IN THE SPRING of 1887, the London Times published a series of sensational articles on Parnellism and Crime, accusing the Home Rule leader Charles Stewart Parnell of conspiring with violent revolutionaries.
On the morning of the reading of the Second Home Rule Bill, a facsimile letter was published, apparently linking Parnell directly with the murders, almost seven years earlier, of Lord Frederick Cavendish and Thomas Burke in Phoenix Park. The British government appointed a special judicial commission to examine Parnell's putative guilt. On February 21st, 1889, the journalist Richard Pigott, who had been the source of the damning letter, was exposed by Parnell's lawyer as a forger. Pigott fled to Spain and committed suicide. Parnell's prestige and popularity reached their highest point.
Pigott's unmasking was one of the most dramatic political events in modern Irish history. The Irish Times gave over a page and a half of dense type to a virtually verbatim account of Pigott's cross-examination by Parnell's barrister, Sir Charles Russell. Much of it reads like the script for an old-fashioned courtroom drama. At the key point, Russell confronts Pigott with his spelling in another document of the word "hesitancy". Pigott spelled it "hesitency". "Have you noticed", Russell asks, "that the writer of the... alleged forged letter spells it the same way?"
Four days later, The Irish Times carried the headlines "Disappearance of Pigott" and "A Written Confession That The Letters Were Forged". On March 2nd, under the headline "Pigott's Disappearance", it reported that the forger could not be found at "any hotel of standing in Paris". Two days later, the headline was "The Suicide of Pigott: Full Confirmation".
Police attack strikers in Dublin outside Liberty Hall in 1913. Two civilians were killed. Photograph: Getty Images
EARLY 20TH CENTURY Dublin had some of the worst urban poverty in Europe. Serious social unrest had been brewing for some time, with workers, under the leadership of James Larkin and James Connolly, building the Irish Transport and General Workers' Union, and employers, led by William Martin Murphy, forming the Dublin Employers' Federation.
With the beginning of the inevitable clash, as workers in Murphy's United Tramways Company went on strike in August 1913 in support of two colleagues sacked for refusing to leave the ITGWU, The Irish Times was phlegmatic. Its headlines noted "Majority Remain Loyal; Good Service Maintained; No Disorder In Streets". But the Great Lockout, as the dispute became known, would last until February 1914, when the half-starved workers finally capitulated. From the Lockout emerged the Irish Citizen Army and modern Irish trade unionism.
The Irish Times, in common with the Catholic Church, Sinn Féin and the Irish Party, opposed the workers. But, on October 7th, it published George Russell's Open Letter to the Masters of Dublin, accusing the employers of an "insolence and ignorance" equalled only by "your inhumanity".
THE ASSASSINATION of the heir-apparent of the Austro-Hungarian empire was a key moment in Irish, as well as in European history. The Great War, which it triggered, shaped the course of events in Ireland for much of the next century. Over 200,000 men from Ireland, as well as many thousands of Irish emigrants in England, enlisted to serve in what would become the bloodiest conflict the world had ever seen. Politics in Ireland were changed forever. The Home Rule Bill, which was passed into law in August, was suspended, leaving the way open to demands for Irish independence to be achieved by more violent means.
The Irish Times welcomed the war, not just because it was caught up in the general wave of enthusiasm, but because it hoped, rather ironically, that war would heal the deep divisions between nationalists and unionists in Ireland. In its edition of August 5th, the paper rejoiced that "at last the call to arms has come". By November 1918, with 26 million dead and Ireland headed for a violent revolution, there would be little room for joy.
The Weekly Irish Times reports on the Easter Rising were published in book form in 1917.
FOR MUCH of Easter Week 1916, The Irish Times was the only newspaper on the streets, even though, because of censorship and the breakdown of communications systems, its ability to report on the fighting was extremely limited. Apart from the proclamation of martial law, it filled its pages with "special articles of literary interest and some items of local events." By Saturday May 2nd, however, it was able to carry a headline on "The Sinn Féin Rising: Scenes And Incidents In Dublin Streets" along with a great deal of vivid detail.
On Saturday May 13th, the Weekly Irish Times was published as a special triple issue, with extensive details of the fighting, lists of casualties, the names of prisoners sentenced and deported and photographs of the main protagonists. It achieved a "colossal" circulation and became a standard reference work on the history of the Rising.
OF ALL THE figures who emerged from the dramatic episodes of the War of Independence, the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921, and the Civil War that ensued, none captured the public imagination more than Michael Collins. Even The Irish Times, which was editorially opposed to the demand for Irish independence, enthusiastically acknowledged Collins's charisma. "Rumour", wrote Robert Smyllie (who later became the paper's Editor), "gave him a reputation for something like witchcraft, and his exploits, real and supposed, rang throughout the world. Suddenly, the Truce was declared. The next thing we know was that he was taking tea with the British cabinet in Downing street, and within a few months he was the Chairman of the Irish Provisional Government - virtually the first Irish premier since Grattan." The paper's shock at Collins's assassination in an ambush in West Cork reflected that of the wider public, including many of those on the Republican side. The Irish Times was finding itself more in tune with the broad national mood.
THE HEADLINE in The Irish Times of March 10th, 1932, said it all: "The Old Order Changeth". At 26 minutes past four the previous afternoon, the Dáil had elected Eamon de Valera, leader of Fianna Fáil, as president of the Executive Council of the Irish Free State.
It was the moment at which Irish democracy became fully established. Less than a decade after the end of a bitter civil war, and after an election campaign in which de Valera was characterised as a pro-IRA communist intent on Bolshevising the State, the leader of the defeated republican faction took power peacefully and democratically. De Valera was elected to head a minority administration supported by the Labour Party.
There had been rumours of a plot by disaffected Free State army forces to stage a coup. The Irish Times reported that the streets outside the Dáil were "filled with exuberant crowds, cheering, boohing and singing", while the atmosphere inside the chamber was one of "tense excitement". After the vote, when de Valera returned from receiving his office from the governor-general, his colleagues were waiting for him on the government benches. As de Valera, "nervous and pale", went to fill the one vacant place, there was, reported the paper, "another mighty roar transcending all that had been heard previously", followed by "hysterical cries of 'Up Dev!' from the gallery."
The Irish Times, which had strongly endorsed the outgoing government of William Cosgrave and warned that a de Valera victory would mean that "the Free State will be isolated from civilisation", was predictably less enthusiastic. An editorial on March 23rd compared de Valera's election to a "costly pageant" that was necessary for the populace to discover that "the Emperor had no clothes".
WHILE THE greatest conflict in human history was raging in the world beyond, The Irish Times had been waging a small war of its own. Though the paper threw its editorial support behind de Valera's decision to keep Ireland neutral, it was unashamedly sympathetic to the cause of the Allies, and in particular to those of its readers who had relations serving in the British forces. This made it a target for relentless government censorship, which often went far beyond the avowed aims of suppressing partisan comment.
The paper was prevented from reporting anti-Nazi political speeches, anti-semitic incidents in Ireland, or the basic details of Nazi atrocities. A photograph of a Local Defence Force rally on College Green was censored to remove the royal coat of arms from the old Irish parliament building in the background. The paper was not even allowed to report that, on Adolf Hitler's death, the flag on Government Buildings was not flown at half-mast.
The editor, Robert Smyllie, responded with devices like referring to Irish generals in the British forces as "Japanese" and describing a naval attack as a "boating accident". On Victory in Europe (VE) day, Smyllie made his grandest gesture of defiance, arranging seven photographs (of King George VI, General Eisenshower, Field Marshal Alexander, Josef Stalin, Field Marshal Montgomery, Winston Churchill and President Roosevelt) in a V for victory shape on the front page.
The 1948 coalition cabinet after Mr John A Costello became the new Taoiseach in February. (Standing from left) D Morrissey, Minister for Industry and Commerce; J Everett, Minister for Posts and Telegraphs; P McGilligan, Minister for Finance; J Blowick, Minister for Lands; Gen. S MacEoin, Minister for Justice and James Dillon, Minister for Agriculture. (Seated, left to right): Dr Noel Browne, Minister for Health; Sean McBride, Minister for External Affairs; William Norton, Minister for Social Welfare; J A Costello; Gen. R Mulcahy, Minister for Education; Dr TF O'Higgins, Minister for Defence; T J Murphy, Minister for Local Government. Photograph: Keystone/Getty Images
AS A PAPER with its origins in a minority culture, The Irish Times was one of the very few platforms in independent Ireland for criticism of the closeness of Church and State. The tensions inherent in the Catholic Church's dominance of policy in the areas of health, education and sexual morality came to a head with the "Mother and Child" controversy in 1951.
The young and dynamic Minister for Health, Noel Browne, who had joined the inter-party coalition cabinet on his first day in the Dáil in 1948, decided to introduce a modest welfare programme for mothers and young children. The Catholic hierarchy informed the Taoiseach privately that the scheme was "in direct opposition to the rights of the family". When Browne failed to win over the bishops, or to secure the full backing of his cabinet colleagues, he had no option but to resign.
Having received an assurance from Irish Times Editor RM Smyllie that he would publish the documents even if the government attempted to stop him, Browne sent Smyllie 16 letters between himself, his party leader Sean MacBride, the Taoiseach John A. Costello and members of the hierarchy. In what was seen at the time as a shocking act, The Irish Times published the correspondence, marking a significant advance in journalistic willingness to challenge authority and reveal State secrets.
Under the simple rubric "Minister Releases Correspondence", and accompanied by a statement from Browne to the effect that he wished to "dispel the malicious rumours concerning him that have been circulated throughout the country", the paper open up the private world of Church-State relations. Though the Church was victorious in the "Mother and Child" conflict, (Costello declared that "I obey my church authorities and will continue to do so, in spite of The Irish Times") its authority would never be quite so absolute again.
THE SUB-HEADLINE on The Irish Times front page noted that US president John F. Kennedy was "Welcomed Like a homecoming hero" on his arrival in Dublin for a state visit. This was no ordinary official trip: the emphasis in the coverage, as in the popular reception, was on Kennedy's Irishness. A report from the streets recorded "an old fruit-seller who had forsaken her stand for hours to see Mr Kennedy pass" as remarking that "he's a credit to our country".
Kennedy's visit came at a time when Irish people were looking for images to form a bridge between a past of traditional values and a future of bright modernity. The economic revolution being engineered by Taoiseach Sean Lemass and the civil servant TK Whitaker was opening up Ireland to investment by multi-national companies. Television and youth culture were bringing new ideas and icons.
In the half-page photograph that was printed on page seven of The Irish Times, Kennedy's youthful movie-star glamour and his beautifully coiffed and elegantly clothed persona stand in stark contrast to Eamon de Valera's stern and evidently aged appearance. The President who had claimed that "the torch has passed to a new generation" clearly outshone the one who embodied the older generation. Hence the enthusiasm of the crowds whose rapture was such, as the paper reported, that JFK waved "almost shyly, as though he were overawed by the never-ending sea of fluttering flags and smiling faces." There were, however, "slightly derisive" cheers for "a messenger boy who cycled past" ahead of the presidential motorcade, "not a whit abashed and obviously very proud of the USA poster fluttering from the front of his bike."
The front page of The Irish Times was dominated by a large photograph of a body lying on the street in Derry's Bogside district, covered in a blanket, the feet sticking out from beneath its folds, and a pair of shoes placed neatly beside them, as if their owner had simply lain down for a rest.
The killing of 13 civilian civil rights marchers by members of Parachute Regiment of the British Army (a 14th died later) was a key moment in the escalation of the Northern Ireland conflict whose intensity had been building since 1968. The Bloody Sunday killings, as they quickly became known, enraged Catholic opinion throughout the island and galvanised support for the IRA. 1972 would become the worst year of the Troubles, with almost 500 deaths - twice as many as in the previous three years of the conflict.
The official version of events was that the marchers had been killed when the paratroops returned fire from snipers. The Irish Times, in its lead story, expressed extreme scepticism about this contention, writing that "eyewitness reports claimed that the paratroopers opened fire first and fired indiscriminately into the large crowd".
The paper also carried on the front page a vivid eyewitness account from its own reporter Nell McCafferty. She noted that, early in the day, a soldier had greeted her and another reporter with the words "God morning, folks, it's a fine day for killing." She described her experience in the Rossville Street area as the killings were in progress: "I ran into Colmcille court, a car park behind the maisonettes, and burst into a woman's home. As I lay on the floor, shots rang out and there was a simultaneous knocking on the door as men cried 'For Jesus sake, missus, let us in, they're shooting' ... I looked out the window and beyond the picket fence of the back garden a man lay on the ground."
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