Brave Omagh families help get the scales of justice back in balance

BEFORE August 15, 1998, when asked to identify the worst atrocities of the Troubles, or simply to justify their positions, Northern Protestants would reel off Bloody Friday, the Shankill, the La Mon massacre, Warrenpoint or Enniskillen. Catholics pointed to Bloody Sunday, McGurk’s bar, Greysteel, Loughinisland or the Dublin and Monaghan bombings.

It is inevitable – and right – that mass killings stick in communal memories. No one should be expected to forget, even if we are called on to forgive. Still, to see the Troubles as simply a series of “spectaculars” means we cannot see the wood for the trees because almost daily, at times, some mother’s son, some son’s mother was picked off for being the “wrong” religion, having the “wrong” views, being in the “wrong” place or doing the “wrong” job.

Bearing in mind that caveat, however, few would argue that at 3.04pm that August day, things didn’t change. It wasn’t quite the worst day of the Troubles in terms of scale but the cross-community nature of the victims – Protestant, Catholic, Irish, British, even Spanish– and the fact that it came four months after the Good Friday Agreement, when all those things were supposed to be over, altered perceptions of terrorism. Never before had Ireland stood so united in its horror and sheer revulsion.

Even now, I cannot erase from my mind the unbroadcast footage shown to me that evening in RTÉ’s studios – of human blood trickling down an unremarkable street in an unremarkable town and of body parts shovelled up with as much dignity as the situation could afford.

If there was some comfort to be drawn, it was that even more of the hundreds of people in Market Street that day did not succumb to their injuries. And, in hindsight, Omagh was perhaps the first line in the last stanza of the Troubles.

For the families of the 29 victims, including the pregnant mother of twins, though, it was just the beginning of an odyssey, an 11-year cry for help and for justice. It still goes on. Their powerful story is recorded in an important new book, Aftermath, to be published the week after next.

Last week, though, after a decade of bureaucratic bungling and judicial farce – not to mention political cynicism – a sort of justice was done. A Belfast judge, Declan Morgan, ruled that Real IRA mastermind Michael McKevitt, Liam Campbell, Colm Murphy and Seamus Daly were indeed the men behind Omagh and awarded damages against them.

As many of us are aware, and as Aftermath sensitively records, many of the Omagh families live with the consequences of the bomb on a daily basis – not just the empty chair at the table, but the cruel effects of depression on mental and physical health and on relationships.

So when Mr Justice Morgan’s verdict was read out last week, most people will have just given thanks for anything that brings not cash, but a measure of psychological relief from the torture that has been afflicted on them, the thought that those liable had gotten away with it.

The ruling has not been universally welcomed, however. Some with pretty blatant political motives have always sought to undermine the families’ civil action. Others have genuine concerns about centuries of legal precedent being undermined. The legal traditionalists complain that men’s reputations lie in tatters on account of a legal process that requires a much lower burden of proof than a criminal trial. They argue that the men have, in effect, been tried twice on the same charge without any new evidence being entered.

Powerful interests, not just those of ordinary Omagh families, are at work, they claim. Some would also query any process, such as Diplock courts in the North or the Special Criminal Court in the South, which imposes penalties without reference to a jury.

Whether politically motivated or not, such critics deserve an answer.

Take juryless trials. No one would argue these are ideal but the reason they were used during the Troubles – and still are – is conveniently overlooked: namely, the fact that widespread intimidation of witnesses and jurors in close-knit communities where paramilitaries hold sway results in perverse verdicts.

If journalists still fear for their lives – as is being argued by one Sunday Tribune journalist currently who refuses to reveal her Real IRA sources – then why shouldn’t jurors or witnesses called to testify against the godfathers?

Is justice being done if society cannot impose its penalty on wrongdoers because they have the power to corrupt the system? In some ways, that has been the beauty of the civil action against those responsible for the Omagh bomb. It is all too easy – as any number of campaigns for prisoner release have shown – for the terrorist spindoctors to portray lads who love their mummies or simple country folk (who just happen to be killers) as Davids against British or Irish Goliaths. Unfortunately, many conventional counter-terrorism measures provide only pyrrhic victories that ultimately only further the terrorists’ support base and cause.

A civil action, however, juxtaposes a cold-blooded murderer with a mother who lost her son. The Omagh families have succeeded in turning the tables on the terrorists by humanising their plight while dehumanising the Real IRA. The perpetrators were unable to paint their opponents in court as large oppressive forces hostile to humanity, or even civil liberties for that matter.

The Omagh families’ campaign has also frustrated the Real IRA’s fundraising events by orchestrating peaceful demonstrations outside the venues in the glare of TV cameras. It has publicly shamed supporters in the press, which has led to them being ostracised in their communities. Rather than being cowed into silence or submission, ordinary people have proved they can fight back – without resort to arms.

ALONG with conventional security successes, the families have been responsible for curtailing the growth of the Real IRA. The campaign has cut off the fuel of terrorism (positive publicity) and dried up the oil that greases the cogs of the terrorism mechanism (support and recruitment). The Real IRA, while still obviously dangerous as we have seen recently, is not the threat it was prior to the Omagh writ being issued.

The civil case has not been an attempt to subvert conventional law enforcement mechanisms, therefore, but is complementary to it. Potential witnesses from communities where terrorists are harboured might be reluctant to cooperate with the police. But they have less compunction against involving themselves in a civil action which is viewed as helping their own.

Nor have fears that the civil action might prejudice a criminal investigation or prosecution been realised. Since the writ was served, every named defendant has been convicted, charged or taken into police custody on other terrorist charges. This in itself highlights another important merit of the campaign: it has kept up pressure on politicians and the police to bring the perpetrators to justice.

The peace process often necessarily required a blind eye being turned to the specific in favour of the greater good. The Northern problem rightly required messy compromises. Unfortunately, though, this had a demoralising effect on ordinary people who saw it as a forfeiture of justice. The Omagh civil action has gone some way to correct that imbalance.

Aftermath by Ruth Dudley Edwards is published on July 2 by Harvill Secker at £12.99