For an account, from a rather different angle and from an Irish pen, of how events moved in the last few years before the war we are privileged to reprint here an article entitled ‘The Irish Dimension’ from the all too short-lived literary and historical periodical The Wexford Pirate (its first and last edition, in fact) published in June 1986.
It has been said that in Ireland what is self-evident has quite often in the past been stubbornly denied if politics, prejudice or the faith found it inconvenient. Irish insistence on neutrality furnished a case in point. Its futility had long been clear. It was only the problem of the north which, under all three of these counts, had prevented general acknowledgement in the Republic of something so obvious to the world outside.
After the establishment of the Anglo-Irish Inter-Governmental Council in 1981, and a series of firm but friendly interventions by the US Administration, the regular semi-private meetings between the Irish Taoiseach and the British Prime Minister became more important, even if they also sometimes became less bland.
One such meeting in 1983 was billed in the press as having touched on two subjects almost always avoided, the so-called ‘British army of occupation’, and ‘the possibilities of eventual confederation’.
The two leaders did not find themselves all that far apart. The Times-Guardian reported on the first subject:
The Taoiseach said that British soldiers in Ulster, though carrying out a well-nigh impossible job with great courage and such tact as they could muster, were regarded as an army of occupation even by moderate Catholics who ought to know better. That is to say, youngsters threw stones at British soldiers in the belief that they were thereby ‘demonstrating for Ireland’, whatever was meant by that, and unfortunately even middle-class Catholic fathers did not disabuse them.
The troops’ presence was preventing a Catholic massacre. Their task would be easier, however, if they were not operating under the flag of Britain, a country against which old Catholic animosities continued to smoulder and were all too easily fanned into flame.
According to the report, the British Prime Minister said that she warmly agreed. Although the task could hardly be handed to United Nations peacekeeping forces (the parading of Indian or Nigerian troops down the Falls Road might cause more problems than it solved), it would be most welcome if this dangerous, thankless and costly job could eventually pass to NATO or EEC forces, including, after an interval, even some Irish troops. But this would be easier if Ireland had some association with NATO, and if NATO could come to regard ‘this fight of all free Irishmen, against Soviet-armed and communist-financed murderers’, as, if not actually something of a NATO obligation, at least as a matter of pressing interest to NATO.
The Taoiseach was reported to have said that he took at least the first of these points, and intended to do something about it.
Shortly afterwards an arrangement was arrived at which neatly sidestepped public repugnance in Eire at official alliance with Britain, by the use of Ireland’s ancient connection with another traditional enemy of England — France. A bilateral defence agreement was made between the Irish and French republics, under the benevolent gaze of NATO, which provided for the stationing of Irish troops overseas, in the joint defensive interests of both, under French command. Poets heard the beating of the wings of wild geese in the night. The ghost of Marechal McMahon smiled, and many another. An Irish Brigade would serve with the French again, as others had served three centuries ago.
The Federal Republic positively welcomed the location of an Irish contingent in southern Germany, provided someone else accepted the stationing costs. Eire itself could not — that was obvious. In the event, as might have been expected, the United States picked up the tab, and in the spring of 1984 an Irish brigade group moved into hastily erected but good barrack accommodation, under command of II French Corps, in the neighbourhood of Trier.
It consisted of a brigade group headquarters and three mobile battalions, a field artillery regiment, an anti-aircraft artillery regiment and reconnaissance squadron, with engineer, ordnance and supply companies, all in a highly satisfactory state of training. Its commander was a promising young one-star general with considerable experience in UN peacekeeping, supported by a hand-picked staff, many of whom (like the commander) had the advantage of professional training in British defence establishments. For, of course, however far apart the Irish Government felt obliged to keep from Britain, out of deference to the deeply rooted animosities of earlier generations and to Irish-American opinion, in which long out-dated attitudes still thrived, Irish defence leant quite heavily on British support, freely given with an unostentatious friendliness which made it doubly welcome. There also now duly appeared in Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe a modest Irish increment to the considerable liaison staff maintained there under a major-general by the French, non-membership of NATO notwithstanding. The whole arrangement was one which suited everybody who faced the facts of life in Eire’s relations with the outer world as they really were, and not as they were imagined to be.
Irish neutrality in a major East-West conflict, however loudly trumpeted by successive Taoiseachs, had never in fact been a starter. Eamonn de Valera had once roundly declared that the defence of the British Isles was one. It was abundantly clear at the turn of the 1970s that the only way to avoid the direct involvement of Ireland in a world war, given that island’s geographical position, would be to tow it away and anchor it somewhere else.
Even before the London New Statesman disclosed in early 1981 that critical installations and other facilities in the Republic had almost certainly been targeted for attack by both sides it was perfectly clear that they would play a very important part in a war between the Atlantic Alliance and the Warsaw Pact.
The use of Shannon and west coast sites was vital for maritime operations in the Atlantic; availability of the Irish airfields and ports was essential for the successful operation of the Atlantic ‘air bridge’ reinforcement operations into France and Britain for the European front; and the deployment of mobile radar and other surveillance systems would give much needed depth to NATO’s air defence against Soviet attack, by sea or air, from the West.
To be quite blunt about it, if these facilities were not used by consent they would be seized. Otherwise they would be destroyed, if not by one side then by the other, to deny their use to the enemy. Sir John Junor, one of the most honest and outspoken commentators in the journalism of these offshore islands, made no bones about it. ‘In an East-West war,’ he wrote in London’s Sunday Express in June 1983, ‘a declaration of Irish neutrality would afford about as much protection as a fig leaf in Antarctica.’
On the second subject, the future association of component parts of the British Isles, the Times-Guardian reported:
The two prime ministers agreed that the ideal eventual solution would be a confederation or federation of Ireland, maybe indeed eventually leading to some confederation of all territories in the British Isles.