The Far Side of Revenge: Making Peace in Northern Ireland by Deaglan de Bread un (The Collins Press, Cork. 398 pp. £22.99 hardback; £15.99 paperback).
Adams said, `Agree, subject to consultation'. Trimble paused, and said simply, `Yes'
The chairman, Senator George Mitchell, had set midnight on Thursday, April 9th, as a deadline for the parties to conclude a deal, and the British and Irish prime ministers were in Belfast directing negotiations. As the deadline approached, three major issues remained: decommissioning of weapons, the release of paramilitary prisoners, and agreement on a power-sharing executive. With tension rising, the exhausted participants still did not know for certain if Sinn Fein would remain at the negotiating table and there was serious doubt also about the position of the Ulster Unionist Party, who had rejected a draft agreement circulated by the chairman. Time was moving on and peace in the North hung in the balance . . .
Congressman Peter King, a member of the Republican Party in the US and a longtime friend of the very different brand of Irish republicanism, was keeping an eye on developments from afar. He recalls that he spoke with a very senior figure from the Northern Ireland Office on Thursday morning who was concerned about a half-page newspaper advertisement that day, sponsored by a number of Irish-American organisations and calling on the Taoiseach not to "buckle to British pressure" by diluting Articles 2 and 3 of the Irish Constitution. King was asked to call Bertie Ahern about the advert, which was having a "depressing effect" on him. Leading Irish civil servant Dermot Gallagher took the call at about 5 p.m. Belfast time and King asked him to tell the Taoiseach not to worry about the advert: "This is not Irish-America."
The deadline for agreement was midnight on Thursday, April 9th, but it slipped past almost unnoticed. About this time, Congressman King, having received a number of messages that the republicans felt the talks were going against them, called Sinn Fein at Castle Buildings and spoke to a party official who told him things did not look good: the Irish Government was giving in too much on the North-South aspect and there was a feeling that last-minute concessions were being made to David Trimble at the expense of nationalists and republicans. The official called King again in Washington "about an hour or two later" to tell him: "It's really at the breaking-point, because I wouldn't be surprised if Sinn Fein walks out, it's that bad it's gotten." King wondered if he should pass this on to the White House and the normally-understated Sinn Fein man said: "I wish you would, this is very serious."
The Congressman called the White House and spoke to a senior official from the National Security Council who felt the talks were "going better, or not as bad as I said they were". King then received a call some time between 1 a.m. and 2 a.m. Belfast time from a senior Irish official who was "calling me in Washington to find out what Sinn Fein was telling me, when Sinn Fein was, I guess, down the hall from him". He passed on the version of events given by the Sinn Fein official, and the civil servant replied: "Well, we still have the prisoner issue in reserve."
An agreement reached at 3 a.m. in Castle Buildings between the SDLP and the Ulster Unionist Party on a cabinet-style executive with as many as 12 ministers to run Northern Ireland gave the process a critical boost. An earlier UUP-SDLP meeting which involved Jeffrey Donaldson failed to produce agreement, but the Lagan Valley MP was taken out of the equation when he was detailed to attend a discussion on Articles 2 and 3 with the Attorney General, David Byrne. A further UUP-SDLP encounter, minus Donaldson, reached agreement very quickly.
There were several meetings between Sinn Fein and the two prime ministers, one as late as 3 a.m. in which Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness finally hammered out agreement with Tony Blair and Bertie Ahern on the prisoners issue. Republicans say that, once the two governments conceded that all politically-motivated prisoners would get out, then negotiating the two-year time-frame for release was relatively straightforward. Decommissioning of paramilitary weapons had already been dealt with in changes to the draft text for agreement circulated by the talks chairman, George Mitchell, notably by removing the specification that it was an "indispensable part of this agreement". In the rush, someone got their numbers wrong and, although the decommissioning section of the final document has only five clauses, No. 5 appears incorrectly as No. 6.
Irish Government sources have since told me that, during the last night, they still did not know if Sinn Fein was coming on board or not. However Monica McWilliams of the Northern Ireland Women's Coalition was assured by a Sinn Fein negotiator about 3 a.m. that "things were going to be OK" and the republicans would remain in the talks. An hour later, she met an exhausted and exasperated-looking Mo Mowlam, who was uncertain of Sinn Fein's intentions, but the Secretary of State was reassured when McWilliams told her the republicans intended to stay.
By the morning of Good Friday, the food had run out in Castle Buildings and coffee and rolls from a nearby supermarket had become the staple diet. Given the day that was in it, devout Catholics, such as McGuinness and the NIO Minister for Political Development, Paul Murphy, would not eat sandwiches with meat in them.
When it was midday in Belfast, it was only 7 a.m. in Washington. Congressman King was woken by a call from his senior contact on the National Security Council who said, "I told you last night everything was going to be OK." It looked like an agreement would be concluded in the next few hours. King, who had gone to bed thinking it was "all over, you know" simply replied, "Jesus!" He was told the US President had been on the phone to people in the talks "all during the night". When King called the Sinn Fein rooms in Castle Buildings, Adams picked up the phone. "You know we've been asked to swallow an awful lot," Adams said, adding that one of the main reasons they agreed was because Bill Clinton had assured them of continued US involvement.
David Trimble had left Castle Buildings in the small hours of Friday morning, after the deal with the SDLP on an executive, to grab some sleep at the nearby Stormont Hotel. He had to come back before eight o'clock because there was a problem in his own ranks over decommissioning. The unionists discussed the agreement in an atmosphere of high tension for four hours. This became known as "the meeting from hell" and it was reported that one delegate actually fainted from the strain. McGuinness recalled afterwards: "I met a senior civil servant of the Irish Government and I said `Well what's the problem, I've met people who are saying it's this, this and this'." The official was the Taoiseach's adviser, Dr Martin Mansergh, who replied in semi-humorous tones: "It's you, Martin." Mansergh went on to give his assessment that one of the biggest problems the unionists were now facing was the dawning realisation that they might have to go into government with Sinn Fein.
There was stalemate among the UUP negotiating team. The party's general secretary, Jim Wilson, suggested to Trimble that he put the matter to a meeting of his officer board, a more flexible group than the negotiators (there was a bonus in that many of the more moderate negotiators were also members of the officer board.) Many of the party's officers were already in the building and, as the discussion with this group was taking place, Trimble received a phone call from the President of the United States. Trimble told Clinton that his plan was to secure a letter of comfort on the decommissioning issue from Tony Blair.
In his letter to Trimble, the British prime minister said that if the agreement's provisions on decommissioning were shown to be ineffective, the British government would support changes to ensure that people connected with paramilitary organisations which still kept their weapons would not hold political office. Trimble took the view in discussions with his colleagues that, while the situation was not ideal, there would be time to get it right. He said: "Well look, we've got to make a decision; I mean, it has to be Yes, and we'll have to go up now." Donaldson saw the deals on decommissioning and prisoners as a blurring of the lines between terrorism and democracy and made it known to Trimble that he could not support the agreement.
Trimble confirmed to George Mitchell at 4.45 p.m. that his party was on board for a deal. The chairman had learnt over the years, especially as majority leader in the US Senate, not to let the grass grow under a political pact, so with Trimble's consent he convened a talks plenary for 5 p.m. When Trimble's group arrived, Donaldson was not among them. Mallon recalled later that Trimble was "in a white heat of pressure". Others felt he could still go either way. My own recollection of seeing Trimble around this time was of a man with an electric current running through him, his normally-ruddy complexion turned scarlet from excitement and pressure as he dashed from Castle Buildings to a makeshift television studio set up in the car-park. At the plenary, the formalities were gone through and each party leader was asked, "Do you support or not support?" For the first time, television cameras were allowed into the room, which was crowded with delegates, their relatives, friends and former foes, all united now on a platform for peace. Responding to Mitchell, delegates said, "For the Agreement", or "Agree". Adams said, "Agree, subject to consultation". Trimble paused for a moment and said simply, "Yes". After all those years when unionists campaigned under the slogan, "Ulster says No", Ulster had finally said Yes!
The Far Side of Revenge: Making Peace in Northern Ireland by Deaglan de Breadun (The Collins Press, Cork. 398 pp. £22.99 hardback; £15.99 paperback).