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Victims
People who were bereaved or injured – or in some cases, both – had no choice but to respond to the Troubles. They have been forced to consider a range of responses: anger, revenge, hatred, bitterness, mercy, forgiveness, reconciliation and grace.
Victims’ voices are often absent from public conversations about dealing with the past, so we do not understand how they suffered at the time, how they manage their pain, and how they live with the legacy of the Troubles. For these reasons, we spoke to more victims than any other category of people. Some said they didn’t consider themselves victims; others called themselves survivors.
We have presented victims’ stories holistically, but there are common themes throughout. Ministers and other members of congregations supported most victims after the incident. But some victims felt abandoned by their church. Others doubted God, some asked Him ‘Why?’, some lost their faith altogether for a time. Many were comforted by prayer and reading the Bible, or by the idea that a just God would judge the perpetrators someday. Bereaved children were inspired by their grieving parent or parents – usually mothers – who made sure they grew up without bitterness. Others found solace in memorials to their loved ones, such as plaques in their local church; and by hearing their names recited on Remembrance Sunday. They still needed pastoral care, especially on the anniversaries of incidents. Some received this care; others did not. We did not ask victims directly about forgiveness. Most of them brought it up themselves. There was a range of perspectives: some had forgiven the perpetrators, others had not, and some hoped they would forgive them eventually. We asked victims about reconciliation, and their views diverged widely. Some thought reconciliation was impossible and even inappropriate if perpetrators did not repent; others thought it should be central to their lives and the mission of the Church.
For most, their faith and the support of their ministers and congregations had helped them heal – or at the very least, cope. But very few had much to say about the wider Presbyterian Church in Ireland (PCI). It did not impinge on their everyday lives, and they had never heard of its peacemaking programmes. Only one person mentioned participating in such a programme, which he found helpful. Others attended special events for victims organised by PCI, but criticised them for being insensitive and lacking follow-up.
‘It would be nice to have reconciliation, but at the same time our lives have been ruined.’
Anne’s father lost his legs in a car bomb. He had retired early from the Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR), but was targeted because of his previous work in the security forces. Anne’s mother developed dementia. Anne and her husband George cared for Anne’s parents until they died. Anne said, ‘We had a young family and our lives were wrecked.’
In those days, it was rare for someone to lose their legs and survive. But her father pulled through and learned to navigate life in his wheelchair. Anne’s mother, who died before her father, was more difficult to care for. ‘I literally lost my mother. It was quite horrific with her. I think a lot of it played on her mind, trying to deal with it.’ Her father lived nearby in his own house until he died at age ninety-three. He was resourceful, always fixing things and even gluing down objects around his house, like lamps, to keep from knocking them over as he went about in his wheelchair.’ She said, ‘He was a very determined man, and that’s how he survived. But we’ve missed out on our family growing up because they’ve had to grow up with Granda coming first.’
Anne’s father did not speak about the incident. He suffered severe bouts of pain and was confined to bed. At times, the pain was so much he rang Anne to come and sit with him during the night. Otherwise, he tried to get out of the house every day. He attended church until the pain became too much. George said, ‘He was more forgiving about it than I would be. He never spoke much about it. It was his way of coping.’ This reminded George of his father, who found the body of his own nephew, a policeman, who had been shot. ‘He never talked much about it either, although it affected him.’
Anne and George were supported by ministers in their congregations over the years, but they never expected or received counselling from any quarter. Their current minister is sensitive towards victims. They believe in the power of prayer. George was amazed that on the Sunday when his policeman cousin was still missing in another part of Northern Ireland, the Moderator visited his church and prayed that his body would be found. ‘The Moderator didn’t know there was a relative in the church. I got a phone call that afternoon to say his body had been found. I always felt he was speaking to me.’
Anne and George were frank in their assessments of the prospects for reconciliation. Anne said, ‘It would be nice to have reconciliation, but at the same time our lives have been ruined.’ George said ‘it’s not exactly anger’ that he feels, but ‘resentment that a lot of those boys who were at the back of those bombings are now in the government’. He is content to ‘live with’ people of the same religion as those who hurt his family, but thinks that ‘Corrymeela and those places where they talk about reconciliation are contrived. It doesn’t change the mind-set of your extremists’. Although George commended the churches for trying to promote reconciliation, he said their efforts would not get far because ‘your extremists wouldn’t be stepping through the church or chapel doors too much’. Anne was even less optimistic: ‘You’re talking about a lot of people that have been suffering and I don’t think any church, or any chapel, can make a difference.’
‘For me to reconcile with the boys that planted that bomb – there’s no chance.’
Johnston served in the police before the Troubles started. He was among those sent to Londonderry to deal with the first outbreaks of serious violence in the late 1960s. Later, he was one of the first on the scene after a bomb attack. He extinguished the flames on a young girl, saving her life.
Johnston and Paula were not surprised when their daughter, Samantha, followed her father into the police. Their lives were shattered when Samantha was killed in a bomb attack. Paula said, ‘To tell you the truth, we’re not over it yet. I lay in bed for a long time, I must admit. They had me on some sort of tablet.’ Paula has been especially haunted by the manner of her daughter’s death. Her body was not intact to prepare for burial. Paula initially lost her faith. ‘I didn’t believe God would let such a thing happen.’
Their minister visited and provided support. The local Catholic priest visited Johnston and Paula the day after Samantha died, and later read a eulogy for her in his chapel. Johnston said, ‘I worked with some very good fellas who are Roman Catholics. They stood here and cried when Samantha was killed.’ Paula said, ‘Gradually we started going back to church – but it took a while.’ She found comfort in the Bible. ‘I gradually came to the conclusion that it was meant to be, that there was nothing anybody could have done to stop it. My thinking was: Samantha’s death will be avenged.’
Johnston and Paula remain active in the community – serving others helped them deal with their loss. When asked about reconciliation, Paula said, ‘For me to reconcile with the boys that planted that bomb – there’s no chance. The way that word reconciliation is used – it’s meant to make victims reconcile with terrorists. I would not want to reconcile with Samantha’s killers, or meet them. I would rather remember Samantha’s face, not theirs.’
‘I just leave it up to the day of judgement.’
Jane’s son, Alan, was a policeman. He was murdered on duty when he was just twenty-five years old. ‘The police sent out a welfare man after he was murdered. We laughed at the stupid questions he asked: “How do you feel on Remembrance Sunday?” Sure, every day is Remembrance Day. People who haven’t come through it don’t know what it’s like.’
Jane feels Alan’s loss just as much now, perhaps even more. ‘On Father’s Day in church, you see his friends
