UK state: Northern Ireland

["Michael Keaney" <michael.keaney@xxxxxx>]

Now that we've had a chance to cool off and absorb some of the information
(or otherwise) of the past 2 months concerning British state dirty tricks in
Northern Ireland, this would be a good opportunity to revisit some earlier,
ignored revelations of what Her Majesty's empire loyalists were up to in the
occupied province. For the recent media hullaballoo over dirty tricks
completely ignored the fact that there has been in existence, in the public
domain, information concerning the activities of the occupying forces that
exposes the divisions that have always existed within the UK state apparatus
and which have culminated in the triumph of that fraction which is committed
to withdrawal from Northern Ireland as part of a more general reorientation
of UK state strategy away from the empire loyalist/US toady hybrid towards a
more emphatic Europe orientation.

Before going on to some evidence, first some of the implications arising
from the "Stakeknife" allegations and those regarding the possibility of up
to five UK agents in senior positions within the IRA. So far media attention
and, it has to be said, a fair proportion of attention on this list, has
dwelt upon the destabilising impact of these "revelations" within the
republican movement. But the questions they beg of the British state itself
are, arguably, much bigger. Because if these allegations are true, then
there is a very long, as yet indeterminate, list of people who would have to
account for their actions during this period.

For while the main focus of media attention to the "Stakeknife" affair has
been the idea that the state was fully cognisant of plans to kill individual
Northern Ireland citizens, and that sacrifices were made in order to protect
the identity of the agent(s) involved, no one, to my knowledge, has yet
pointed out the rather obvious implication of these allegations which is
that key elements within the state apparatus must, by definition, have known
something about some or all of the following:

1979: the assassination of Earl Mountbatten
1984: the Brighton bombing of the Conservative Party conference
1990: the assassination of Ian Gow
1992: the Baltic exchange bomb, London
1993: the Bishopsgate bomb, London
1996: the Docklands bomb, London

All of these acts are accepted as having been committed by the Provisional
IRA. Therefore, the allegations concerning the supposed longtime presence of
agents in senior positions within the IRA must surely open up a Pandora's
box concerning who knew what, when, and what did they do about it? For
instance, it has been claimed in press reports that Thatcher herself
authorised, at least to some extent, the dirty war tactics of the 1980s. But
in so doing, did she inadvertently seal the fate of her long time ally and
Airey Neave protégé Gow? Meanwhile, on 11 May 1979, Earl Mountbatten
accepted the award of the Louise Weiss Foundation Prize to the Stockholm
International Peace Research Institute, delivering a speech against nuclear
weapons. Given the secret and not-so-secret state paranoia about the growing
peace movement (Callaghan had just covertly authorised the upgrading of
Polaris via the Chevaline project, without informing the Cabinet, whilst
Thatcher was as gung ho as any present Bush administration hawk), a
downgrading of security or a tactical leakage of information could have
easily sealed his fate.

As mentioned earlier, the "revelations" that the British security apparatus
in Northern Ireland was up to dirty tricks long pre-date the recent flurry
of interest. If we go back in time, there has been a steady trickle of
information all within the public domain, whether in Peter Taylor's
investigations for the BBC, the Bloody Sunday inquiry's public hearings,
Private Eye magazine's exposure of double agent Brian Nelson's activities,
and Peter Wright's allusions to MI5-MI6 rivalry in "Spycatcher", published
in 1987. It was around that time that two former army officers who had
served in Northern Ireland during the early-to-mid 1970s were making
seemingly fantastic claims about having been stitched up in order to silence
them from making allegations concerning MI5 plots to overthrow Harold Wilson
in addition to dubious security force activities in collusion with armed
loyalist groups. Colin Wallace is better known, having been framed for the
manslaughter of his colleague's husband in 1980, only to be released six
years later and thereafter, championed by the likes of Paul Foot, Robin
Ramsay and Stephen Dorril, at the forefront of efforts to uncover the truth
regarding what elements of the British state were doing during the 1970s.

The other individual is less well known, but formed a friendship with
Wallace during their parallel efforts to clear their names, gain some sort
of restitution for the gross injustices committed against themselves, and
expose the truth. His name is Fred Holroyd. He was a Captain in the British
army who, like Wallace, did not question his orders or the rationale behind
those orders. Until, that is, like Wallace, he moved into an intelligence
role in Northern Ireland. While Wallace's story was the subject of Paul
Foot's book "Who Framed Colin Wallace" (Pan Macmillan 1990), Holroyd's "War
Without Honour" was published by a small, independent publisher, Medium
Publishing Co., based in Hull, England, in 1989 (ISBN 1-872398-00-6). The
book is difficult to find but well worth getting hold of. Below are some
choice cuts which shed some light on issues that have been part of an
ongoing focus of debate here on the lists. Presumably, owing to the
publisher's low budget, the proof reading that went into the preparation of
this volume was not at a level usually associated with bigger publishers,
hence a few minor mistakes. Holroyd's opening claim of a feud between MI5
and MI6 between 1975-6 is partly contradicted by evidence he presents
subsequently, showing that this feud transcended these two years and was
already in full swing by 1974, a significant year in the annals of UK secret
state skullduggery.

-----

Chapter 6: The Intelligence Web

In 1975-76, Northern Ireland became one of the battlegrounds for a damaging
feud between MI6, the Secret Intelligence Service, and MI5, the Security
Service. The two civilian Intelligence agencies have long had a history of
rivalry, particularly in areas where it is uncertain as to which should be
the predominant service. Traditionally, MI6 has operated on foreign soil,
while MI5 has been responsible for domestic security. This is a
simplification, for there are countless cross-dealings, and reasons for
interplay, but in the case of Northern Ireland cooperation reached an
all-time low. Given the difficult question of exactly how to determine the
sovereignty of the province, this is, perhaps, not surprising. Since 1972,
MI6 had dominated the scene. But during the course of this feud, it lost
ground to its rival organisation; and the result was the SIS chief being
posted out of Lisburn, the poaching of the network of handles and sources he
had been running, and the imposition of an entirely different kind of
Intelligence gathering, whose lack of scruples made it a perfect foil to the
kind of dirty tricks I have already described.

I am not trying to paint MI6 as some kind of welfare organisation. Their
reluctance to get involved in the more disreputable activities of this
'dirty war' was professional rather than ethical. MI6 were certainly capable
of running some dubious operations. It was MI6 who organised the Littlejohn
brothers in their campaign of bank robberies in 1972; and I was asked in
1974 by my MI6 controller, Craig Smillie, if I would consider robbing a
bank. I declined, explaining that this was not part of the duties of one of
Her Majesty's officers and he never mentioned it again. The point is that
for MI6 the name of the game was essentially persuasion, penetration,
information. MI6 had many years experience of handling agents in hostile
territory and they had learned that brutality didn't work. Further, MI6 were
sophisticated enough to know that in the end some kind of political
settlement would have to be worked out; and such a deal would not be
facilitated by alienating a section of the community who would have to be
included in any settlement.

In spite of the seamier side of our activities as agents for Craig Smellie,
when it came to handling sources, both Bunny Dearsley and myself were
encouraged by Smellie to take a humane attitude. We understood what risks
they were taking, and we knew that the most sensible way to treat our
sources then was with an honest and friendly manner, making sure they were
looked after, and only using information that did not compromise their
safety. When Bunny left the province, and officially handed over sources
like Dreamcoat and Folorn Hope [sic] to me, he left me a tape, describing
his dealings with them, the best way to approach them, and how to make sure
they stayed in place, giving us the kind of intelligence we would make real
use of. I carried on where he left off. And I understood that our particular
way of recruiting and maintaining our sources meant that we had to be
trusted friends of theirs. Personally, I actually enjoyed drinking with
Dreamcoat and listening to Goldilocks and her lurid tales. But the
importance of this attitude was that this was the most effective means of
eliciting Intelligence.

The agent handlers MI5 sought to bring in, drawn not only from the
Intelligence Corps, but the SAS as well, had a very different kind of
understanding. Their policy was basic and shortsighted -- use whatever
means, legal or illegal, to blackmail the source into acting out of fear for
his or her own safety, then force them to carry out operations which cannot
be traced back to the handler, unless the former is prepared to risk his or
her life by confessing what he or she has done. This means that, instead of
running a network full of mutual trust and support, based on handlers'
abilities to exploit dissatisfaction or the desire for revenge on the part
of the sources, there was an embittered and fragmented operation, in which
no one could afford to turn his back. There was no possible long-term future
in such manipulation, and the danger to those we would need to keep in place
was so increased that any short term gains were effectively nullified. But
such was the policy the new masters were determined to introduce in Ulster.
The casualties were manifold.

In describing how we recruited Folorn Hope, through the indiscretion of
Captain R, I spoke of how his commanding officer, Colonel B, was incensed by
what we had done, and was unlikely to let us get away with it. We could have
had no idea, that he would actually arrange to have us ambushed by British
Army soldiers in order to scare us off our source, so that she could be
reclaimed by others. But then, we were unaware at the time that these were
amongst the first blows in our area being struck at the behest of the
Security Service in order to get MI6-oriented officers out of the way. At
the time I though these conflicts on our side were merely personality
clashes.

The ambush happened one night as we were bringing the woman back to her home
after a debriefing. We had been driving her round to various places, so she
could point out certain houses and personalities. It was our custom to park
at the far side of an estate in Lurgan, where she lived, in a dark lane.
Bunny would walk just behind Forlorn Hope and I would cover his back, with
my sub-machine gun hidden under my jacket, half turning this way and that to
make sure everything was all right. On this particular night, quite plainly,
it was not. Suddenly I heard a whispering sound from the bushes in front of
us, followed by a scuffling sound. Bunny immediately grabbed Forlorn Hope
and bundled her down. He drew his pistol and waited. Nothing happened. And
then, again, I heard whispering. Bunny was being called torwards the bushes.
I waited behind, covering him as he made his way forward. A figure stepped
out of the bushes. I could see them talking. Other figures became visible --
all in civilian clothes, carrying weapons. I wondered just what was going
on, but Bunny was talking to them in such a way that I had realised that
they were not hostile. Now I could see clearly they were carrying British
Army weapons. I assumed they were UDR men, or something of the kind. But
then Bunny came back to me -- He said, 'You'll never believe this. Stay here
till I get her home --' He then helped our source to her feet and ushered
her off down the lane. I waited for him, while the figures in the dark stood
around, looking highly embarrassed, saying nothing. Bunny was back very
quickly. He brought one of them over to me and said, 'Go on! Tell him!' This
British soldier then proceeded to describe how he had received orders to
come out there with a squad of men and shoot at us, in order to scare us
away from the area so that we wouldn't return. I said I didn't believe him.
He insisted that it was the truth, and that by challenging us instead and
letting us know that we had been set up, he was disobeying orders and would
no doubt suffer the consequences, but since he was a soldier from Bunny's
old unit, and had the utmost respect for him, he felt he had no choice.

Shaking my head angrily, I went back to the car. Bunny, meanwhile, helped
the soldier concoct a reasonable story as to why he had failed to carry out
the ambush. He then joined me in the car. We left the scene, and discussed
our plan of action. We knew only that the order for the ambush had come from
the Battalion Commander. Our only option was to go and see Craig Smellie in
Lisburn and tell him exactly what had happened, in the hope that he would
have the power to do something about it.

This we did. Smellie was suitably outraged. We left his office, without any
doubt that some action would be taken. The next day, we learned that the
Colonel had been posted immediately and was on his way to Cyprus to take up
a new appointment. I later discovered that the plan, conceived by Brigade
Intelligence Staff was designed to frighten off myself and Bunny, leaving
them free to recruit and run our source for MI5. What they had failed to
realise was that, had the shots been fired at us at close range, far from
running away, we would have to retaliate in kind which may have led to
British soldiers being killed by British soldiers, and the resultant furore
would have made the Gilford Castle incident I mentioned earlier seem like a
tea party. Yet Brigade presumably had been willing to sanction this, with
all the risks involved. It was a measure of just how bitter the
inter-service rivalry had become.

There were other signs along the way. On one of our foraging expeditions
round the Republican estate of Kilwilkie, at the back of St Coleman's
Cemetary, we had used our authority to have an area of one square mile
sealed off, for as long as we needed it -- out of bounds to regular Army
personnel. This was to ensure that no Army personnel would mistake us, armed
and in civilian clothes, for terrorists. Although Brigade had been annoyed
about our activity they were unable to stop us, but they arranged for Land
Rovers to be placed with soldiers inside, all around the perimeter, to check
our movements so that on the following day a Patrol could comb the area and
effectively undermine the clandestine nature of our work for MI6.

We were coming out, our task accomplished -- Bunny, myself and two local RUC
officers -- when Bunny suddenly put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me,
'Can you smell it?' he asked in a whisper. For a moment, I thought he had
gone crazy. 'It's gelly' he said. 'Gelly!' Still, I didn't cotton on, for to
me, IRA explosives meant Co-op mix, or Anfo; they smelled of diesel.
Gelignite has a completely different smell altogether -- a smell of
marzipan -- and it wasn't one I was familiar with.

Bunny then disappeared into the double hedgerow beside us. We had been very
careful until now, scanning the area with a nightscope, keeping quiet,
dressed in our dark gear. Suddenly, he started shining a torch around him,
breaking branches as he laboured to drag something out of the hedgerow. And
I was left with the two policemen, thinking 'Here we go, there's going to be
boyos here soon...' But, fortunately, no one heard Bunny but ourselves.

He came out of the hedgerow with a big shopping bag full of rather old
gelignite, wired up with cortex and detonators, and set it at my feet. He
then proceeded to take this bomb apart in front of me, while I gulped
nervously, trying to hide my dislike of explosives, recalling the time at
Ashford when I had been made to manufacture the chemical Molotov. When he
had finished, he put the stinking explosives back in the bag and handed it
to me. 'What do you want me to do with it?' I asked. Bunny smiled. 'Just get
rid of it, Fred,' he said.

In fact, the bomb was in such a volatile state that it would have had to
have been used within the next twenty four hours, in Lurgan or a similar
location nearby, or it would have been too dangerous to move at all. So we
had to take it out. I ended up driving the stuff back to my own home, with a
foul headache as a result, and keeping it overnight in a field. Early the
next morning, I took it down to Mahon Road camp and explained my dilemma to
the 2 i/c there, a Major in the Green Howards Regiment. I told him how I had
come across the bomb in the course of my work for MI6 and that it was on the
Brigadier's patch; if he found out, it would simply prove a further source
of conflict. I knew the regiment had some troops at Cookstown and Dungannon,
and I asked the Major if he could arrange for the shopping bag to be taken
there, so that his soldiers could claim the credit for finding it, and could
avoid having to involve the Brigadier. He duly agreed, and I left the camp.

I then visited the SAS at Castledillon. On my return I had a message to
report to the Brigade Commander, to return a borrowed Ingram sub-machine
gun. I went straight to Lurgan and into his office. I had to endure a tirade
of abuse ... How dare I operate in this manner in his area, what the hell
did I think I was doing trying to arrange for the bomb to be transported to
Dungannon without his knowing ... and so on. It was an extraordinary display
of animosity. And the fact was, he wasn't entitled to know what I had been
doing; those were the rules, but he wouldn't accept them.

I left Lurgan, with no doubts as to just how deep this inter-agency
antagonism had become. This was reinforced when a short while later, a Staff
Sergeant, a Brigade Intelligence Collator, said quite openly to me -- 'We're
going to fix you one day, Fred. Don't worry.' It was offered in a jokey sort
of way and I responded in kind.

Through all this, however, I remained certain that my own Colonel would
defend me, whatever happened. I had only acted on his orders, and I had kept
him fully informed of the ill-feeling aroused, and he had continually
assured me that I was acting correctly, and that he would 'watch my back' if
Brigade HQ tried to create mischief for me. I believed that I was a good
operator, who had achieved far more than had been expected of me and I
believed that my Colonel would support me. That was my mistake. Colonel D at
this time, far from supporting me, as he claimed, wrote a confidential
report on me, which stated that I was working on my own and showed little
respect for my responsibilities. I was appalled. I made a point of going to
Lisburn and talking to him about it. I confronted him as he was walking
through the camp and asked why he had done this. Not surprisingly, he was
extremely embarrassed and refused to discuss the report. I felt disgusted at
his lack of loyalty. I went instead to the Assistant Chief Constable of my
police Division -- who contacted the Army authorities in an attempt to put
things right. I was later assured that the report had been amended. This did
not, however, explain Colonel D's deceit.

It wasn't until some years later that I discovered that at the time he had
actually been running a source for MI5. This was admitted by the Ministry of
Defence. In other words, D was MI5's man. Earlier, I described my
recruitment into MI6, and how I dutifully consulted with my CO, who insisted
I pass a secret copy of everything that came my way to him. But D was
working for the rival organisation. It is inevitable that he passed these
copies to MI5. One may safely assume that it had some bearing on the way in
which '5' so easily penetrated the '6' network, and later took it over.
Officers like my Colonel were acting as their stooges.

However, in May 1975 D left the province. A new man took over at SMIU Knock.
His name was Colonel B. I hoped that he would genuinely back me in my
troubles with Brigade -- since he too repeatedly assured me he would. But
again, I was unaware of the connection with MI5 at the time. By now, MI5
were making sure that all the officers sent to fulfill Intelligence roles in
Ireland were 'their men'. B was no ally. It was only a matter of months
before I, too, would leave Ulster, on the manufactured pretext that I had
suffered some kind of mental breakdown.

-- Fred Holroyd, "War Without Honour", Hull: Medium Publishing Co., 1989,
pp. 89-94