Bloody Sunday Inquiry

Lord Eames Excerpts

Wednesday 13th October 2010 Lords Chamber

[Lord Eames]

My Lords, I begin by declaring an interest as co-chairman of the Consultative Group on the Past, set up by the British Government to inquire into ways in which we could not only bring out the truth of the past but bring about reconciliation. I also declare an interest as Bishop of Derry three years after Bloody Sunday. For those reasons, and for other obvious reasons, when the Saville report was published it was a very sombre occasion, not only for those such as myself who were deeply involved in the work of the community in that particular area, but for those who, throughout the length and breadth of the Troubles, ministered to people of all denominations and political outlooks who were the victims of the tragedy of those years. I use the word sombre because I can think of no other appropriate word which would remove triumphalism, or any other equivalent word, from that occasion.

Like many, many others, I welcome the way in which the report was received in Westminster, and particularly the response of the Prime Minister. I also welcome the way in which this debate—a welcome debate—has been introduced by the two previous speakers, who have brought before us a much wider dimension than the simple details of that report. If I might issue a plea in this debate from my personal perspective, it would be this. While there are details in that exhaustive report which obviously must be addressed, I beg that the House put it into perspective, because it is one attempt—a lengthy attempt—to put one more piece of the jigsaw of the past into perspective. I hope that we do not lose sight of that fact.

Let me tell your Lordships of a conversation that I had a few days after the Saville report was published. It was with a widow of a member of the Ulster Defence Regiment, which played such a pivotal role in the defence of the community during the Troubles. I had buried her husband, and I wondered what her reaction would be to the Saville report. I did not get the reaction that I had anticipated. She said, “Thank God he’s not here to hear that, because if it’s true”—and she accepted the findings—“he would have been ashamed that this had brought such shame on the British Army in the Troubles”. That helps to put into perspective the vast number of brave men and women who took a part in the security forces during our Troubles and who, despite the very dangerous situation in which they worked, were not guilty of some of the things that have been alleged and proved under the Saville report.

In putting it into perspective we must also recognise that, when looking into the past of Northern Ireland, the key word is “victim”. It is not just the victims that we think of immediately—those who have lost loved ones, on whatever side of the community they come from—but the way in which standards suffered. Morality was questioned, and ethical issues were raised which were swept inevitably under the carpet because of the speed and pressure of events which were a tragedy for the entire community. Whenever we come across attempts to try and find out what happened in the past, there will always be mention of the Saville reports of this world. But does a report answer all the questions, or does it by its very nature pose other questions that it cannot answer?

I think, for example, of another part of the diocese where I worked in those days—the small village of Claudy, which was devastated by an IRA bombing. Innocent people representing both communities, and children, were among those who died in that explosion. The justifiable feeling of people such as those in Claudy, and in other areas in Northern Ireland who looked at the expense, length, publicity and attention given to Bloody Sunday was to say, “We too are victims. We, too, suffered. We, too, lost loved ones. We have questions that are not being answered. We have asked society to help us find what they call justice”.

Immediately you are faced with what I have described in the past as the huge ambit of interpretations of what “justice” is. For one person it will be to see a prosecution of those who caused the loss of a loved one, and they will not be satisfied until they see someone in the dock being sentenced for the crime. At the other end of the spectrum, there are those who simply say, “We want to know what happened and how it happened, and we simply ask human questions”. As I have said in this House before, I will never forget the mother of the young policewoman who was killed in the explosion in Newry, who simply said to me, “Archbishop, I have only one question in finding justice”. I asked, “What is it?”. She said, “Did she have her dinner before she died?”. That was a simple human reaction, at the other end from those who seek justice in our courts. That illustrates the huge expanse of what it means to be a victim.

When we debate this report, we have to recognise that it lifted both a veil and a burden from a large part of the community of Londonderry. When I went there as a bishop, I was very conscious on my first visit to the Bogside of how deeply feelings ran about the events of Bloody Sunday. At this distance, therefore, I can understand the reaction to the tribunal’s report when it was published. I also recognise and pay a warm tribute to the actions of my successors, the church leaders in that city, who on the publication of the report went into the Bogside and simply listened, talked and prayed with those most affected, no matter what denomination they came from. As has already been said today in this Chamber, that is another indication of how far society has come.

There are, though, two levels to this discussion. There is the marvellous, courageous political progress made by the politicians in Northern Ireland, but there is also the question of any change of heart among ordinary people leading ordinary lives every day on the ground. One is political progress; the other is the question of human reconciliation. From what I am told, the reaction to Saville has been a huge step in that direction. People have said, “We have found justice. We have an answer to some of our questions”. Even though that is true and there has been general relief, however, one has to think again of the feelings of that widow who said to me, “I feel a bit ashamed that this should cast any aspersion on the reputation of the British Army”.

Moving on from that, I want to quote the words of the noble Baroness, Lady O’Loan—if she will forgive me quoting her—when she wrote,

“there is an ongoing, articulated need for the investigation of so many of the unsolved and of some of the ‘solved’ atrocities of the Troubles”.

I interpret her words to mean that until society—every one of us—finds some way to deal with the past, this is going to go on and on crossing our path.

The Government have said that this is the end to open-ended inquiries. In the light of the expense and everything else involved, we would welcome that. I certainly would. However, I pose another question: with what do we replace that system? What do we say to society will be the alternative to Saville? If we do not come to terms with the sensitive nature of dealing with the past in a place such as Northern Ireland, there will be a constant drip-by-drip exposure and calling of attention to atrocities, to events and to suspicions—the list is endless. Coroners’ courts, investigative journalism and ancillary events to court cases will go on and on not just for our generation but for the generation—the most important one—that will read of the Troubles in history books. Memories are what make us, mostly, what we are, but they also dictate what we could become. I urge Her Majesty’s Government, if they do not see the future of inquiries in the currently accepted sense, to give urgent and honest consideration to what they will replace the inquiries with. What will they place in the vacuum when they take away the system of inquiries into the past?

The Consultative Group on the Past, of which I had the honour to be co-chair, suggested the establishment of what we called a legacy commission that would bring together the threads of detection, reconciliation and building up for the future. We were told that the cost involved in setting up such a commission would be prohibitive, but then we learned of the cost of the Saville report. I urge Her Majesty’s Government to accept that the time is right, through the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, to urge the local parties in the devolved Administration to take the courage to address how they deal with the past on a cross-community basis. For obvious reasons—for political reasons—that is a very sensitive issue. No local political party grasps with open heart the issue of how to deal with the past. However, until there is that sort of agreement and the establishment of some structure to make that possible, the drip-by-drip agony will continue.

I pay tribute to the successive Secretaries of State—many of them sitting in your Lordships’ Chamber—with whom I have had the privilege of working over the years. I believe that they will agree with me that the complexity of the issue is such that it will not be answered by one report, one tribunal or one decision but must be directed to where it matters most. The answer must come from the bottom up, from what society is ready to have and from what society is prepared to do.

Let me finish on this note: a sign of dealing with the past is a gauge of a society’s maturity. The question is whether Northern Ireland is mature enough to find the truth of the past. Saville would indicate, encouragingly, yes. If that is a true indication, I believe that it is up to the party politic in the devolved Administration—encouraged by Westminster and Her Majesty’s Government, supported by the Irish Government—to find a way in which that drip-by-drip agony can come to an end.

Reference was made to South Africa. I have studied the South African truth and reconciliation process but I have also looked at Chile, Argentina, East Timor and other efforts to look into the past. Do you know what conclusion I have reached? When all the dust settles we can forget about legislation; we can forget about laws, tribunals and debates. We end up looking into ordinary human life and the reaction of people to tragedy. Thank God I see—as, I hope, do those who, like me, live and work in that part of the United Kingdom—the seeds of real hope. We must grasp the fact that, until we deal with the past in a holistic manner, we will face other Savilles and other questions that we must answer honestly.