From the editor’s desk

A time shrouded in darkness

Given the complexities, tensions and compromises, the Catholic Church came out of the Northern Irish Troubles with its reputation less tarnished than it might have been. Its priests, deeply rooted in the nationalist and republican communities that felt besieged and beleaguered from all sides, must have known or suspected many things they felt had to be concealed. The worst and most embarrassing case, that of Fr James Chesney, has now been laid bare after a long investigation by the Northern Ireland Police Ombudsman. Police and British intelligence became convinced that he was the IRA commander in South Derry who was personally responsible in 1972 for the bombing of the peaceful town of Claudy and the killing of nine innocent civilians, five Catholics and four Protestants, with many more injured. It appears Fr Chesney was nothing but a mass murderer.

He was never prosecuted, but it is a mistake to assume he benefited from a church cover-up of the type that later became notorious over clerical sex abuse. The police clearly knew more than the church authorities ever did, though whether they could have proved their case in court is less certain. Interviewed by church officials, he denied the accusation of IRA membership, which would have been grounds for dismissal, but admitted to strong republican sympathies.

The British Government had only recently become responsible for the direct rule of Northern Ireland and was on a steep learning curve; the then Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, William Whitelaw, approached Cardinal William Conway, who was the Catholic primate, and was sympathetically received, resulting in Fr Chesney being removed from the province and given enforced sick leave. The Catholic Church's relationship with the IRA was always difficult, with excommunication sometimes suggested but rarely pursued. It was briefly imposed by the Bishop of Cork in 1920, discussed but not implemented in England in both 1939 and 1972. The usual objection was that it could have the opposite effect to the one intended, driving people towards the IRA and away from the Church.

From 1969, every IRA atrocity was denounced by church officials, and IRA paraphernalia was banned from church funerals. And Pope John Paul II unequivocally denounced terrorism as "murder" when he preached at Drogheda in 1979. On the Protestant side, despite all this, the perception was widespread that the Church and the Provisionals were hand in glove.

The decision not to prosecute, taken at the highest level, was influenced by a strong sense that Northern Ireland was a powder keg ready to explode, and nobody knew what the response would be of publicly identifying a priest as an IRA killer. Protestant Loyalists could have wished for nothing more: it would have confirmed their wildest conspiracy theories. Even greater sectarian violence, even civil war, could have been triggered.

In such circumstances, it is unfair to second-guess those who made the decision to hush things up. Sinn Fein, on the other hand, has a lot of questions still to answer. Martin McGuinness, the Deputy First Minister, was allegedly IRA second-in-command in Derry at the time. He has called for something like the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa to deal with unresolved issues including Claudy. There is certainly a lot more truth to be uncovered.