The Irish War of Independence as seen by the international press

As the first World War ended, the victorious nations assembled in Paris in January 1919 to rearrange the world “in the interests of peace”– in reality for many to expand their domains. There were many opportunities, such as the carve-up of the remains of the Ottoman Empire. However, in the home territory of one of the most important victors, discontent was rumbling. This was in Ireland, where on January 21st, 1919, the recently elected Sinn Féin MPs met to form their own parliament and affirm the declaration of an independent Irish Republic that had been proclaimed at Easter 1916. (It also sent a delegation, which was roundly ignored, to the Peace Conference in Paris). Coincidentally, on the same day, Volunteers attacked and shot dead two RIC constables at Soloheadbeg, Co Tipperary. This marked the start of a ruthless guerrilla war that, every month, gained in intensity.

The Restoration of Order in Ireland Act (ROIA) of August 1920 maintained strict control over the press in Ireland. The Irish Times, then representing the Irish Unionist viewpoint, generally reported the official version. The other principal Irish newspapers had to tread a fine line between reporting the truth and official suppression. Always condemning IRA violence, they mostly reported fairly on Sinn Féin activities, while revealing the violence of the crown forces. In December 1920, the editor and owners of the Freeman’s Journal were sentenced to one year’s imprisonment under the ROIA.

The Dublin Castle press office, directed by proactive army captains, produced news, laced with heavy-handed propaganda, usually on the theme that “we have the murder-machine by the throat” and that the British were on the “verge of winning”. It issued an official weekly summary that was full of crude falsehoods.

Reputation for accuracy

By contrast, the Irish Bulletin, a basic news sheet produced by the grandly named Dáil Propaganda Department, garnered a reputation for accuracy. Circulated internationally, it presented the Republican view of events. For journalists in Britain and on the continent, it provided a source of information (an alternative to the Dublin Castle-fed British news agencies). The Propaganda Department also spread the Republican message in Europe, North America, Australia and South Africa.

RIC controversy ‘will not help’ FG in town sacked by Black and Tans

---

Victoria Cross winner turned IRA man honoured a century on

---

RIC row: ‘Shameful’ if spirit and tolerance of 2016 events lost

---

As fatalities and reprisals increased during 1920, interest in Ireland grew and many British, American and continental journalists arrived in Dublin to see for themselves. Many of these contacted Sinn Féin, who treated them courteously. There was also the allure of gaining access to clandestine interviews with leading Republican figures. Initially, much of the press in Britain reported the official version, with little interpretation, that it was a police war against the criminal conspiracy of the “Sinn Féin murder gang”.

a cabinet member wrote of his colleagues that the sensational press reports in Ireland 'upsets their nerves'

Some, like the Morning Post, could be relied on to mindlessly repeat official propaganda throughout the conflict. Others, like the Manchester Guardian and the Daily News, took an independent view and became increasingly critical of government policy on Ireland. Many presented the IRA violence as wrong but came to see it as the consequence of misgovernment and repression. As 1920 merged into 1921, unease grew in Britain. The British Empire in those days was seen as existing on the basis of justice, equity and freedom. The news from Ireland was scandalous to public opinion – it cut away the whole basis and notion of empire. Even as the chief secretary for Ireland, Sir Hamar Greenwood, stonewalled in Parliament denying press accounts of atrocities, a cabinet member wrote of his colleagues that the sensational press reports in Ireland “upsets their nerves”.

A particular feature of the continental press (particularly in France and Italy) was the profusion of weekly issues or supplements where important events were portrayed in illustrated form. Over the course of 1919-1921, these periodicals began to dramatically report some of the key incidents during the Irish War of Independence. These were not necessarily accurate, as they mostly accepted the British press agencies’ narrative of events (which in turn relayed the Dublin Castle viewpoint).

There were exceptions. Le Petit Journal of Paris, in the edition of September 19th, 1920, depicted Terence MacSwiney, lord mayor of Cork, during his hunger-strike, with a Capuchin priest ministering to him, captioned “Le Martyr Irlandais”. MacSwiney’s hunger strike and death resulted in huge international sympathy for the Republican cause. It even moved one Benito Mussolini, editor of the Fascist daily newspaper Il Popullo d’Italia, to report sympathetically on MacSwiney. The newspaper gave strong support to Sinn Féin, linking Ireland’s struggle to Italy’s own struggle for independence.

Flashed around the world

Unofficial reprisals, the burning of Ireland’s towns by crown forces, gained in intensity over the second half of 1920. The sack of Balbriggan on September 20th gained notoriety, not least because it was near Dublin, thus easy for journalists to visit. Scores of houses were burnt and much of the population had to abandon the town. The shocking news flashed around the world. La Tribuna Illustrata showed women abandoning the ruins of the town, entitling it “Il terrore in Irlanda”.

In October 1920, after Balbriggan, the Daily Mail wrote: “Half the world is coming to feel that our Government is condoning vendetta and turning a blind eye upon the execution of lawless reprisals . . . the slur on our nation’s good name becomes insufferable.”

We are getting an odious reputation, poisoning our relations with the United States - Winston Churchill

Reprisals continued, nevertheless, and became official after the introduction of martial law in Munster in 1921. The news got worse for the British at the end of 1920 following the assassinations of Bloody Sunday and the shock of the Kilmichael ambush where the IRA managed to kill 17 of the elite Auxiliaries.

The British were particularly sensitive to American opinion. Britain, previously the dominant world power, was in decline, and felt vulnerable to the United States and its growing authority over the new post-war world. They saw the US president and administration as vulnerable to influence by millions of Irish-Americans, even though in reality, the new administration of President Warren Harding had no interest in Ireland.

Some journalists in the US took a particular interest in Ireland, notably Francis Hackett of the New Republic and Carl Ackermann of the Philadelphia Public Ledger, both of whom explained the Irish conflict with depth and insight. The remaining press took a more neutral stance. The New York Times account of the burning of Cork on December 13th, 1920, reported $15,000,000 in property loss; it told of large of parties of Auxiliaries marching through the streets, holding up pedestrians, following an ambush of their colleagues. There was an element of briathar saor, though: “Cork is swept by incendiary fires”. There was no direct statement as to who did this, although it was possible to infer who.

In general, most American newspapers took the feed from the press agencies uncritically, but the real nature of the crown forces’ atrocities managed to seep through. A further blow to British reputation was caused by the American Commission on Conditions in Ireland, whose damning conclusions of March 1921 included that the Irish people “. . . are at the mercy of Imperial British forces which . . . have instituted in Ireland a terror” . . . That begetter of the Auxiliaries, Winston Churchill, advised his cabinet colleagues in May 1921 that it was time for a respite in Ireland, as the news from there was damaging “the interests of this country all over the world; we are getting an odious reputation, poisoning our relations with the United States”.

Negotiate a truce

By mid-1921, as the IRA mounted increasingly sophisticated ambushes, the British cabinet vacillated between a drive to intensify the war (“stick, not carrot” and the urge to negotiate a truce. British generals in Ireland were still insisting that just another four months of their campaigning would bring victory.

In the peace camp were the Liberals, unhappy about the British atrocities in Ireland and the opprobrium it brought both nationally and internationally. Oscillating between a policy of flooding Ireland with troops and instituting peace talks, the British opted for talks.

On June 24th, Lloyd George invited Éamon de Valera and James Craig, the Northern premier, to go to London to explore the possibility of a settlement. In response, de Valera called a conference for July 4th in Dublin to discuss Lloyd George’s proposal for London talks. Prime minister Craig refused to come. De Valera, “spokesman of the nation”’, as he described himself, met the southern unionists at the Mansion House in Dublin. Another meeting was held on July 8th. Gen Macready (commander-in-chief, Ireland) met de Valera there and terms for a truce were agreed. In the months that followed, negotiations led to the Treaty of December 1921, which resulted in a limited form of independence for the 26 counties. This dominion status granted under the Treaty, as opposed to a Republic, was the principal cause of the Civil War, which broke out six months later.

Michael B Barry has written a trilogy of books on the Irish Revolution (1916, the War of Independence and the Civil War). His new book, An Illustrated History of The Irish Revolution, 1916-1923, will be published next autumn