16 August, https://www.theguardian.com/uk/1998/aug/16/northernireland.henrymcdonald2

Morrison, John. 2020. “Reality Check: The Real IRA’s Tactical Adaptation and Restraint in the Aftermath of the Omagh Bombing.” Perspectives on Terrorism, 14(6), 152–164.

Parker, Michael. 2009. “Changing history: the Republic and Northern Ireland since 1990.” PP. 3-15 in Irish Literature Since 1990: Diverse Voices, Michael Parker and Scott Brewster, eds. Manchester: Manchester University Press.

PA/AP Images. n.d. Aftermath of the terrorist attack in Omagh, County Tyrone, Northern Ireland, August 15, 1998. https://www.britannica.com/event/Omagh-bombing
Walker, Clive. 1999. “The Bombs in Omagh and Their Aftermath: The Criminal Justice (Terrorism and Conspiracy) Act 1998”. The Modern Law Review, 62(6), 879–902.

Walker, Clive. 1999. “The Bombs in Omagh and Their Aftermath: The Criminal Justice (Terrorism and Conspiracy) Act 1998”. The Modern Law Review, 62(6), 879–902.