Denis Bradley makes illuminating commentary on a variety of matters, including politics, faith, and history, with his distinctive relaxed, creative, and thoughtful approach. However, it’s undeniable that the focal point of his freshly released book, “Peace Comes Dropping Slow”, is that clandestine communication link between the British government and the IRA, key to the advancement towards peace talks.
As we converse in the splendid sitting room of his vintage Victorian abode in Derry, he emphasizes the diverse content of his memoir beyond the undercover communication chain, which dates back to the early 70s. It’s in his daring manoeuvre that we see his profound influence on progressing the peace process.
February 1993 stands out as a pivotal moment when Martin McGuinness, previous IRA leader and later Sinn Féin’s lead negotiator, communicated a message via this surreptitious method involving Bradley and local businessmen Brendan Duddy and Noel Gallagher. The delivered message allegedly stated, “The war is over, but we require your [British] guidance on its cessation.”
Many accept that, while McGuinness could show an IRA readiness to negotiate, it would unlikely be through such explicit language. Nevertheless, that’s the message that reached Prime Minister John Major.
Bradley, now aged 78, reflects in his book that one might argue the message was an ingenious trick to ignite action, whereas in truth it expressed their urge to spark discussions. Even to fan these flickering hopes required immense courage and acertain amount of risk-taking driven by his self-described “overwhelming frustration”. Regardless, Bradley is confident that cessation of conflict is what McGuinness and the majority of the IRA’s leading figures aspired to achieve.
Bradley explains, in his own words, “Profound understanding is often achieved in the role of a skilful mediator or interpreter, primarily through active listening and intermittent intervention. Such persons can interpret situations in a unique way that those directly involved often fail to discern.”
Approximately a week and a half later, a complicated gathering ensued between an MI5 operative known interchangeably as “Fred”, Robert McLarnon, or Colin Ferguson, and McGuinness, along with Gerry Kelly, and a backchannel team providing support. The stipulated condition that Fred should be accompanied by another high-ranking British representative almost led to the cancellation of the meeting. Bradley’s diplomatic prowess was necessary to ensure that the dialogue proceeded.
As per Bradley’s recounting, McGuinness, on behalf of the IRA army council, extracted compressed pieces of paper from his attire, reading the script to Bradley who then conveyed the message to Fred along with other intelligence officers and senior government officials in London. He cautioned sternly, ‘Ensure there are no alterations whatsoever to this.’
Fred’s masterfully skillful narration, even though he may not have had the full mandate, involved a walkthrough of the roots of Anglo-Irish relationship, leading up to his demand for a two-week truce from the IRA to initiate peace discussions.
Fred, claiming he was acting as a representative for Major, gave assurances that peace talks could kick off a week into the ceasefire, either in Scotland or perhaps Norway. Additionally, the late John Chilcot, then serving as the head of the Northern Ireland Office, would join the negotiations after several days.
This led to a subsequent meeting, involving only the backchannel group, in which McGuinness announced the IRA’s accord to observe a two-week ceasefire. Bradley replayed the scenario where McGuinness again displayed crumpled notes from his clothing, representing the IRA army council, and relayed the script to Bradley to pass on to Fred and other intelligence officers and senior government figures in London, with the stern insistence: ‘This text remains unchanged.’
As Bradley wrote, “Right then and there, the two-week ceasefire required to kick off negotiations was declared. At that point, I wanted to stand up and rejoice with a triumphant ‘yes,’ mirroring the actions of successful football managers and golfers. I didn’t. Instead, I savoured the moment internally. Even if it sounds like an afterthought or wishful hypothesis, I quietly offered up a thankful prayer.”
Unquestionably, the subsequent events didn’t progress without a hitch. John Major’s Conservative administration had only a slender advantage and he was wary of dissatisfying the nine parliamentary representatives from the Ulster Unionist Party, whose endorsement could help him sustain his position. The British reaction to the IRA’s proposition was consequently dilatory, bordering on dismissal.
Nonetheless, the spark had been ignited.
Intertwined with these occurrences were clandestine discussions between SDLP chief, John Hume, and Sinn Fein’s leader, Gerry Adams. Meanwhile, newly-appointed taoiseach, Albert Reynolds, unexpectedly chose resolving the conflict in Northern Ireland as his primary endeavour. Both Hume and Reynolds were confidentially apprised of the developments via a secret channel. While the path to peace was gradual, as the book’s title – a nod to Yeats – suggests, the cumulative effects led to the IRA’s initial ceasefire in August 1994 and the consequential definitive peace settlement of Good Friday 1998.
Bradley conjectures that Hume, who faced vehement opposition for relating with Adams, was oblivious to the secret channel. On discovering this separate peace endeavour, Bradley likens the revelation to a parched man finding a water source amidst a vast and inhospitable wilderness.
In private, McGuinness disclosed that he endured harsh objections from extremists within the IRA about the preliminary letter. Bradley admitted that he was unaware of any internal reproach targeted at McGuinness, but he wouldn’t be astonished if there was. Nevertheless, he confessed to feeling no remorse for any trouble he might have caused McGuinness. His interpretation of McGuinness’s intentions was indeed bold, but he was unswervingly sure of McGuinness’s pacifist sentiments.
Bradley also recalls McGuinness approaching him around 1989 or 1990, or more broadly, in the early 1990s, and advocating for peace.
Additionally, Bradley comments on the significant reduction in IRA violence in Derry, where McGuinness held influence, around this period. He mentions an adage suggesting Derry had reached an informal truce about three years prior to the formal ceasefire.
Bradley acknowledges that part of his intent in penning the book was to correct any misconceptions about the backchannel contributions made by Gallagher, Duddy and himself. According to Bradley, he and Gallagher’s roles should be recognised on the same scale as Duddy’s. In his words, he admits to possessing considerable self-esteem.
Their contributions are acknowledged positively in Niall Ó Dochartaigh’s insightful academic book ‘Deniable Contact’, where he holds a professorship in political science and sociology at University College Galway. The book’s foundation lies in the papers submitted to the university by the late Brendan Duddy. However, Bradley believes that most of Ó Dochartaigh’s focus is on Duddy’s work.
His own book ‘Peace Comes Dropping Slow’ holds a different perspective than Ó Dochartaigh’s, as it is written, in Bradley’s words, “from the inside rather than the outside.” His writing is marked by a thoughtful depth and elegant style, reminiscent to fellow Derry writer Seamus Deane’s ‘Reading in the Dark’.
His work provides reflective insights, underscored by warm compassion. It helps resolve a variety of backchannel complexities and accurately portrays the pressures, curiosities, fears and petty jealousies among himself, Gallagher, Duddy and other main characters linked to the peace process.
Bradley has a keen interest in recognising Gallagher’s involvement in the backchannel. Although he indicates Gallagher could be challenging to work with, their relationship was fraternal. He credits Gallagher for his effectiveness in engaging with Albert Reynolds and providing insight into the republican mindset, which greatly assisted the formation of the 1993 Downing Street Declaration, a critical precursor to the ceasefires.
Born in Illies near Buncrana on the Inishowen peninsula, Bradley is originally from Donegal, but most of his life was spent in Derry city. Describing the interconnection between the two areas, he states, “Donegal has continuously been Derry’s saving grace. It welcomes everyone and brings out our humanity.”
His formative years were generally joyful, with his mother operating a guesthouse in Buncrana while his father worked as a bus driver for the then Londonderry and Lough Swilly Railway Company. As the youngest of eight siblings, he also mentions the heartbreaking loss of his sister Frances who died in her childhood.
During his schooling at St Columb’s College in Derry, he was a residential student. His teacher, Hume, influenced him greatly as he never enforced physical punishments that were commonly used at the time. However, in the recorded incidence in his book, he admits having several heated disagreements with Hume, despite maintaining a mutual respect for him. Bradley declared that he was the most taken aback when he chose to follow the spiritual calling and become a priest after he finished school, eventually finding himself in the Irish College, Rome.
Most of his ministry in Derry was concentrated in Long Tower parish, which was predominantly inhabited by the working class. In addition to his services as a priest, he was also a counsellor and established shelters for the homeless as well as rehabilitative centres for those suffering from drug and alcohol addiction.
During the troubling period known as ‘the Troubles,’ he was a junior priest and his duties often involved dealing with the high rate of killings in his small locality or attempting to prevent further deaths. On ‘Bloody Sunday,’ he was one of the eyewitnesses to the horrific event in Glenfada Park where intensified gunfire resulted in the death of four out of the 14 victims. One of his memories from that day involves confronting a soldier, but he remains unsure if it was Soldier F, the only serviceman accused of committing two murders and five attempted murders.
He also recollects the occasion when paratroopers forced him to move away from the area after the shooting had stopped until an officer commanded them to release him, saying “Let the padre go.” He has detested the term ‘padre’ ever since. The shock, stillness, and the following days spent by the sides of the coffins of the victims in their homes are still vivid in his memory.
Bradley’s job as a junior priest during ‘the Troubles’ was deeply marked by frequent occurrences of death and his desperate effort to prevent them. The book contains many such harrowing stories, including his experiences from Bloody Sunday that may deeply affect readers as they once did the priest. In one such event documented, Bradley relates about a violent encounter between the IRA and the British army wherein three soldiers were injured, and two young republicans, Colm Keenan and Eugene McGillan lost their lives. Bradley had the solemn duty to recite the last prayers over the lifeless bodies of the two young men.
In a past encounter, Bradley, the parish priest, had to engage with a young British captain who came by his house, distressed after his first killing. He believed he had shot either Keenan or McGillan and was seeking solace. Bradley listened to the young man as he expressed his remorse and trauma over the incident.
Another poignant incident involved a British army bomb disposal soldier who lost his life due to an explosion. Bradley was summoned to pray for the mangled remains of the unfortunate soldier. The name of the soldier remained undisclosed to Bradley until the publication of the Lost Lives book, which chronicled the fatalities of the Troubles. This stirred feelings of regret within Bradley for not exerting more effort into identifying the deceased and perhaps, informing his family that he was there to provide comfort in his dying moments.
Thereafter, he had an interaction with a guilt-ridden young man who admitted to setting a bomb. According to the young man, he had assembled explosives in the past, but didn’t believe they had claimed any lives. The pair shared a conversation over a cup of tea, punctuated by lengthy silences and the heavy emotional atmosphere.
Such encounters reaffirmed Bradley’s stance against violence and bolstered his commitment to working for peace, resulting in his enduring participation in the peacekeeping backchannel.
Among these somber memories, Bradley has recollections of happier times too. Once, Bradley had a visit from Mary Wilson, an English teacher who wished to volunteer in Africa. He proposed an alternative, suggesting she could participate locally in his drug and rehabilitation initiatives. She agreed. That began their love story, leading to their 43-year-long marriage. They have three children; Laura, a cancer nurse specialist in Manchester; Eoin, a political advisor at the Scottish National Party; and Tom, a financial advisor in Derry. They also enjoy spending time with their four grandchildren. Bradley takes pride and solace in the fact that his sons Eoin and Tom, along with himself, support Derry City football team enthusiastically. Additionally, he finds golf to be a relaxing hobby.
Bradley is deeply troubled by the transgressions within the Catholic Church, but maintains that his faith and the church’s future course are central to his life. He affirms that he would have continued to serve as a priest if marriage had been allowed. Whilst he admires Pope Francis, Bradley expresses concern about those within the church desiring a more conservative direction. Bradley demonstrates dismay about the diminishing presence of faith in society, asserting that it’s leading to societal discontent. He believes this materialistic worldview is quite peculiar.
During his tenure as the inaugural vice-chairman of the Northern Ireland Policing Board, Bradley was subjected to threats and an extreme incident in 2005, when he was brutally assaulted by a masked assailant armed with a baseball bat whilst watching a football match at a pub in Derry.
Partnering with ex-Church of Ireland archbishop Robin Eames, Bradley led the Consultative Group on the Past, which in 2009 established the mould for all subsequent, albeit thus far unsuccessful, efforts to address the enduring scars and aftermath of the conflict.
It’s been fifteen years and the legacy issue remains unresolved, with the latest British government legislation being dismissed by the Irish government and majority of parties. Bradley indicates that had the British and Irish administrations collaborated effectively, this issue could have been reconciled long ago and yet it remains unresolved.
His tenure as the initial vice-chairman of the Northern Ireland Policing Board, established in 2001 as an aspect of the Patten recommendations on police reform, alongside Professor Sir Desmond Rea as the primary chairman, were largely accomplished although it came at a cost. A brief disagreement between Bradley and Rea was swiftly resolved. Together, they played a crucial role in facilitating widespread support for the newly formed Police Service of Northern Ireland. This effort culminated in Sinn Féin endorsing policing and joining the board in 2006.
Denis Bradley faced potential harm or danger while completing his duties, the most severe of which was in 2005: he was assaulted by a dissident while viewing a football game in a Derry pub. He was brutally attacked by a man hiding behind a mask and sporting a baseball bat.
Support was abundant within his town, and he recalls how a few lads presented themselves with insights into his attacker’s identity. However, he chose to remain unaware. He related his experience to confession, wherein it’s crucial to learn to put things behind.
Regarding dissidents, he voiced his wish for their retreat, criticizing them as not beneficial to themselves or anyone else.
As a whole, Bradley is hopeful about what future holds. He strongly suggests that unionism should take part in dialogues with nationalism to decide what lies ahead. He leans towards the idea of a united Ireland eventually, emphasising his preference for a solution-oriented unity rather than an enforced one.
Bradley holds the belief that partition is a flawed solution and forecasts its continual failure. Drawing from his extensive and memorable life, he notes that genuine progress is achieved when the British and Irish governments cooperate harmoniously. Furthermore, he asserts that without confronting the extreme facets, addressing the broader issues remains impossible.
The book ‘Peace Comes Dropping Slow: My Life in the Troubles’, authored by Denis Bradley, is brought to the readers by Merrion Press.