Fifty years ago this week this country teetered on the brink of an all-out conflagration that would have seen the Irish Army invade the North as the Battle of the Bogside raged. The consequences, in terms of loss of human life and this State’s future prospects in the world, are incalculable.
That it did not happen was due mainly to the character and decency of then-taoiseach Jack Lynch, who fought a rearguard action against the most powerful members of his government, Neil Blaney, Charles Haughey and Kevin Boland. They, and others in the cabinet, saw the events of that week as an opportunity to achieve the goal of a united Ireland no matter the cost.
At the time and since, Lynch was widely portrayed as a vacillating and weak leader who couldn’t make up his mind about what to do and shirked the decisive action being urged on him by his colleagues. In fact the opposite is the case and the avoidance of outright civil war on the island, as happened in Yugoslavia, owes everything to his courage and political skill in outmanoeuvring his reckless cabinet opponents.
The combination of emotional relief and practical help for nationalist refugees appeased the hardline element of the cabinet for a time
In August 1969, as dramatic pictures of rioting in Derry filled television screens in Ireland and all over the world, Lynch summoned an emergency cabinet meeting on August 13th. It was to be the first of nine bruising meetings in eight days that saw bitter divisions emerge between ministers.
Unprepared Army
This political battle took place against the background of widespread outrage among nationalist people, North and South, at the sufferings of the Catholic population in the North at the hands of the police and the loyalist gangs who drove thousands of families from their homes.
Lynch’s reluctance to sanction military intervention was bolstered by a report from his minister for defence, Jim Gibbons, who pointed out that the Army was utterly unprepared for an invasion in terms of manpower and equipment. It led to a compromise whereby the Army would establish field hospitals along the Border and the reserve was called up.
This bought time politically by giving the impression but not the substance of dramatic action. The combination of emotional relief and practical help for nationalist refugees appeased the hardline element of the cabinet for a time.
If Lynch had not prevailed it is doubtful if we could have followed the road to membership of the EU and the creation of the prosperous and outward-looking State we have today
The precariousness of Lynch’s hold over his cabinet was illustrated by the famous address to the nation he made on the night of August 13th. Blaney insisted on a much more strongly worded address than the taoiseach had initially planned. The final version called for intervention of a United Nations peace-keeping force and a commitment by the British to open negotiations about the constitutional position of the North. It exacerbated an already tense situation but it was the minimum Lynch felt he had to do to retain control of his government.
Just how isolated he was at this point is illustrated by a story told by then-RTÉ deputy head of news Des Fisher, who helped the taoiseach prepare for his televised broadcast. The only person Lynch consulted was his wife, Máirín, whom he phoned to read her his final draft before going on air.
He also asked Fisher what he thought would happen if he was to order the Army into the North as some of his advisers were urging. “I said I thought they would get about 20 miles into Down or Derry before they would be massacred in a fight with the British. He smiled wanly at my answer and said he had come to the same conclusion himself.”
Political emotionalism
In the days that followed the pressure on Lynch ebbed and flowed. Boland announced his resignation to cabinet colleagues in protest at the lack of direct action but was ultimately persuaded to stay by president Éamon de Valera, whose clinching argument was that if he went ahead he could precipitate the fall of the government and the coming to power of Fine Gael.
Apart from his wife, Lynch had one other confidant in whom he placed complete trust. That was Ken Whitaker, then the governor of the Central Bank, who was on holiday in Carna, Co Galway. A garda knocked on his door early on the morning of August 15th to tell him the taoiseach wanted to speak to him urgently. In the days before mobile phones, or even house phones in many parts of the country, Whitaker was taken to Carna Garda station, from where he rang Lynch.
In a lengthy conversation Whitaker urged the taoiseach to move cautiously and avoid the temptation to cash in on political emotionalism. He warned Lynch against allowing his government to appear being “driven before the emotional winds fanned by utterly unrepresentative organisations such as Sinn Féin” and he also criticised the “quite disproportionate publicity” they were getting from RTÉ.
Ultimately Lynch prevailed in August 1969 but only just. His opponents shifted their focus in the following months to channelling money and arms to the emerging Provisional IRA. That led to the arms crisis and the sacking of Blaney and Haughey but the truly dangerous moment for the stability of this State came in August 1969. If Lynch had not prevailed it is doubtful if we could have followed the road to membership of the European Union and the creation of the prosperous and outward-looking State we have today.