Troubling rhetoric: discourse theory and Irish Republican Army narratives (1962–1972)

ABSTRACT

This paper examines rhetorical theory and narrative creation in the history of militant Irish Republicanism. The splintering of the Irish Republican Army (IRA) was predicated on numerous ideological differences during the 1960s; these shifts were underpinned by modalities of discourse and performative speech. Drawing on Ronald Krebs’ work, the IRA’s internal narrative conflicts from the period of 1962–1972 are analysed. Further, it adapts the philosophy of communicative action to show how discourse – spoken and written – was deployed within the pre-split IRA organization and among the Republican community during the turbulent period of 1968–1970. The ideological changes conducted by IRA Chief of Staff Cathal Goulding and his allies offer opportunities to study the competing nationalist narratives and intra-organizational conflict. This work explores the rhetorical foundations of Goulding’s narrative contestations and argues their ‘moment’ was hampered by self-created political hurdles, due to their modes of linguistic deployment. The further application of discourse analysis – through an examination of ‘resistance communities’ – demonstrates how forms of ‘coercive speech’ allowed the fledgling Provisional Irish Republican movement to adapt during and after the split. These theoretical frameworks add to the historiography of this turbulent period and reassesses the how’s of narrative reformation.

KEYWORDS:

• Cathal Goulding
• IRA
• coercion
• rhetoric
• narrative
• performativity

Introduction

Contemporary analyses of the Irish Republican movement often focus on the intersections of identity, narrative, and memory, especially when describing periods of splintering or internal shift. Recent historical scholarship has expanded the literature pertaining to Official Republicanism, challenged narratives within the Provisional’s political evolution, and re-examined the contentious milieux that emerged from inter-movement civil rights agitation (Hanley, 2013; Hanley & Millar, 2009; Hepworth, 2021; Rekawek, 2011). Social movement scholars have provided insights into the agency, social relations, and networks of activism which both permeated and transcended the Republican movement (Bosi, 2012; Bosi & Davis, 2017; ÓDochartaigh, 2017).

Such examinations often invoke the role of narrative construction and its impact on social relations. However, they rarely delve into nuanced analyses of rhetorical form within the contentious arenas of intra-organizational and intra-movement discourse. This article argues that discursive contestation deserves special attention when considering how oppositional narratives are constructed and challenged. By tracing rhetorical deployments within Republicanism’s leftward turn and eventual split, it seeks to explicate how and in what sense their conflicting narratives operated.

Unpacking narrative, whether it emerges from primary historical sources, interviews, or secondary literature, poses a unique challenge. Because these accounts often possess both story-building and argumentative elements, they require unique forms of rhetorical analysis, especially when the accounts contain competing frames (Ricouer, 1984). Moreover, these frames encompass broad paradigms which rely on the influence of wider social relations (Sniderman & Theriault, 2004). This is especially pertinent in cases where discursion itself ‘constructs’ sources of political and/or cultural power (Reed, 2013).

Gestures towards interrogating narrative processes in Northern Ireland’s Republican movement have occasionally been made. English (2012) crucially links the IRA’s ‘utterly comprehensible’ argumentative mode to the legacy of its traditionalist histories, while also pointing out historical incongruities between the organization’s claims around communal defence and the historical evidence (pp. 339–340, 351). Likewise, Hanley (2013) adopts a narrower focus in his tracing of one persistently divisive myth within this ‘Catholic defender’ narrative, that of the supposed ‘I Ran Away’ graffiti in Free Belfast. However, much of the historiography fails to develop a theoretical account of how discursive contestation dynamically affected the shifting narratives within the IRA and Sinn Féin, both before and after their 1969 split. Hepworth (2021) argues that ‘superficial treatments’ of factionalisms and reifications of their ideological differences hamper attempts at such microanalyses (pp. 2–3). This article argues that a focus on rhetorical deployment constitutes precisely the type of ‘microanalysis’ which can clarify the mechanisms underlying these developments and divisions.

This project’s foundation rests in demonstrating the intersection of rhetorical form and social environment which informed the construction, entrenchment, and contestation of IRA/Sinn Féin narratives from 1962–1972. It avoids essentialist reification by appealing to the dynamic nature of discursion and the fluidity of narratives. Following Bosi and Davis (2017), it takes seriously the potential for actor’s creative agency in transformative moments, while acknowledging the mediating effects of wider social relations. This requires an interdisciplinary framework derived from the realms of social movement scholarship and political science. A qualitative methodology applies rhetorical analysis to IRA/Sinn Féin statements, making use of movement periodicals, biographical accounts, and arguments from secondary sources. The triangulation of these sources is paramount, as discursive assessments must adequately address the relevant actors’ social and historical conditions. The malleability of group identification, ‘elite influence’ within political movements, and the unique nature of Irish nationalism all affect rhetorical deployment in the construction of narrative, and the literature surrounding these concepts are examined in turn.

First, given the intra-community difference within Irish nationalism, rhetorical analysis must account for flexibility in group identity. Borrowing from Brubaker (2002, 2015), a constructivist portrayal of ‘groupness’ is utilized. Rather than understanding ethnic, political, and social movements as categorically bounded, this framework proposes that such entities constantly undergo identificational flux. Sociopolitical processes can alter the ‘tenets’ which participants view as essential. In the Irish historical context, these processes actively influenced organizational cohesiveness within the Republican movement.

This appeal to agency and the mediating influence of social relations avoids reifying the networks within Republicanism. It acknowledges that political discourses contain unique ‘logics’ and cultural idioms which enhance or constrain agents’ potential for action (Emirbayer & Goodwin, 1994). For example, traditionalist Irish Republican reverence for ‘commemoration’ embodies a unique cultural logic which may allow interlocutors to interweave past traditions with contemporary situations (McBride, 2017). Constructivism further explains how creative performativity influenced the political reality of sites like Free Derry. These ‘resistance communities’, in Bean’s (2007) terminology, offered harbour to participants of various ideologies, and their constituent makeups affected the locales’ function as arenas for discourse and physical recruitment.

While narrative, then, is clearly malleable, the historical and social circumstances which underlay the IRA’s history prior to 1962 entrenched certain organizational commitments. Interlocutors who challenged these frames faced a discursive inertia and needed to employ various rhetorical ‘modalities’ to promote their interests and capture audiences both within and outside their groups. The more ‘settled’ a narrative, the more deeply entrenched are its tenets and definitions among those who ascribe to them. Krebs (2015) suggests that narrative contestation under these conditions takes one of two forms: argumentation or storytelling. The successful deployment of either modality must account for the relative ‘settledness’ of the existing narrative, and whether contention renders manoeuvring within it or attempts at restructuring more salient. Moreover, during periods of narrative contestation, persuasive efforts may be cast off in favour of ‘rhetorical coercion’, which relies on the enforcement of particularly impactful ‘norms’ or arguments rather than compromise (Dufournet & Adab, 2015; Krebs & Jackson, 2007). While Krebs’ schema derives from examinations of governmental foreign policy, an application of its general logic to Republican discursive contestations is possible given the interplay between its military and political wings, its communal public, and the movement’s deference to recognized authority figures.

Consideration must be paid to political leadership given their propensity for fostering narrative change (Gagnon, 1994; Snyder, 2000). Gagnon (1994) demonstrates the role of elite influence in power consolidation. The control wielded by established Republicans lent their discursive modalities greater weight as they attempted to legitimize their reconstructed narratives. Several texts attest to the saliency of Republican heritage in the projection of legitimacy (English, 2012; Finn, 2019; Whiting, 2015). Moreover, competing forms of ‘mutually antagonist [Irish] nationalisms’, along with conflicting understandings of leftism and generational difference, created space for conflict (Brubaker, 1996, pp. 4–6; English, 2008, pp. 374–375). It was within these spaces that the interplay between political elites’ malleable, constructed narratives and the influence of social relations appeared.

By examining movement and organizational rhetoric, these theoretical considerations are drawn together in an analysis which is interpretative rather than prescriptive. Appeals to constructivism and Krebs’ rhetorical models offer an explorative framework for assessing historical outcomes at transformative junctures. Structurally, the article is split into three periods where potential for discursive contestation was highly salient.

Part I focuses on Cathal Goulding’s ascension to IRA Chief of Staff and the leadership’s attempts to reformulate the Republican narrative as one of leftwing, working-class antagonisms. It explores the IRA’s relationship to the Irish Republic and the organization’s entrenched traditionalism. This section focuses on the methods the new leadership used to reappropriate foundational histories for a progressive nationalistic purpose, reframing old ideas with the intent of instilling organizational change.

Part II spans both the southern Republic and Northern Ireland, explicating the Republican leadership’s interactions with the diverse Northern Irish Civil Rights Association (NICRA). During this period of political agitation, the Goulding camp continued to pursue the possibility of dropping abstentionism from Sinn Féin’s political tenets. Northern Ireland’s devolving political situation created space for rhetorical assault, as Goulding’s policy failure provided traditionalists and proto-Provisional Republicans space for both storytelling and argumentative modalities during the IRA’s fractious 1969 Army Convention.

Part III centres mostly on the north, examining the fallout of the IRA’s split into the Official and Provisional elements from 1970–1972. It reassesses the impact narrative reframing had on the rise of the Provisionals during the early 1970s, while explaining the role ‘resistance communities’ played as audiences and arenas for contestation. The PIRA and OIRA’s distinct narratives are then put into conversation by examining their viability within the social relations comprising these nationalist political environments and the impact of internment.

Revising narratives and unsettling frames: the discourse of Cathal Goulding’s IRA (1962–1967)

Cathal Goulding faced challenging circumstances upon his ascension to IRA Chief of Staff. Most histories reference the general apathy shown towards the IRA during the decades following the Second World War. Weakened and under-armed, the group was further hampered by the 1950s Border Campaign (Allen, 2016, p. 130). The operation left many high-profile members interned or arrested, reducing the IRA’s active manpower to new lows (Finn, 2019, pp. 26–27). Though some of these internees would pass their sentences refining their political philosophies, the wider movement stagnated. Militant Republican ideology retreated inward and further entrenched itself in a nationalistic rhetoric which spurned the left (Allen, 2016, pp. 130–131).

The IRA’s ideological stasis echoed the political situation taking place in the Republic of Ireland at the time. A tandem strengthening of Catholic traditionalism, anti-Communism, and hegemonic political leadership help explain this inertia. Politically dominated by the conservative-nationalist Fianna Fáil, Ireland was subjected to further anti-Communist propaganda by the party’s allyship with the Catholic Church (Allen, 2016, pp. 118–119). During Fianna Fáil’s parliamentary dominance, even left-leaning Labour and large trade unions – including the James Connolly-founded Irish Transport and General Workers Union (ITGWU) – found it expedient to suppress anti-capitalist rhetoric, instead promoting ‘good sound Christian principles’ (Allen, 2016, p. 49; Daly, 2016, pp. 270–271). These external social conditions are essential to understanding the internal rhetoric developed by left-leaning Republican leadership during the 1960s. After more than two decades of traditionalist codification, a radical leftwing shift of Ireland’s much mythologized IRA seemed unlikely; Communism was a ‘bugbear’ whose practitioners were barred from joining. (Feeney, 2002, p. 197; Hanley & Millar, 2009, p. 5). Indeed, IRA policy ‘in many ways … promoted a more extreme version of [the ethos of the 1950s southern state]’ (Hanley & Millar, 2009, p. 4).

Still, though robbed of their revolutionary teeth, left-leaning groups waited off centre-stage; a handful of domestic and international events suggested the potential for change. Labour saw an influx of younger members and attempted coalitions with the larger trade unions, while bouts of economic protest occurred (Daly, 2016, pp. 265–270; Hanley & Millar, 2009, p. 3). Moreover, traditional nationalists and leftists alike found a common enemy in the European Economic Community. As early as 1962, The Connolly Association’s The Irish Democrat was arguing against the EEC’s potential effects on the ‘small farmer,’ who was the ‘traditional backbone’ of Republicanism (May 1962, p. 3). The paper decried the conservatism being fostered by Fianna Fail while espusing a blend of old-Left Communistic and nationalistic discourse that promoted a democratization of the northern state. The Connolly Association, and its thought-leader Irish Marxist Charles Desmond Greaves, would inspire important developments within Republicanism during the 1960s.

The prominence of the USSR also played a role, though its ability to influence Republicanism was simultaneously disputed by leftists and utilized as fodder for claims making by traditionalists. As Swan points out, IRA leadership often looked to the ‘enemy of their enemy’ for support (2007, p. 130). Though potential for leftwing political cooperation existed, evidenced by communication between Irish Communists and Irish Republicans at the end of the 1950s, the internationalist tendencies ascribed to the former hampered these relationships. Conspiracies linking leftists to Moscow were a common source of reactionary construction among the traditional physical-force elements within Republicanism. These conspiracies would later suggest that Moscow fixed-up up jobs for Irish Communists in Dublin at the behest of IRA leadership (Johnston, 2003, pp.170–171).

It was against the backdrop of these social relations that Cathal Goulding sought to promote a politicization within the IRA during the mid-1960s. Allied in this project was the new President of Sinn Féin, Tomás Mac Giolla. Though Mac Giolla often acted as a mediator between the leftist and traditionalist factions, his later commentary makes it clear that political leftism was a personal conviction held throughout the early 1960s (Swan, 2007, p. 102). The timing of Goulding’s own Marxist shift is disputed, though his ideological development was possibly connected to meeting Communist Klaus Fuchs in prison during the mid-1950s (Swan, 2007, pp. 101–102). Understanding the need for change within a floundering movement, the pair and the tendency they represented readied to discursively contest the traditionalist narrative.

In Kreb’s terminology, the discursive situation was relatively settled: the definitions and traditions within Republicanism were deeply entrenched (2015, pp. 40–42). Under these circumstances, discursive ‘contestation’ typically takes the form of ‘argumentation’, with interlocutors debating and creating policy by extrapolating action from agreed-upon tenets (2015, p. 36). Challenging the traditionalist narrative required a different modality, that of ‘storytelling,’ which would instead shift the agreeable terms of discourse. But this presented a problem, as individuals engaging in rhetorical ‘storytelling’ within settled narratives risk ostracization and removal.

As such, Goulding and his camp needed to challenge the dominant narrative without destabilizing their positions. Fortunately, some members of the left-leaning cadre held key positions of rhetorical power, enabling them to engage in discursive contestation. Goulding and Mac Giolla presided over the movement’s military and political wing. While individuals of various ideologies served on the IRA’s Army Council and Sinn Féin’s Ard Comhairle, and their decision making was nominally democratic, rarely do counter-narrative interlocutors launch their discursive contestations from such relationally powerful positions. Moreover, Goulding’s sterling traditionalist Republican background aided his claims. He came from a stalwart Republican family and was interned during the Second World War (English, 2012, p. 83; Rafter, 2005, p. 93). Mac Giolla had also been interned during Operation Harvest (Finn, 2019, pp. 30–31). Though Moloney suggests that Goulding could only count on two other members of the seven-person Army Council – Seamus Costello and leftist Sean Garland – these important positions offered them inroads to reform the movement as high-profile insiders, rather than disaffected dissidents (2007, p. 59).

The secondary literature suggests that the Gouldingites very gradually contested the traditionalist IRA narrative: rather than challenge it outright, they reappropriated Irish Revolutionary figures and utilized their progressive, socialist ideas to unsettle existing frames without breaking them entirely. Rekawek shows that Goulding made a concerted attempt to appease the ‘contradictory constituency’, marrying leftism with certain traditionalist principles (2011, p. 10). In speeches and intracommunal communications, quotes from James Connolly and Patrick Pearse ‘were chosen carefully’ (Finn, 2019, pp. 30–31). The combination of this pair was strategic, as the ideological contrasts between them could not be sharper (Allen, 2016, p. 48). Connolly committed to revolutionary socialism, and his Marxist ideology caused the nationalist movement to posthumously bury his rhetoric. By contrast, Pearse was a deeply Catholic nationalist whose political sentiments never reached the stage of vehement anticapitalism. By co-opting both for their narrative reframing project, Gouldingites reinstituted the radical economic programmes and class consciousness of the movement’s roots while also reappropriating a more traditionalist martyr. This was a savvy move, as various political undercurrents coursed through the IRA. The gradual, rhetorical inclusion of these figures for socialistic development was intentional, as Mac Giolla says:

… our socialism developed as we went along … we, particularly Cathal [Goulding] and myself, would point out to people that Connolly’s reconquest of Ireland wasn’t just talking about the North or any particular part, he was talking about re-conquest of your own territory (Tomas Mac Giolla, 2002; as cited in Swan, 2007, p. 102).

Intensive Marxist rhetoric was not the focus of their leftward shift; instead, it was demonstrating the traditional background these sentiments derived from, rhetorically making the reappropriation palatable for individuals across the ideological spectrum.

The coming-together moment for these rhetorical strands, the reassessment of traditional heroes and institution of an ideological line, was most apparent during the 1963 bicentennial of Wolfe Tone’s birth. Commemoration acts as an ‘entrenched culture’ within the Republican consciousness (McBride, 2017, p. 12); as such, commemorative moments offered the perfect ‘traditional’ avenue within which to discursively reframe narratives. The Protestant Tone promoted radical cross-community solidarity:

To subvert the tyranny of our execrable government, to break the connection with England … (our means) are to unite the whole of Ireland, to abolish past dissensions, and to substitute the common name of Irishman (Wolfe Tone, quoted in Swan, 2007, pp. 32–33).

Tone’s rhetoric championed non-sectarian, mass-action radicalism that appealed to the Goulding camp. To celebrate the bicentennial, Goulding helped establish the Wolfe Tone Directories, which grew into think-tanks aimed at education and social agitation; these groups continued after the commemorations and grew in scope, becoming the Wolfe Tone Societies in 1964 (Swan, 2007, pp. 105–106). Roy Johnston and Anthony Coughlan, Irish leftists with deep connections to the Connolly Association and contributors to The Irish Democrat, became significant influences on the WTS. Johnston’s participation with the IRA, given his Communist history, caused consternation among traditionalists; he was one of the individuals accused of receiving material support from Moscow during his relocation to Ireland (Johnston, 2003, pp. 171–172). However, by the mid-1960s his nationalistic tendencies outpaced his Marxist influence, and he remained a prominent figure, important for his contributions of coherent political strategy (Purdie, 1990, pp. 123–124). This is not to say his leftward ambitions completely disappeared. Though Johnston contented himself with ‘referencing traditional elements’ and avoided ‘exotic concepts’ when interacting with the Republican movement, he used these practical frames to promote the politicization of Republicanism (Treacy, 2012). With the creation and proliferation of the Societies, the Gouldingites not only introduced new discursive arenas influenced by their ideologies, but also co-opted aspects of discourse to justify policy shift, all within the confines of traditionalist’s commemorative culture.

Having effectively infiltrated and ‘unsettled’ the establishment narrative, the leftist IRA contingent pushed their agenda ahead through publications and internal debates throughout 1965. The movement leftwards coaligned with a desire among some progressive members to continue furthering Republicans’ political engagement; to this point, abstentionism and a distrust of political processes permeated the movement. By politicizing the group, Gouldingites hoped to further the nationalist cause. 1965 saw the first fruits of these initiatives: Johnston – through the Wolfe Tone Societies – began drafting a new social programme; the IRA’s internal journal An t’Óglach rhetorically tied revolutionary action to political education and promoted the writings of Che Guevara; and a vote on the role of Sinn Féin’s official status, as well as formal debates on abstentionism, were held during June’s special Army Convention (An t’Óglach, 1965; Treacy, 2011, p. 46). The gradual politicization of the IRA and Sinn Féin proceeded apace, spurred on by the narrative shift Goulding accomplished over the previous two years. Internally, the leftwing narrative appeared to be no longer ‘contesting’ but coming out on top.

Not everybody accepted this radical departure from traditional tenets. Sean Ó Bradaigh and brother Ruairí Ó Bradaigh, themselves important members of the Republican apparatus, had their fledgling Eire Nua economic programme shelved for Johnston’s contribution (Treacy, 2011, p. 45). The eventual publication of this document in 1971 shows a more fluid ideological stance towards economic resistance, lacking Marxist philosophy (Eire Nua, 1971). Seán Mac Stíofáin, elected to the Army Council during 1965s Convention, had earlier spoken out against the inclusion of Johnston and continued to disagree with IRA politicization – which he saw as a demilitarization – during the narrative shift. Mac Stíofáin’s resistance to politicization reflected, to Johnston, the dangers of failing to open a space for Irish leftism independent from ‘dead-handed’ Stalinist organizations in the UK (Johnston, 2003, p. 170). This was the danger inherent to challenging the traditionalist frame without incorporating the revolutionary Irish tradition.

Antagonistic intra-community Republican publications also questioned the new narrative: 1965 editions of the Irish Revolutionary Forces’ An Phoblacht contain various levels of dissent. Published by a leftwing, non-abstentionist splinter group, one issue challenged Goulding’s commitment to armed struggle, attacking his ‘soft-talk’ and lamenting the IRA’s apparent demilitarization (An Phoblacht No. 2 [IRF], 1965, p. 13). The previous edition feigned surprise when The United Irishman openly questioned the policy of abstention; however, they also argued that any political participation by Sinn Féin be conciliatory, not revolutionary (An Phoblacht No. 1 [IRF], 1965, p. 3). Though contemptuous of traditionalist stances, these intra-community groups supplemented the developing myth of Goulding’s pacifism.

Though these voices foreshadowed looming ideological conflicts, the Goulding leadership was successfully establishing a leftwing Republican narrative within the IRA. While the Army Convention rejected plans to drop abstentionism, the broader ‘politicization’ of the group was a relative success, as the issue was no longer confined to Goulding’s inner-circle but widely debated among delegates (Hanley & Millar, 2009, p. 41; Swan, 2007, p. 159). One sees rhetorical confidence on display during the special 1965 Convention when, while discussing the abstentionism vote, Goulding stated:

Should it happen that you are against the recommendation, you must not regard those in favour as traitors … should it happen that you favour the recommendation you must not regard your opponents as either stupid or traditionalist (Goulding, as quoted in Hanley & Millar, 2009, pp. 40–41).

Goulding’s contestation no longer required total deference to storytelling, instead assuming an ‘argumentative’ modality. Keeping in mind that argumentation works best when definitions are mutually agreeable, this linguistic turn demonstrates Goulding’s comfort in pursuing policy change rather than unsettling narratives unsettling.

While the 1965 Convention exemplified the extent of Gouldingites’ rhetorical ascendency, the following year’s 1966 Easter Rising Commemorations reflected the continued necessity for its careful application within particular political environments. Seamus Costello’s address in Belfast directly linked the ‘social’ and ‘national’ question, declaring that the ‘Irish Worker’, regardless of class or religion, was the locus for national change (The United Irishman, May 1966, p. 11). However, though Costello’s rhetoric reflected the working class interests of the politicizing movement, the social relations comprising Belfast’s political environment hampered broader leftwing solidarity. Costello lauded the participation of local labour activists, even as Elizabeth Sinclair, a Communist and leading trade unionist associated with the Connolly Association, was prevented by conservative Irish elements from giving her own oration (The United Irishman, May 1966, p. 1; Hanley & Millar, 2009, pp. 53–54).

Within the Republican organizations themselves, Goulding’s discursive restructuring allowed for the linking of Sinn Féin and IRA leaderships. Political ambitions required an overhaul of Sinn Féin; traditionally, the party acted as a ‘rubber-stamp’ for Army Convention decisions (Treacy, 2011, pp. 160–161). Intertwining the two organizations allowed for greater policy control and political autonomy, while expanding Gouldingite influence. Sinn Féin’s central committee underwent an extraordinary change at the 1966 Ard Fheis, as Cathal Goulding and Roy Johnston, along with Sean Mac Stíofáin, joined the Ard Chomhairle leadership (Hanley & Millar, 2009, p. 79). This brought Sinn Féin’s political programme further under the military wing’s purview; however, the Goulding camp attempted to use this influence to strengthen Sinn Féin’s political role. Their influence quickly began to dominate, overtaking the resistant voices of Mac Stíofáin and the two ÓBradaigh’s. By 1967 talk of unified fronts between the IRA and other leftwing, labour focused, non-sectarian organizations emerged, alliances which would form an important and divisive system of political engagement against which to test the practical policy supported by the left-leadership’s rhetoric.

Through these discursive manoeuvres, Goulding and his allies managed to unsettle the entrenched Republican narrative, challenge the foundational tenets laid out by traditionalists, promote their own counter-narrative, and elevate it to a stabilized position. Having entered the argumentative modality, the Gouldingites’ developing ideological commitment towards a unified leftist coalition found a particular policy target in the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Movement.

Coercive rhetoric and communicative action: civil rights to Republican splintering (1968–1970)

Throughout the 1960s, moderate civil rights activism coalesced around demands for reform which would guarantee the greater political inclusion of the Catholic minority. The previous decades saw foreign manufacturing outstripping the capabilities of the northern counties, and cuts within the once stalwart shipbuilding and linen industries caused skyrocketing unemployment (Lee, 1989, p. 413). These conditions disproportionately affected politically disenfranchized Catholics; however, the downturn also impacted working class Protestants. Anti-sectarian leftists sought to establish progressive, cross-community endeavours for the attainment of civil rights and economic reform.

The inter-community relationships between Catholics and Protestants fluctuated prior to the 1966/1967 launch of NICRA. Different sources focus on different metrics to underscore the extent of sectarian tension. Wright suggests that, prior to the height of NICRA activism, 75% of Protestants did not believe discrimination was an issue (1987, p. 194). Resentment amongst Catholics, according to Derry-based activist Eamonn McCann, existed during the period but ‘revolutionary’ ferment was low (2018, pp. 47–51). McCann’s views are somewhat corroborated by a Belfast Telegraph poll, which showed that young Catholics were less concerned about housing and employment reform than their elders (The Belfast Telegraph, 15 October 1968). By contrast, Finn illustrates several high-profile sectarian agitations over the display of flags in Belfast as early as 1965 (2019, p. 40). Though there is a major difference between governmental discrimination and community animosity, these conflicting narratives were both exploitable for propaganda and politically difficult to navigate.

The combination of perceived economic disenfranchisement and the potential for anti-sectarian labour organization offered Goulding a chance to institute policy aligned with his new narrative frame. In Kreb’s schema, policy derives from argumentation, where proving that ‘[if] X fits into category Y, then policy A [can] follow’ (2015, p. 36); Goulding, having established a narrative for political agitation and anti-sectarianism, fit the Northern Irish situation (X) into the wider programme of the IRA’s leftist, mass-agitation project (Y). His policy focused on the Wolfe Tones Societies’ northern influence and Republican participation within NICRA.

From the beginning, NICRA was linked to the Wolfe Tone Societies. The civil rights organization grew out of a 1966 conference that Goulding himself attended; moreover, Johnston’s engagement with Society policy meant that the group could internally influence the Civil Rights Movement through political programmes (Purdie, 1990, pp. 123–124). If anything, Republican influence over NICRA was too powerful in Johnston’s eyes: he, along with Coughlan, desired the formation of organic links between civil rights and the trade union movement. (Johnston, 2003, p. 187).

This continued leftward trajectory disillusioned those worried about further departures from the armed tradition, though internal documents from the period contain conflicting positions on physical resistance. While An t’Oglach recognized the inadequacies of the Border Campaign, it insisted that ‘[the IRA] must have men who are capable of leading the people in armed struggle’ (An t’Oglach, 1967, p. 1) By contrast, a 1966 WTS bulletin disavowed any violent or provocative methods, lest they concede moral power to the Unionist government (Purdie, 1990, pp. 127–128). This declaration seemed to run counter to the IRA’s role as the state’s primary antagonist. However, these policies were not as mutually exclusive as the post-split Provisional narrative would frame them. Goulding was not abandoning military force, but rhetorically playing up engagement with the masses. Far from being pacifistic, evidence suggests that Goulding hoped for a violent state response that would expose Unionist contradictions and ‘inject some militancy into the people’ (Finn, 2019, p. 44).

The events of 1968, and Republicans’ interaction with them, must be understood within the context of these frames. Several on-the-ground organizations, including the Derry Housing Action Committee, instigated ‘direct action’ campaigns which received assistance from leftist Republicans and, possibly, the Derry IRA (Ó Dochartaigh, 2005, p. 38). The United Irishman adopted a flexible stance towards civil rights agitation, arguing for nonviolent activism ‘strictly within the law’ while simultaneously forecasting the conditions which could engender popular support for disobedient ‘non-cooperation’ (August 1968). Interestingly, intercepted IRA documents suggested that Army policy was foregrounding economic and political resistance: new recruits were to focus on ‘backing up … revolutionary action initiated legally,’ and the Army’s ‘political activity’ would necessarily precede any ‘extra-legal action’ (‘Copy of the IRA Political and Military Plan’, quoted in Violence and Civil Disturbance in Northern Ireland in 1969 (Scarman), 1972). While the document also laid out military plans for sabotage and ‘stunt-campaigns,’ its departure from previous military-centric methods was clear.

This fluid language around physical confrontation offered leadership rhetorical room to manoeuvre. A more confrontational article addressing Minister for Home Affairs William Craig demonstrates a similar tactic. While denying that the IRA promoted violence within the civil rights campaign, The United Irishman maintained that if the Army had been present during 1968s protests it would have readily confronted police repression with physical force (The United Irishman, November 1968). These arguments allowed the IRA to maintain its image as communal defender, but primarily centralized Republican activists’ non-sectarian and non-violent participation in the civil rights struggle.

The entrenchment of these political commitments was further reflected in Dublin at the end of the year, as Goulding’s policy agenda and its constituent narrative frame continued to influence both September’s IRA Convention and December’s Ard Fheis. Though the Convention saw delegates once again shoot down efforts to drop abstention, sympathetic elements managed to expand the political cadre’s influence by passing a restructuring motion which expanded the IRA Army Council from seven members to twenty. Though Seán Mac Stíofáin bemoaned the changes and claimed that Council meetings devolved into abstract Marxist debates which distracted from the situation in the north, this reconstituted Council provided Goulding’s positions greater discursive and political weight in both organizations. (Hanley & Millar, 2009, pp. 68–69).

The general tone struck at the 1968 Ard Fheis further reflected the success of the political narrative project to that point. Mac Giolla’s address reflected on the important events of the year. On October 5th, just two months prior, a banned civil rights march was brutally suppressed by forces of the Royal Ulster Constabulary. Republicans were accused of utilizing the demonstration as a front-operation, though the extent of their organized participation is disputed (Purdie, 1990, pp. 145–147); it was in reference to this event that The United Irishman categorically denied IRA involvement. During his speech, Mac Giolla reinforced this position, focusing on democratic victories both north and south while lauding the CRM’s ability to bring Unionist hypocrisy to light, suggesting that the policy of social agitation was spurring the masses towards political engagement (Clarke, 1968). He kept mentions of socialism and leftwing rhetoric scarce, breaking only to comment that ‘true socialism and true Republicanism are identical as both are based on the brotherhood of man’ (Clarke, 1968); this lofty progressive sentiment spoke to the leadership’s hope that its narrative remained intact, its policy was sound, and that traditionalists could be appeased. Even the introduction of the Garland Amendment, which sought to ‘examine all facets of Movement policy’ given the year’s political changes, was successfully discussed without collapsing over the issue of abstention (The United Irishman, January 1969).

But this careful rhetorical balancing act would soon face a pressure test amidst growing northern repression. Future Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams recalled the disconnect between Dublin’s political theory and the pragmatic realities of protest in Belfast. Dublin leadership had a ‘clear enough view of the gradualist strategy (1988, p. 45). The gradual democratic process underlying 1968s ‘IRA Political and Military Plan’ document suggests as much. Goulding’s rhetorical mode argued for new, politically minded policies which promoted progressive reforms, democratic transformation, and worker’s unity. However, while they had been rhetorically successful to this point, events on the ground led to ‘a degree of initiative [had been] wrested [from lRA leadership] by rank-and-file activists who were taking a more realistic attitude’ (1988, p. 45). Adams implies Goulding lacked this realism. While The United Irishman’s language suggested variable support for direct action, the intensity of state oppression was not being properly addressed. An escalation in state and sectarian violence created discursive spaces where controlled, argumentative discourse broke down. From 1969 onwards, contestation began shifting from the linguistic acts of Conventions and Ard Fheiseanna to the communication of street protests, which targeted new audiences and gave them a physical voice (Meyer, 2007, p. 87).

The theory which underpinned the new political narrative also came under assault. Goulding, Mac Giolla, and Johnston’s top-down attempt at reforming Irish politics also drew criticism from young leftwing activists who supported bottom-up transformation through social agitation (Collins, 2018, p. 236). These tensions were not new in 1968: one 1966 An Phoblacht issue republished a Queen’s University student’s letter which argued against focusing on partition in favour of addressing economic disenfranchisement (An Phoblacht No. 2 [IRF], 1966, p. 9). Though Johnston himself recognized the revolutionary potential of students, his theoretical foundations still rested in the Communism of the Connolly Association, an old-Leftism which did not appeal to radical youths (The United Irishman, May 1966). While both sides shared an anti-sectarian labour focus, the foundational tenet of political reform and working through existent institutional structures did not align with young activist’s power-from-below values. Ideological difference festered within the leftist IRA narrative while differences of generational praxis threatened its stability from the outside.

Unfortunately for the Gouldingites, these tensions were brought to a head when the events of 1969 exposed weakness in their northern policy, unsettling their narrative frame and igniting debates which began splitting the movement apart. The previous November, NI Prime Minister Terence O’Neill presented a five-point reform programme, prompting the NICRA to halt protests. Sceptical of O’Neill’s sincerity, a new radical student-led movement, The People’s Democracy, organized a march from Belfast to Derry that, in controversial defiance of NICRA, went ahead in January (Finn, 2019, p. 58). Prince, in a critical examination of the incident, stated that PD leader Michael Farrell wanted to provoke a violent confrontation with the state (2007, p. 205); by contrast, Finn suggests that the march was a uniquely Northern Irish attempt to push the issue of justice centre-stage, and force the state to expose itself through intervention (Finn, 2013, pp. 16–17). Whatever the intention, Republican leadership ordered the rank-and-file not to participate, as the antagonistic posturing and open defiance of the NICRA truce were antithetical to its narrative and policy (Adams, 1988, p. 48). The march was duly attacked by Loyalists at Burntollet Bridge, and the ensuing fallout launched the most violent summer in Northern Irish memory.

The summer of 1969 was one of barricades, sectarian attacks, police battles, and the eventual deployment of British military forces in Northern Ireland. The departure of O’Neill after a snap election and the inability of Northern Ireland’s weak political institutions to handle inter-community antagonisms fanned the flames. The resulting violence secured a particular place in Republicans’ memory, as they employed, the language of ‘pogroms’ to reference organised sectarian attacks on Belfast Catholics during the August riots, the apporpriateness of which is controversial (English, 2012, p. 104). Nevertheless, the antagonistic and repressive responses to basic civil rights demands from both the state and a growing Protestant counter-movement further suggested the inability of the existent social systems to democratically reform the northern state, the policy on which Republican leadership had planted its flag (Collins, 2018, p. 51) It appeared that Goulding’s gradual reformist policy had categorically failed, and with it any hopes of maintaining the narrative dominance which justified its post-1967 policy direction.

However, successful narrative challenges require both drastic transformations in social relations and contestation from opposing actors. These conditions were seen in the current leadership’s own narrative project years prior. While the events of August were certainly dramatic, Republican’s policy failures did not irreparably mar all the narrative tents which underpinned them. Citizen Press, printed at the time by the growingly antagonistic People’s Democracy, nevertheless promoted the Citizen Defence Committee’s efforts in ‘work[ing] to avoid violence’ and courted Protestant support; these efforts were coordinated by Dublin-aligned Republicans within the CDC (Citizen Press No. 8, 1969). The concepts of anti-sectarianism and progressive nationalism still influenced many within the movement.

Moreover, the ‘failures’ of August ironically allowed Goulding to enact policy which further entrenched the dominant narrative: the IRA was ‘mobilized at the service of the defence committees,’ which Johnston argued was a means of securing unity and promoting the Army’s political role (Johnston, 2003, p. 266). This gambit sought to re-assert the image of a capably defensive IRA while prioritizing its political mechanisms. Krebs (2015) argues that catastrophic policy failure may act as a strong impetus for narrative contestation (pp. 176–177). But the complicated dimensions of the northern state’s protracted struggle allowed Goulding to reinforce his policy towards gradual democratization of Stormont and resistance to direct rule. Though the intensity of social developments within the northern political environment opened spaces for narrative contestation. The September issue of The United Irishman doubled down on this position with a succinct headline, ‘Blame Britain!’, but also declared that ‘a tyranny … maintained by force can only be overthrown by force,’ again marrying sociopolitical ends and physical force (1969).

The subsequent 1969 Army Convention and 1970 Ard Fheis provided arenas for discursively contesting the movement’s political direction since 1967. By this time an organizational split seemed imminent (English, 2012, p. 105), and the dissenters’ methods for contesting the Goulding faction’s narrative would prove central to developments within post-split Official and Provisional Republicanism. Proto-Provisionals employed an interesting tactic, combining storytelling around the issues of defence and inadequate nationalism with an argumentative modality that targeted anti-abstention and leftwing policies. Because Goulding’s reappropriated framework attempted to preserve or reconstitute several traditional Republican tenets, this one-two punch created space for the Provisionals ‘foundation myth’ (Finn, 2019, p. 69), while their ‘rhetorically coercive’ arguments illuminated key policy differences between the factions.

The foundations for storytelling were laid down through the end of 1969. This modality allowed dissenters to cement a particular interpretation of events and fix the terms of the coming arguments (Krebs, 2015, p. 38). The most well-trodden story developed during this tense period concerned communal defence. Ruairí Ó Bradaigh assailed Goulding’s refusal to uphold the IRA’s traditional role as ‘Catholic defender’ during the 1969 August riots, a damning linguistic condemnation given the IRA’s constructed history as a protective force (White, 2017). Others suggested that the focus on politicization had left the North underprepared for combat, further attacking Goulding’s abandonment of duty. Orations comparing Goulding to Mao, Stalin, and other totalitarian Marxists, tied the IRA’s new political direction to traditionalist anti-Communism while decrying the leadership’s perceived ‘internationalism’ (Hanley & Millar, 2009, pp. 122–123). The 1968 Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia had divided the group, and though IRA leadership ‘faired [the experience] well’, some high-ranking members did not condemn the action (Hanley & Millar, 2009, pp. 95–96). In a later 1971 interview, Mac Giolla claimed that ‘[the movement] oppose[d] the imperialism of Russia when she invade[d] Czechoslovakia’ and The United Irishman drew links between Soviet aggression and British imperialism (Foley, 1970, p. 23; The United Irishman, September 1968). Though the dominant narrative clearly had responses to these charges, disagreements around internationalist solidarity at the expense of nationalism and perceptions of military inadequacy were adequate to suggest the potential for a differing narrative project.

At the Army Convention proper, the crucial policy proposals involved the formation of a leftwing National Liberation Front and participation in the Stormont, Leister House, and Westminster parliaments. While the stories above assailed the former proposal’s relevance to the Irish struggle, the actual ‘argument’ concerned the policy’s urban bias (Hanley & Millar, 2009, p. 116). Argumentation around the dropping of abstentionism proved more interesting. Policy contestation within a shared narrative frame increases the saliency of tactical ‘coercion’. ‘Rhetorical coercion’ appeals to shared norms, backing opponents into ideological corners out of which they cannot argue (Dufournet & Adab, 2015; Krebs & Jackson, 2007). In a commitment to unity, Goulding and Mac Giolla, attempted to defer debating the issue. Mac Stíofáin employed coercion by demanding that abstentionism be addressed, even though his position was likely to lose, dragging arguments into the open and forcing leadership to fully embrace their position (Treacy, 2011, p. 197). Typically, coercion pushes opponents to accept disagreeable policy positions. However, in the case of abstentionism it was sufficient to strongarm leadership into making their political aims explicit, exposing the dominant narrative frame as fundamentally unreconcilable between the factions. Given that the storytelling attempts to unsettle this frame did not lead to a fully successful challenge, this coercive act helped ensure division.

The Convention passed a resolution dropping abstentionism from Army policy, prompting angry members to convene a ‘Provisional’ council (Hanley & Millar, 2009, p. 145). At Sinn Féin’s 1970 Ard Fheis, the motion to drop abstentionism failed to pass the necessary two-thirds majority. Regardless, the Provisional’s earlier coercive moment, in tandem with their challenges to the foundation of the leadership’ narrative, led to their departure from the shared communicative space. Among those who would join this Provisional element were the two Ó Bradaigh’s and Mac Stíofáin. The continued discussion of abstentionism and the pursuit of a united leftist coalition proved too much for the communicative capabilities of the organization. Going into the new decade, the IRA no longer faced narrative contestation within one movement arena. Instead, two organizations would need to balance their internal narrative projects while vying for the attention of a shared, but locally dispersed, nationalist audience.

Performative speech and resistance communities: free derry, inter-community conflict, and internment (1969–1972)

The split between the Provisionals and the Goulding-helmed organization, later referred to as the Officials, launched a linguistic arms race. Both groups vied for propagandistic dominance, hoping to frame the previous summer’s violence in a narrative reflecting their ideological interests. Along with the task of maintaining internal cohesion, the competing Armies’ dominant narratives sought to mobilize support against their differing conceptions of imperialism. The audience for these endeavours comprised a geographically divided community which found itself increasingly at odds with the state, security forces, and Loyalist sectarianism.

Besieged nationalists coalesced within Catholic-majority neighbourhoods, forming ‘resistance communities.’ These areas presented ‘locally defined Republicanisms’ whose identity could be refined into ‘coherent coalitions’ (Bean, 2007, p. 54); this definition suggests that established Republican entities viewed Catholic enclaves as arenas for narrative contestation, hoping to assimilate the politics-of-place into their ideological project. Assimilation implies an audience to be assimilated: as a primary element in theories of both physical and verbal communicative action, considerations of audience cannot be ignored (Meyer, 2007, pp. 87–89). Given that successful rhetorical deployment in these communities relies on this fact, it is necessary to illustrate a case-study for clarity.

Derry/Londonderry provided a stage for several of the Civil Rights campaign’s high-profile events, including the suppressed 1968 DHAC/NICRA march and the inciting riots of August 1969. The Catholic-majority Bogside neighbourhood offers a singular example of the resistance community paradigm, and one whose foundations lay as much in linguistic acts as physical ones. In January 1969, RUC units invaded the Bogside, and after their dispersal barricades were erected. Liam Hillen, a local teenager, contributed to the defensive zeitgeist by painting a slogan across a wall: ‘You Are Now Entering Free Derry.’

Speaking years later, Hillen commented that the declaration ‘metaphorically [stuck] two fingers up at [the RUC]’ (McClements, 2019). If one understands performative speech as action, there was nothing ‘metaphoric’ about it. Hillen’s slogan projected an illocutionary force, an exercitive taking the form of a declarative statement which physically named the community (Austin, 1975). Hillen’s speech act contributed to resistance through its perlocutionary force: the slogan warned security forces, Loyalists, and the British military that Free Derry embodied a particular independent status.

Free Derry’s internal constitution included radical socialists, Labour party members, young Republicans, and older IRA veterans (McCann, 2018; Ó Dochartaigh, 2005, Chapter 3). Various citizens committees formed for the common defence, while periodicals and Radio Free Derry broadcast news and ideological content. Between 1969 and 1972, Free Derry effectively seceded from British rule, protected by barricades, performative naming, and participatory politicking. One sees in this act of linguistic defiance an instantiation of community participation and local politics that permeated neighbourhoods across urban Northern Ireland.

The rhetorical modalities adopted by Provisionals and Officials when garnering community influence needed to address these social realities. The dissenting Provisionals took the rhetorical offensive, constructing their narrative through appeals to traditionalist legitimacy and an anti-imperialism directed at dismantling Stormont. The inaugural issue of An Phoblacht argued that their new political project was ‘a democratic socialism’ rooted ‘in our Irish and Christian values,’ as opposed to the ‘extreme socialism’ of the dictatorial ‘junta [the Officials] (February 1970). The traditionalist appeal to Christianity was not a one-off. Articles examining the ‘Theology of Protest’ and the ‘Theology of Violence’ appeared in the May and June issues, with the latter declaring that ‘one may take part in a just war or revolution’ and the time had come ‘when the people must stand their ground’ (An Phoblacht, June 1970, p. 6). Provisionals were bolstered by the support of Tom Maguire, a former member of the 1921 s Dáil which represented the last legitimate political authority in the eyes of traditionalist Republicans (English, 2012, p. 113). A published editorial lauded the movements ‘dedication to the old cause in every way’ (An Phoblacht, April 1970).

The most constructive pillar of the Provisional’s narrative project – and the bedrock of its military/political policy – was the culpability of Stormont in imperialist repression. This was the central legacy of dissenters’ coercive moment in 1969, as Stormont’s existence was the paradigmatic symbol of ideological difference between the two Republicanisms. Provisionals sought Stormont’s abolition and ‘a direct confrontation with the British government’; interestingly, in a glib aside An Phoblacht notes that the ‘policymakers [Officials] … must have felt really secure to dictate’ when they solidified their commitment to gradual democratization in the north (February 1970). This passing reference suggests an awareness of where the narrative dominance lay within the pre-split IRA.

The wider Provisional narrative project, however, was reactionarily constructed upon what the movement opposed. This amounted to further rhetorical attacks on the Gouldingite’s commitment to armed struggle and the promotion of Provisional Republicanism as the dominant military force. Belfast’s Republican News (June 1970) coopted the secretive, clandestine rhetoric from its first issue, attacking The United Irishman – which it called The United Informer – for carelessly exposing Republican’s identities. Provisional reporting also focused heavily on Na Fianna Eireann, damning ‘so-called Republicans’ and ‘Communists’ for trying to instil the youth organization with atheistic, ‘International Socialism’ (Republican News, July 1970; Republican News, December-January 1971). The rhetoric identified and targeted committed Republican youths and delegitimized the Official movement, which it referenced only by its Communist associations.

But these discursive salvos meant little if the PIRA lacked activists committed to its anti-imperial struggle. Bosi (2012) argues that the pathways towards mobilization within the PIRA were multi-mechanistic and that the decision to join was motivated by a ‘struggle for recognition’ characterized by ‘an enactment of identity’ and a sense of commitment to community (pp. 350–351, 376–377). Narrative contestation was dynamically linked to the activation of these pathways within the two Republicanisms. Provisional rhetoric harped on issues of dignity in the urban Catholic ghettos. An Phoblacht (June 1970) reprinted articles entitled ‘Life Under NLF’, chronicling the many indignities of living under ‘a Republican Red Guard’ and their ‘insulting … terror tactics’. The usual pieces recounting Irish heroism were supplemented with retrospectives on the 1944 Warsaw Uprising which lauded the ‘patriotism and courage’ of ‘amateur … Ghetto Fighters’ (An Phoblacht, April 1971). The rhetoric of community dignity and survival were highly salient as Bosi’s interviews show, serving to mobilize those with weak or no former connections to the struggle (pp. 367–369). Moreover, this discursive tactic was inherently dynamic: it both communicated with and drew from the movement community, serving as a mechanism which reinforced the presented narrative.

Though the Officials also used the language of ‘pogroms’ and community defence, narrative entrenchment meant their policies continued to focus on mass political action. Still, contrary to the narrative supplied by Provisionals, the OIRA wielded significant influence in 1970: Bernadette Devlin stated that the organization held most of the Republican brainpower, manpower, and weaponry, especially in rural Northern Ireland (Hanley & Millar, 2009, p. 150). As Provisional rhetoric became increasingly militaristic, the Officials steadfastly committed to ‘the pattern and guidelines’ set out ‘for the achievement of democratic rights’: these statements from the OIRA’s 1970 Easter Statement cautioned against unproductive confrontations and promoted ‘mass struggle’ (The United Irishman, May 1970). The results of these policies were clear in Derry, where Official leadership sought to prevent ‘premature’ acts of violence, while attempting to direct organizational energies towards leftwing coalition building (Ó Dochartaigh, 2005, pp. 174–175). As the Provisionals increased their military operations, the more reserved Dublin leadership discursively attacked their ‘lunatic bombing’ campaigns and vague, inconsistent socialism (The United Irishman, October 1971).

The amorphous nature of identity, both between and within different resistance communities, meant the rhetorical impact of Official and Provisional narratives changed over time. Belfast neighbourhoods like Ardoyne, Andersonstown, and Ballymurphy were fluctuating entities containing vast amounts of internal difference (De Baróid, 2000, pp. 17–23); forcing a pre-arranged, deeply entrenched narrative risked ignoring, as Brubaker (2002) puts it, the ethno-political fluidity of their groupness. The Officials were justified in their critiques of the Provisional’s inconsistent politics, the social policies of which were often vague or impractical (Frampton, 2005; Finn, 2019, p. 85). However, this malleable ideology allowed Provisionals to adapt to differing circumstances in Belfast’s nationalist areas, while their defensive rhetoric drew in those inclined towards the ‘recognition struggle’ (Bosi, 2012). While the Officials maintained a presence in Belfast, by 1971 the PIRA was the dominant force (Hanley & Millar, 2009, p. 151). Alternatively, the Provisional presence in Derry prior to 1971 was close to non-existent, though Derry Officials liaised with leftist elements who espoused differing analyses of the state than those promoted by Dublin leadership (McCann, 2018, p. 133; Ó Dochartaigh, 2005, p. 175)

The complicating issue in understanding the Movements’ differing rhetorical appeals lay in their competing framing of imperialism and its relation to sectarianism. Both organizations held nationalist, anti-imperialist lines and, at least outwardly, claimed to be non-sectarian. However, examining the ideologies of each, patterns emerge. If progressive nationalism is understood as one which promotes ‘a fuller potential of humanity’, the Gouldingite narrative fit the definition (Welty, 1987, p. 121); the promotion of economic equality without regard for community allegiance speaks to this potential. Provisional nationalism was neither progressive nor reactionary, as its ideology during the 1970s lacked a sound foundation for comparison. The Provisionals were more clearly defined by rhetorical statements on action, praxis being central to their narrative stance.

In practice this meant that Provisionals' rhetorical assurances of non-sectarianism were not always reflected in their armed campaign, especially when compared to the Officials. Their assumption of a military role within politically charged Belfast boosted their prestige but also led to violence. McKeown’s (2009) study on deaths during the Troubles shows that 176 Protestants were killed in Northern Ireland from 1969–1972; of those, 31 were sectarian killings. In Belfast constituencies, where the Provisionals were at their height, 10 sectarian killings occurred and were subsequently attributed to the group. This accounts for 32% of all such Republican attacks, not including Republican attacks with no known organisational association. In Foyle and East Londonderry (Derry/Londonderry’s constituencies), where sectarianism had helped ignite the Troubles before being mostly relegated to the side-lines, a single, unplanned sectarian death occurred (McKeown, 2009; Ó Dochartaigh, 2005, pp. 140–141). While these attacks were not necessarily sanctioned by Provisional leadership, when taken with the ideological fluidity and the group’s militaristic rhetoric, the PIRA’s nationalism stands in stark contrast to that of the OIRA.

Yet the inconsistency between the Provisionals rhetoric and sectarian outcomes did not hinder the strength of their overriding contentious narrative: that of a deeply anti-imperial, non-reformist stance towards the northern Irish state. As in the transformative 1969 moment, the interplay between changes in social relations and the logic of discursive contestation brought these positions to the fore. The Officials’ relational power was waning by 1971. Though they had taken control of NICRA, the organization was hampered by its chronically weak presence in Belfast and a lack of mobilizing activity (Collins, 2018, p. 218; Purdie, 1990, p. 247). Officials were further impeded by antagonism from certain leftwingers: the People’s Democracy were put-off by the NLF’s top-down stages theory of reformist politics and political stagnation (‘People’s Democracy: What it Stands For, 1972, pp. 10–12). In Derry, young Officials mobilized by radical street activity prior to 1969 departed for the Provisional camp, while politically minded socialists were courted by third-way, working-class initiatives (McCann, 2018, p. 111).

The Provisionals benefited from these changes in social positioning prior to August 1971, as the mechanisms delineated by Bosi (2012) continued to channel disaffected activists towards an increasingly offensive armed struggle. However, it was the long-threatened British response which provided the definitive transformative moment in the northern political environment. Within the twelve-month span between August 1971 and July 1972, Operation Demetrius, Bloody Sunday, and Operation Motorman gave credence to the Provisional’s confrontational posture.

The mass public movement against internment sparked new life into NICRA which benefited the Official’s relational social position. However, in the discursive and policy arena, the organization was completely hamstrung by the entrenchment of their narrative direction. Constrained by the logic of their democratizing, anti-direct-rule rhetoric, Officials declared that internment was introduced ‘to smash people’s spirits by provoking a futile direct military confrontation’ (The United Irishman, December 1971). In essence, Officials moulded internment into their long-standing anti-EEC campaign, the basis of which grounded much of their argument for the preservation of Stormont (The United Irishman, June 1971, p. 8). They argued that interment was meant to incite an unwinnable conflict and force a federal solution, leading to Britain’s economic domination over the entirety of Ireland. By contrast, The Provisional IRA intensified their ‘Smash Stormont’ rhetoric, formally aligning with the People’s Democracy and committing to ‘offensive resistance’ and ‘total war’ (An Phoblacht, October 1971; Republican News, Week Ending Oct 30th 1971). Following the introduction of internment, Republican News went biweekly, and political analysis was mostly jettisoned by Provisional papers and replaced with news of military confrontations (O’Donnell, 2017, p. 55).

Leahy supports the argument that the maintenance of Stormont provoked stronger nationalist backlash while making the British military appear pro-unionist (2020, pp. 20–21). The ‘normative’ treatment of Northern Ireland as ‘a place apart’ reinforced the anti-imperial rhetoric of the Provisional elements (pp. 21–22), and the rapid discreditation of Stormont over the course of 1972 communally justified their more militant action. Bosi’s (2012) interviews show that these repressive acts removed any consideration of ‘constitutional policies’ or ‘reform’ (pp. 362, 368). The Official’s stages theory of democratization, deeply rooted in its long-entrenched narrative, fundamentally could not address the concerns of radicalizing Republican activists: their rhetoric, policies, and beliefs ‘had become straitjackets’ (Allen, 2016, p. 140). The combination of the Provisionals change in relational power vis a vis the northern state and the Official’s inability to rhetorically redress their dominant narrative played an important mechanistic role in the growing dominance of Provisional ideology. The subsequent Official ceasefire and the dissolution of Stormont in 1972 solidified the dominance of the provisional narrative within Republicanism.

Conclusion

The narrative contest that divided the Irish Republican Army assumed many forms and rhetorical modalities during the 1960s. In a political environment aware of its traditions and politically charged present, discursive contestation helped spur the development of Republican’s political projects. The outcomes of these contestations were mediated by deployments of rhetorical form and the social relations they were enmeshed within. The leftwing leadership which led the movement from 1962 effectively unsettled and reframed the existent Republican narrative, opening space for a progressively more socialist programme. Though this provided them inroads to influencing the northern Civil Rights Movement, exogenous events and a growingly inert policy agenda allowed new interlocutors to argumentatively challenge IRA/Sinn Féin policy while laying the groundwork for a revitalized narrative frame. The result was a fundamental, rhetorical incompatibility that helped predicate the 1969 Republican schism, after which discursive forms were utilized as a means for intra-movement competition.

The interplay of discursion and social relation is a complicated one (Emirbayer & Goodwin, 1994). The analysis provided here, with its appeal to both Kreb’s rhetorical schema and the relational approach of social movement scholars like Bosi attempts to offer an historical example of how narrative contestation actively affects actor agency, group cohesion, and ideological development. It assesses three oft-covered transformative moments within Republican history through a microanalytic lens in the hopes of furthering both the historical and theoretical understandings of the covered period. It further uses its framework to de-reify certain divisions within Republicanism and draw out the rhetorical facets of the active, dynamic relations which constituted the movement.

This latter goal is uniquely important in the context of Northern Irish political history. When analysing political outcomes, an overemphasis can be placed on individual actors, decisions, or events. This is particularly true in studies of rhetoric. Northern Irish historiography is awash with accusations of political ‘naivete’, reification of division, and the totalization of blame. One goal of this contribution is the problematisation of this academic tendency. The rhetoric of the Goulding leadership, and later both Official and Provisional Republicanism, was a complicated product of variable social relations, the constraining effects of narrative construction, and the applicability of different cultural languages. Discursive contestation was dynamic and occupied a plethora of overlapping arenas and audiences which included movement members, embattled communities, and apparatuses of the northern state. While changing environmental conditions rendered some rhetorical forms and narrative content more salient than others, the complexity of the social relations which comprised the Republican political environment makes it difficult to categorically dismiss the narrative direction of any given actor. Marxist Republicans had to draw from ‘cultural idioms’ native to a political tendency which lacked a powerful expression in 1960s Ireland, and they did so while contending with a significantly more entrenched revolutionary tradition. Likewise, the Provisional’s anti-Stormont militancy was a creatively deployed product of their unique narrative project. These outcomes were not deterministic, but they were subject to mediating influences which need to be considered when judging historical action.

Further analysis of contentious moments through discursive frameworks, as well as continued work on social relational theory within the Northern Irish context, will surely open the historiographic record up to novel explorative projects. Given historian’s unique ability to construct, entrench, and challenge the very narratives they assess, future applications of these fields to contested Irish histories in general, and the Troubles in particular, would surely be welcome.

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Darren Colbourne

Darren Colbourne is a doctoral candidate in history at Queen’s University Belfast. His dissertation focuses on the political identificational development of Northern Ireland's People's Democracy, comparing their evolution to othe mobilisations of the global New Left. His work uses cases not only from Northern Ireland's 'Long Sixties', but also similar movements in the Untied States.