Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations: A History [1 ed.] 1032435968, 9781032435961, 9781032435978, 9781003368045

Table of contents :
Cover
Endorsements Page
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
List of Figures
Acknowledgements
A Quick Note on Language, Names and Placenames
Glossary of Acronyms
Glossary of Interviewees (May 2023)
1 Introduction: ‘A Centenary of Basque-Irish Friendship’
1 Introduction: ‘A Centenary of Basque-Irish Friendship’
Approaching the Basque and Irish Cases
1 Introduction: ‘A Centenary of Basque-Irish Friendship’
The Basque Case
1 Introduction: ‘A Centenary of Basque-Irish Friendship’
The Irish Case
2 ‘The Good News of the Resurgence of the Old Nationalities’: From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)
2 ‘The Good News of the Resurgence of the Old Nationalities’: From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)
The ‘Soldiers of Spain’ March On …
2 ‘The Good News of the Resurgence of the Old Nationalities’: From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)
Basque Milesians
2 ‘The Good News of the Resurgence of the Old Nationalities’: From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)
Towards a Basque-Irish Nexus, “If it Pleases Heaven, Some Future Day”
2 ‘The Good News of the Resurgence of the Old Nationalities’: From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)
A Basque-Irish Nationalist Nexus, 1895–1915 (North to South)
2 ‘The Good News of the Resurgence of the Old Nationalities’: From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)
A Basque-Irish Nationalist Nexus, 1895–1915 (South to North)
2 ‘The Good News of the Resurgence of the Old Nationalities’: From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)
Conclusion
3 ‘Let us Learn, Basques’: Fragments of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Nexus (1916–45)
3 ‘Let us Learn, Basques’: Fragments of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Nexus (1916–45)
Basque Reflections in the Irish Mirror
3 ‘Let us Learn, Basques’: Fragments of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Nexus (1916–45)
Republicans and Rebels (Part I)
3 ‘Let us Learn, Basques’: Fragments of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Nexus (1916–45)
Republicans and Rebels (Part II)
3 ‘Let us Learn, Basques’: Fragments of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Nexus (1916–45)
‘Black Ireland’
3 ‘Let us Learn, Basques’: Fragments of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Nexus (1916–45)
A Basque Village
3 ‘Let us Learn, Basques’: Fragments of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Nexus (1916–45)
Conclusion
4 ‘New Men who Today Act with New Ideas’: Towards a New Cycle of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations (1946–69)
4 ‘New Men who Today Act with New Ideas’: Towards a New Cycle of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations (1946–69)
Models of Modern Resistance
4 ‘New Men who Today Act with New Ideas’: Towards a New Cycle of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations (1946–69)
Sowing New Seeds
4 ‘New Men who Today Act with New Ideas’: Towards a New Cycle of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations (1946–69)
Between Green Fields and Red Flags
4 ‘New Men who Today Act with New Ideas’: Towards a New Cycle of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations (1946–69)
Boiling Point
4 ‘New Men who Today Act with New Ideas’: Towards a New Cycle of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations (1946–69)
Conclusion
5 ‘Are We Alone?’: From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83)
5 ‘Are We Alone?’: From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83)
The Burgos Trial and Belfast Ablaze
5 ‘Are We Alone?’: From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83)
Active Solidarity
5 ‘Are We Alone?’: From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83)
Revolutionaries on Tour
5 ‘Are We Alone?’: From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83)
Transitions
5 ‘Are We Alone?’: From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83)
The Long Wars
5 ‘Are We Alone?’: From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83)
A Changeover (In Four Parts)
5 ‘Are We Alone?’: From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83)
Conclusion
6 ‘One Struggle’: The Forging of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)
6 ‘One Struggle’: The Forging of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)
Towards a Multistrand Nexus (Part I)
6 ‘One Struggle’: The Forging of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)
Towards a Multistrand Nexus (Part II)
6 ‘One Struggle’: The Forging of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)
The Irish Mirror (Reprised)
6 ‘One Struggle’: The Forging of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)
The Basque Mirror
6 ‘One Struggle’: The Forging of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)
Conclusion
7 ‘Very Irish’: A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)
7 ‘Very Irish’: A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)
From Belfast to Bilbao
7 ‘Very Irish’: A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)
A Window of Opportunity
7 ‘Very Irish’: A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)
Picking up the Pieces
7 ‘Very Irish’: A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)
Ending ETA
7 ‘Very Irish’: A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)
Conclusion
8 ‘Gora Rebeldiak!’: Reflections on the History of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations
8 ‘Gora Rebeldiak!’: Reflections on the History of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations
Shared Political Culture, Shared Enemy
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

“An essential work, well-documented and, at the same time, attractive to a wide audience.” Santiago de Pablo, University of the Basque Country “A thoughtful, comparative history of a major subject. A fascinating and valuable book.” Richard English, Queen’s University Belfast

Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations

This volume explains the genesis and development of the nexus between radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans, how they have learnt from each other historically, and how they have utilised this relationship, at times, to their benefit. From medieval tales of shared origins to the violent conflicts largely wrought by ETA and the IRA, the Basque Country and Ireland have long been associated in popular imagination. Despite this, little is known of historical Basque-Irish relations and, in particular, the web of party-political, military and social movement connections between radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans since the Irish Revolutionary Period (1916–23). Drawing on extensive archival research undertaken in Spain, Ireland and the UK, and more than 70 interviews conducted with politicians, former paramilitaries and grassroots activists, this is the first study to comprehensively document and analyse the emergence, evolution and implications of this mythified transnational relationship. Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations: A History will appeal to students and scholars of Irish republicanism, Basque nationalism, terrorism studies and social movements studies, as well as those interested in the contemporary history of Western Europe’s two most volatile regions. Niall Cullen is a researcher at the University of the Basque Country (UPV/ EHU)—Department of Public Law, Historical-Legal Sciences and History of Political Thought. He holds a PhD in Contemporary History from UPV/EHU and has published several articles on Irish republican-Basque nationalist relations.

Routledge/Cañada Blanch Studies on Contemporary Spain Edited by Paul Preston and Sebastian Balfour, Cañada Blanch Centre for Contemporary Spanish Studies, London School of Economics, UK

26  War in Spain Appeasement, Collective Insecurity, and the Failure of European Democracies Against Fascism David Jorge 27  Monarchy and Liberalism in Spain The Building of the Nation-State, 1780–1931 Edited by David San Narciso, Margarita Barral-Martínez and Carolina Armenteros 28  Fascist Italy in the Spanish Civil War, 1936–1939 Javier Rodrigo 29  Democracy and Sovereignty in Spain Conceptual Innovation in the Spanish Constituent Assembly of 1931 Francisco J. Bellido 30  The Spanish Anarchists and the Russian Revolution, 1917–24 Anguish and Enthusiasm Arturo Zoffmann Rodriguez 31  Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations A History Niall Cullen Also published in association with the Cañada Blanch Centre: Spain and the Great Powers in the Twentieth Century Edited by Sebastian Balfour and Paul Preston The Politics of Contemporary Spain Edited by Sebastian Balfour For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge.com/ RoutledgeCanada-Blanch-Studies-on-Contemporary-Spain/book-series/PAULPRESTON

Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations A History

Niall Cullen

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 Niall Cullen The right of Niall Cullen to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Cullen, Niall, author. Title: Radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations : a history / Niall Cullen. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2024. | Series: Routledge/Cañada Blanch studies on contemporary Spain ; 31 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2023029262 (print) | LCCN 2023029263 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032435961 (hbk) | ISBN 9781032435978 (pbk) | ISBN 9781003368045 (ebk) | ISBN 9781003806806 (adobe pdf) | ISBN 9781003806813 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: ETA (Organization) | Irish Republican Army. | Nationalists—Spain—País Vasco. | Nationalists—Northern Ireland. | País Vasco (Spain)—Relations—Northern Ireland. | Northern Ireland—Relations—Spain—País Vasco. | País Vasco (Spain)— History—Autonomy and independence movements. | Ireland— History—Autonomy and independence movements. Classification: LCC DP302.B53 C855 2024 (print) | LCC DP302.B53 (ebook) | DDC 324.2415/083—dc23/eng/20230815 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023029262 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023029263 ISBN: 978-1-032-43596-1 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-43597-8 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-36804-5 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003368045 Typeset in Sabon by codeMantra

Contents

List of Figures ix Acknowledgementsxi A Quick Note on Language, Names and Placenames xiii Glossary of Acronyms xv Glossary of Interviewees (May 2023) xix 1 Introduction: ‘A Centenary of Basque-Irish Friendship’ Approaching the Basque and Irish Cases  4 The Basque Case  6 The Irish Case  9 2 ‘The Good News of the Resurgence of the Old Nationalities’: From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) The ‘Soldiers of Spain’ March On …  20 Basque Milesians  22 Towards a Basque-Irish Nexus, “If it pleases Heaven, some future day”  24 A Basque-Irish Nationalist Nexus, 1895–1915 (North to South) 27 A Basque-Irish Nationalist Nexus, 1895–1915 (South to North) 31 Conclusion 33 3 ‘Let us Learn, Basques’: Fragments of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Nexus (1916–45) Basque Reflections in the Irish Mirror  40 Republicans and Rebels (Part I)  54 Republicans and Rebels (Part II)  62 ‘Black Ireland’  72 A Basque Village  79 Conclusion 82

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viii Contents 4 ‘New Men who Today Act with New Ideas’: Towards a New Cycle of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations (1946–69) Models of Modern Resistance  97 Sowing New Seeds  113 Between Green Fields and Red Flags  118 Boiling Point  124 Conclusion 126 5 ‘Are We Alone?’: From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83) The Burgos Trial and Belfast Ablaze  138 Active Solidarity  142 Revolutionaries on Tour  146 Transitions 153 The Long Wars  165 A Changeover (In Four Parts)  173 Conclusion 178

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6 ‘One Struggle’: The Forging of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) 195 Towards a Multistrand Nexus (Part I)  196 Towards a Multistrand Nexus (Part II)  206 The Irish Mirror (Reprised)  212 The Basque Mirror  224 Conclusion 229 7 ‘Very Irish’: A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) From Belfast to Bilbao  240 A Window of Opportunity  254 Picking up the Pieces  268 Ending ETA  276 Conclusion 289 8 ‘Gora Rebeldiak!’: Reflections on the History of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations Shared Political Culture, Shared Enemy  307 Bibliography Index

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311 329

Figures

3.1 ‘Un propagandista irlandés’ (An Irish propagandist) 6.1 ‘Two Nations, Same Struggle’ 7.1 ‘The Pathway to Peace: Pake Bidean. Free Otegi’

53 211 281

Acknowledgements

This book would not have been possible without the expert advice and criticism I have received from colleagues at the University of the Basque Country and elsewhere over the past decade. In particular, I would like to thank my PhD supervisor, Ludger Mees, who, as well as putting manners on my early research ideas, has been a constant source of knowledge, guidance and friendship throughout my time in the Basque Country. I must also say a special thanks to my viva voce panel of Santiago de Pablo, Jesús Casquete, Leyre Arrieta Alberdi, Richard English and Anwen Elias. Their collective insights have assisted me greatly in turning a somewhat unwieldy PhD dissertation into a (hopefully) more concise book. In addition, Andreas Hess, Brian Hanley, Cameron Watson, Kyle McCreanor, Gorka Etxebarria Dueñas, Aritz Farwell and Adrián Almeida Díez kindly offered me valuable feedback and suggestions on specific sections and chapters. I would also like to express my gratitude to Robert Langham and his team at Routledge for preparing this text with diligence and professionalism. Approximately 75 people agreed to be interviewed for this study (some on more than one occasion), with each and every conversation helping to further my understanding of the topic at hand. A heartfelt thank you to all those who kindly offered up their free time to speak to me in their homes, workplaces, neighbourhood bars and cafés all across the Basque Country and Ireland. Ever since I began the PhD on which this book is based, family and friends in Ireland and the Basque Country have never failed to lend me their ears, offer me encouragement and, if and when required, admirably feign interest in the progress of my research. Go raibh maith agaibh! Eskerrik asko guztioi! Finally, to my parents, Don and Helen, and my wife, Aiala, this book is for you.

A Quick Note on Language, Names and Placenames

All primary source excerpts written or spoken in the Spanish, Basque, Irish and French languages have been translated into English. Where missing from primary and secondary sources, I have added a síneadh fada (e.g., á, é, í) to mentions of Sinn Féin and other Irish words for consistency. For convenience, I have tended to use only the first surname of Spanish and Basque individuals throughout the main body of the text. I have made a handful of exceptions for individuals usually referred to in the literature by their two legal surnames. As a general rule of thumb, I have used English placenames over their Spanish, Basque, French and Irish equivalents whenever an English form exists and is reasonably well known (e.g., Biscay instead of Bizkaia/Vizcaya). For Basque, Irish, Spanish and French placenames that do not have a wellknown English version, I have used the form with which I am most familiar.

Glossary of Acronyms

AHE ANC ANdeC ANV ANV-AA ARB BAC BDA BFG BIA BSC CAA CGV CNV CPI DSD DUP EA EAB EAS EBB ECHR EE EEC EG EGI EH EHAS EIA EMB EMK EOKA ETA

Archivo Histórico de Euskadi African National Congress Arxiu Nacional de Catalunya Acción Nacionalista Vasca Archivo del Nacionalismo Vasco-Abertzaletasunaren Agiritegia Armée Républicaine Bretonne/Armée Révolutionnaire Bretonne Basque Autonomous Community Basic Democratic Agreement Basque Friendship Group Basque Izquierda Abertzale Basque Solidarity Committees Comandos Autónomos Anticapitalistas Consejo General Vasco Comunión Nacionalista Vasco Communist Party of Ireland Downing Street Declaration Democratic Unionist Party Eusko Alkartasuna Emakume Abertzale Batza Euskal Alderdi Sozilialista Euskadi Buru Batzar European Court of Human Rights Euskadiko Ezkerra European Economic Community Eusko Gaztedi Eusko Gaztedi del Interior Euskal Herritarrok Euskal Herriko Alderdi Sozialista Euskal Iraultzarako Alderdia Euzkadi Mendigoizale Batza Euskadiko Mugimendu Komunista Ethniki Organosis Kyprion Agoniston Euskadi ‘ta Askatasuna

xvi  Glossary of Acronyms ETA-m ETA-pm EU FAB FARC FCO FLB FLN FO FRAP FSLN GAL GFA GPO HAS HASI HB HMG ICF IICD IITC IMA INLA IPP IRA IRB IRM IRSP KAS LBF LLB MEP MLA MLNV MP NA NAI NIA NICRA NLI OIRA OSF ÓSF OUT PCE

Euskadi ‘ta Askatasuna-militarra Euskadi ‘ta Askatasuna-politiko-militarra European Union Foreign Affairs Bureau Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia Foreign & Commonwealth Office Front de Libération de la Bretagne Front de Libération Nationale Foreign Office Frente Revolucionario Antifascista y Patriota Frente Sandinista de Liberación Nacional Grupos Antiterroristas de Liberación Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement General Post Office Herriko Alderdi Sozialista Herri Alderdi Sozialista Iraultzalea Herri Batasuna Her Majesty’s Government Irish Christian Front Independent International Commission on Decommissioning Irish-Iberian Trading Company Irish Military Archives Irish National Liberation Army Irish Parliamentary Party Irish Republican Army Irish Republican Brotherhood Irish Republican Movement Irish Republican Socialist Party Koordinadora Abertzale Sozialista Lazkaoko Beneditarren Fundazioa Linenhall Library, Belfast Member of the European Parliament Member of the Legislative Assembly Movimiento de Liberación Nacional Vasco Member of Parliament National Archives National Archives of Ireland Northern Ireland Assembly Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association National Library of Ireland ‘Official’ Irish Republican Army ‘Official’ Sinn Féin Ógra Shinn Féin Organização Unitária de Trabalhadores Partido Comunista de España

Glossary of Acronyms  xvii PHEH PIRA PLO PNV PP PSE PSE-EE PSF PSOE PTV RAF RIC RUC SDLP TD UCDA UDA UDB UDR UK UN UPG UPN UPV/EHU US/USA USFA USSR UUP UVF VNA

Punto y Hora de Euskal Herria ‘Provisional’ Irish Republican Army Palestine Liberation Organization Partido Nacionalista Vasco Partido Popular Partido Socialista de Euskadi Partido Socialista de Euskadi-Euskadiko Ezkerra ‘Provisional’ Sinn Féin Partido Socialista Obrero Español Pueblo Trabajador Vasco Red Army Faction Royal Irish Constabulary Royal Ulster Constabulary Social Democratic and Labour Party Teachta Dála University College Dublin Archives Ulster Defence Association Unvaniezh Demokratel Breizh Ulster Defence Regiment United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland United Nations Unión do Povo Galego Unión del Pueblo Navarro Universidad del País Vasco/Euskal Herriko Unibertsitatea United States/United States of America Under-Secretary of Foreign Affairs Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Ulster Unionist Party Ulster Volunteer Force violent non-state actor

Glossary of Interviewees (May 2023)

Bertie Ahern  Taoiseach of Ireland (1997–2008). Signatory to the Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement (1998). Involved in Basque peace initiatives. Joseba Álvarez  Senior political figure in the Basque izquierda abertzale over the past three decades. Member of the Basque Parliament (2001–5). Pernando Barrena  Senior political figure in the Basque izquierda abertzale over the past three decades. Member of the European Parliament (2019– Present). Member of the Parliament of Navarre (1999–2003). Richard Behal  Former IRA member. Involved in the international affairs of ‘Provisional’ Sinn Féin (c.1973–c.83). Interview conducted by phone. Diarmuid Breatnach  Former coordinator of the Dublin-based ‘Basque Solidarity Committee’. Matt Carthy  Sinn Féin Teachta Dála (2020–Present). Member of the European Parliament (2014–20). National Organiser of Sinn Féin Youth/ Ógra Shinn Féin (1998–2000). Michael Culbert  Former IRA member. Director of Coiste na hIarmchí (a republican ex-­prisoner committee). Bairbre de Brún  Member of the European Parliament (2004–12). Member of the Northern Ireland Legislative Assembly (1998–2004). Senior figure in Sinn Féin’s international, language and women’s departments/sections over the past three decades. Gorka Elejabarrieta  Senator for Gipuzkoa (2019–Present). Involved in the international affairs of the Basque izquierda abertzale since 2002.

xx  Glossary of Interviewees Gorka Espiau  Director of the Agirre Lehendakaria Center for Social and Political Studies. Former member of the Basque social movement for peace and dialogue Elkarri. Rufi Etxeberria  Senior political figure in the Basque izquierda abertzale over the past three decades. Member of the Gipuzkoa Parliament (1987–91). Negotiator for Batasuna during the Loiola talks of 2006 and the Geneva talks of 2007. Eugenio Etxebeste (Antxon)  Former head of ETA’s political apparatus. Involved in the Algerian talks of the late 1980s. Iker Gallastegi (Gatari)  Active in Eusko Gaztedi/Eusko Gaztedi del Interior (c.1952–c.62). Son of the prominent radical Basque nationalist Eli Gallastegi. Interviewed in 2017, Iker Gallastegi has since passed away. Denis Haughey  Member of the Northern Ireland Legislative Assembly (1998–2003). Founding member of the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP). Former head of the SDLP’s international relations. Juan José Ibarretxe  Basque Lehendakari (1999–2009). Deputy Lehendakari (1995–99). Roy Johnston  Senior figure in Sinn Féin and the IRA in the 1960s. Karmelo Landa  Senior political figure in the Basque izquierda abertzale over the past three decades. Member of the European Parliament (1990–94). Member of the Basque Parliament (1994–98). Damian Lawlor  National Organiser of Ógra Shinn Féin (2000–2002). Julen Madariaga  Founding member of Ekin (c.1952) and ETA (1959). Interviewed in 2016, Julen Madariaga has since passed away. Alex Maskey  Prominent Irish republican. Member of the Northern Ireland Legislative Assembly (2003–Present). Lord Mayor of Belfast (2002–3). Gerry McAlinden  Involved in the international relations of ‘Official’ Sinn Féin/Sinn Féin – The Workers’ Party during the 1970s. José María “Txema” Montero  Former member of Herri Batasuna and Member of the European Parliament (1987–90).

Glossary of Interviewees  xxi Danny Morrison  Prominent Irish republican. Director of Publicity for Sinn Féin (1979–90). Editor of Republican News (1975–79) and An Phoblacht/ Republican News (1979–82). Member of the Northern Ireland Assembly (1982–86). Eoin Ó Broin  Sinn Féin Teachta Dála (2016–Present). Belfast City Councillor (2001–4). National Organiser of Sinn Féin Youth (1997–98). Javier Olaverri  Former senior figure in Euskal Iraultzarako Alderdia. Member of the Basque Parliament (1980–90). Eoin Ó Murchú  Prominently involved in ‘Official’ Sinn Féin in the early 1970s. Founding member of ‘Official’ Sinn Féin’s International Secretariat. Josetxo Otegi  Formerly involved in the international relations of Basque izquierda abertzale youth groups. José Ramón Peñagarikano  Leading figure in the international relations of Euskal Iraultzarako Alderdia during the late 1970s and early 1980s. Jonathan Powell  Former British diplomat and Downing Street Chief of Staff (1997–2007). Involved in Irish and Basque peace initiatives. Pat Rice  Sinn Féin Councillor for Lisburn (1985–97). Involved in Sinn Féin’s international relations from 1985 to 1999. Paul Rios  Former coordinator of the Basque social movement for peace and dialogue Lokarri. Former spokesperson for Elkarri. Iñaki Ruiz de Pinedo  Member of the Spanish Congress of Deputies (2019– Present). Member of the Basque Parliament (1980–94). Iñaki Soto  Director of the Basque daily newspaper GARA. Alexander Ugalde  Former member of Herri Alderdi Sozialista Iraultzalea’s Executive Committee and Herri Batasuna’s External Relations Committee. Eduardo “Teo” Uriarte  Former ETA member and Burgos Trial defendant. Member of the Basque Parliament for Euskadiko Ezkerra (1980–86). Arturo Villanueva  Formerly involved in the international relations of Basque izquierda abertzale youth groups.

xxii  Glossary of Interviewees Séanna “Breatnach” Walsh  Former IRA member. Belfast City Councillor (2102–Present). Paddy Woodworth  Journalist and author of two books on the Basque Country. Former member of ‘Official’ Sinn Féin/Sinn Féin – The Workers’ Party. Additional interviews: Some 40 additional interviews were carried out for this study, the majority of which were conducted with grassroots activists drawn from the political cultures of radical Basque nationalism and Irish republicanism.

1 Introduction ‘A Centenary of Basque-Irish Friendship’

We are honoured to have him here today. ‘Two Peoples, One Struggle’. Or as they say in Basque, ‘Bi Herri, Borroka Bat’. Please give a rousing republican welcome to the leader of the Basque independence movement, Arnaldo Otegi. With the above words, Sinn Féin Teachta Dála (TD) Eoin Ó Broin welcomed Arnaldo Otegi on stage at the Irish republican party’s 2016 Ard Fheis (High Assembly). For Otegi, political leader of the Basque pro-independence party Sortu (Arise) and former member of the armed militant group Euskadi ‘ta Askatasuna (ETA, Basque Homeland and Freedom), the “honour” was mutual. One hundred years since the 1916 Rising against British rule in Ireland and with Sinn Féin in celebratory mood, Otegi took to the stage in Dublin to thunderous applause. Only one month earlier, the controversial Basque leader had walked out of a Spanish prison having completed a six-and-a-halfyear sentence on charges of attempting to reorganise the ETA-centric political party Batasuna (Unity). Between the intense media scrutiny and catching up with family, friends and comrades, it had been a hectic few weeks for Otegi. Beginning his speech at the Ard Fheis with a light-hearted joke, Otegi extended his best wishes to Irish republicans on the centenary of the 1916 Rising before praising the “heroic” men and women of the Long Kesh (H-Block) Hunger Strike of 1981. Both events, in his words, “remain an inescapable reference for all those who desire the freedom and equality of humanity”. Relayed in English by Sinn Féin Member of the (Northern Ireland) Legislative Assembly (MLA) Alex Maskey, the closing section of Otegi’s SpanishBasque bilingual address to the Sinn Féin delegates earned the Basque leader a standing ovation: We are proud of our historical brother and sisterhood with our gallant Irish republican comrades. And we will strengthen and deepen those ties of solidarity between our peoples in the times ahead. Our task is to stand shoulder to shoulder in our struggles to build republics fitting for our people[s]. Cairde [Friends], our day will come when a united Irish DOI: 10.4324/9781003368045-1

2 Introduction Republic and a free, united Basque Republic stand shoulder to shoulder among the nations of the earth and a more just and equal world. And until that day comes, we will work together tirelessly and with a smile. As in the words of Bobby Sands, ‘our revenge will be the laughter of our children’. Finally, with a clenched fist in the air and a shout of “Up the Rebels! Gora Rebeldiak!”, Otegi, flanked by Maskey, began to make his way off stage.1 As the above quotes exemplify, Arnaldo Otegi’s eight-minute oration at the 2016 Sinn Féin Ard Fheis sought to evoke and encompass the past, present and future “ties of solidarity” across the “historical brother and sisterhood” of the Basque izquierda abertzale (BIA, Basque patriotic left) and Irish republican movement (IRM). In the same spirit, the Basque leader also laid a wreath and spoke at an event “celebrating a centenary of Basque-Irish friendship” at Arbour Hill cemetery in Dublin, where 14 of the executed 1916 Rising leaders lie buried.2 Statements of mutual “solidarity” and historical references to “BasqueIrish friendship” aside, what is actually known of the emergence, evolution and historical implications of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations? In other words, if one deconstructs the axiom of shared solidarity that Otegi, Ó Broin, Maskey and others who traverse this nexus regularly speak of: How and why does this relationship exist? How and why has it historically existed? From a historiographical perspective, the short answer to these questions is that we do not know. Although contemporary Irish republicans and radical Basque nationalists may speak to a deep sense of historical brotherhood and solidarity across their political cultures, theirs is, in fact, a hitherto mostly undocumented relationship, with authoritative research on Basque-Irish transnational relations and influences only covering aspects of this phenomenon from the late nineteenth century to circa 1939.3 As for the post-1939 historiography, nearly all scholarly research has focused on comparative elements of the BIA and IRM (and, by extension, their respective case contexts) as distinct from the primary concern of this present study: the emergence, evolution and implications of the transnational relations that have historically existed between the two political cultures. Finally, and in contributing to an often sensationalised and ‘hearsay’ understanding of this nexus, most academics and journalists continue to rely on a handful of decades-­ old quotes in anchoring the supposed nature and extent of the historical relationship between ETA and the Irish Republican Army (IRA).4 Given the sizeable gap in the literature; our lack of knowledge and understanding regarding the true scope and dynamic of this transnational relationship; the current electoral strength of Sinn Féin and Sortu in their respective territories, and the political utilisation of a simplistic “Two Peoples, One Struggle” metanarrative, it is timely and appropriate that this “cent[ury] of Basque-Irish friendship” is examined and analysed from primary source

Introduction  3 material. Indeed, historical Basque-Irish relations preceding the 1916 Rising shall also be dealt with (see Chapter 2). To meet this objective, I pose the following three interlinked, cumulative and mostly verifiable questions, the first of which may be considered exploratory, the second explanatory, and the third correlative: What are the historical facts (i.e., individuals, groups, encounters, discourse) that have underpinned the relationship between Irish republicanism and radical Basque nationalism? How and why has this relationship evolved in the manner that it has across multiple eras, individuals, organisations and movement strands (e.g., political, military, youth, cultural, prisoner, European, women, historical memory)? And finally, has this nexus had any tangible impact (and if so, how?) on the historical development of the political cultures of the BIA and IRM and, by extension, their associated conflicts? Addressing these questions not only contributes to the existing literature on Irish republicanism, radical Basque nationalism and their respective historical transnational relations (as independent phenomena),5 but it also lends a case study rich in historical context to social movement and terrorism studies research on the dynamics of how and why various forms of transnational entity-to-entity relations emerge, how they are sustained, and what some of their related consequences are.6 As protagonists in a world of nations, there is a natural tendency for nationalist movements such as the BIA and IRM to look towards external models, including each other, in order to advance their national projects. What is more, research has shown that the development of transnational relations (e.g., contacts, propaganda, collaboration) and discursive solidarity expressed between ‘oppressed nations’, as per the rhetoric of Otegi et al., may lend extra legitimacy to a nationalist cause.7 That nationalist movements tend to gravitate towards each other, however, does not mean that the emergence and development of a transnational relationship such as that of the BIA and IRM is some sort of historical ‘given’, or fait accompli, devoid of historical agency and contingency. Indeed, whether motivated by instrumentalism or altruism, transnational solidarity does not, and cannot, exist ex nihilo. Rather, it requires an expressed rationale, a plethora of factors that pivot, frame and motivate feelings, expressions and actions of solidarity towards specific individuals, groups, nations and their causes, and not necessarily to others. In short, political cultures such as the BIA and IRM tend to mobilise emotions—not in a vacuum—but in relation to others.8 Pinpointing what underlining factors have motivated and scaffolded radical Basque nationalistIrish republican expressions of solidarity and relations at various historical junctures is, therefore, significant to this study: Have they emanated from a mutual feeling of oppression? shared left-wing ideology? historical demands for Irish and Basque self-determination? the existence of an armed component in each movement? geographic proximity? political opportunism?, and so on. Likewise, identifying the micro- (e.g., individual relationships), meso- (e.g., party policy) and macro-level (e.g., international geopolitics)

4 Introduction contingencies that have historically provoked, guided, impinged upon, driven and/or constrained the contours and depth of this nexus across various eras is equally relevant. Utilising primary source material such as interviews with key BIA-IRM nexus ‘brokers’, ‘nodes’ and third-party figures, as well as analysis of radical Basque nationalist and Irish republican literature, these variable factors and contingencies shall be explored throughout the following chapters, informing our final analysis. Returning to the 2016 Ard Fheis, the then Sinn Féin leader, Gerry Adams, took the opportunity of his presidential address to personally welcome Arnaldo Otegi—long referred to as the “Basque Gerry Adams” in international media—as both a “good friend” and a “voice for peace” in the Basque Country. Adams, for his part, had been involved in Basque political initiatives since at least the early 1990s. Most notably, in October 2011, the Sinn Féin leader had participated in an ‘International Conference to Promote the Resolution of the Conflict in the Basque Country’ in the Basque city of San Sebastián. At the culmination of the 2011 conference, several prominent international ‘peace brokers’, among them, Adams, Kofi Annan (former Secretary General of the United Nations [UN]), Bertie Ahern (former Taoiseach of Ireland) and Jonathan Powell (former Downing Street Chief of Staff), issued a joint statement calling on ETA “to make a public declaration of the definitive cessation of all armed action and to request talks with the governments of Spain and France”.9 Four days later, on 21 October 2011, ETA responded positively to the international group’s call and, in doing so, marked the end of an armed campaign for Basque independence that had cost well over 800 lives.10 Reflecting on the conference in San Sebastián and the Irish peace process of the 1990s, Adams affirmed that “violence usually occurs when people believe there is no alternative. Transforming a situation from conflict to peace requires creating an alternative”. For Adams and the broader Sinn Féin narrative around the Irish peace process, the Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement (GFA) of 1998 constituted, and still constitutes, the above “alternative” context by which republicans could thenceforth pursue a united Ireland by exclusively peaceful means.11 In the absence of a comparable overarching agreement in the Basque context, historians and analysts have sought to explain ETA’s unilateral journey towards a definitive cessation of its armed activities in 2011. Mindful of this line of research and in seeking to build on the key questions outlined previously, a secondary aim of this study is to gauge if (and if so, to what extent?) the Irish republican movement’s relationship with its Basque comrades may have lent itself to creating an “alternative” disposition in the Basque Country, from which a conflictive situation has been transformed, akin to Northern Ireland, to one of relative peace.12 Approaching the Basque and Irish Cases The past, let alone the fuzzy notion of a true objective past, cannot be visited or verified. As such, it is impossible to know.13 Therefore, the challenge

Introduction  5 for the historian is to find and assess what fragments of the past remain, to evaluate, choose, arrange and embed them (whilst dismissing others) into a historical narrative. At the same time, he or she must constantly be aware of and check against the subtle, or not-so-subtle inclinations and prejudices that render objectivity impossible. A third factor, and one which is particularly salient to this present study, centres on the immediate context in which the period of historical investigation is undertaken and written. In this instance, the largely congruent phases of political violence that have dominated the recent histories of the Basque Country and Ireland (and more specifically, Northern Ireland) are still very much raw, with thousands of victims directly or indirectly affected by violence. Moreover, multiple and often opposed interpretations of the recent past remain firmly woven into the fabric of both societies, as evidenced by competing party-political and media discourse. In his influential study, What is History? the late British historian Edward Hallett Carr suggested that “when you read a work of history, always listen out for the buzzing. If you can detect none, either you are tone deaf or your historian is a dull dog”.14 In such highly charged and emotional contexts as the Basque Country and Northern Ireland, it is natural that historians may act as “buzzing” protagonists in the daily battle of narratives. In my opinion, an approach in which all major contending political viewpoints are at least partially addressed is therefore required; that is, an approach that dispassionately explicates the principles, reasonings, political interpretations and historical understandings of the research subjects under scrutiny, as opposed to an a priori political, moral or normative engagement. As Richard English, a historian of Irish nationalism from a British/Northern Irish unionist background, notes: “one’s arguments, however stringent they may seem, should be based on an honest attempt to understand that which one politically does not sympathise”.15 Not to do so is to undermine the fundamental purpose of historical investigation: a furthering of our knowledge and understanding of the past. The main research subjects under scrutiny in this present study are the political cultures of radical Basque nationalism and Irish republicanism. Regarding the former, historians often use the terms Movimiento de Liberación Nacional Vasco (MLNV, Basque National Liberation Movement), Basque izquierda abertzale and/or ‘radical Basque nationalism’ interchangeably when referring to the political culture that has historically coalesced around ETA (founded in 1959).16 I use the term radical Basque nationalism when referring to this political culture’s pre-1959 antecedents (e.g., aberrianismo, Jagi-Jagi—see Chapter 3) and, as reflected in the title of this book, when discussing its combined pre- and post-1959 historical manifestations. When referring solely to the post-1959 era, I normally use the term Basque izquierda abertzale, as I believe it best encapsulates the cluster of ancillary sectors and organisations that gradually emerged and developed around ETA. My use of the adjective ‘radical’ stems from the widely accepted historical demarcation

6 Introduction that exists between ‘radical’ and ‘moderate’ Basque nationalist political cultures, organisations, principles and praxis (see Chapter 3). Turning to the Irish case, and as shall be expanded upon later in this chapter, the roots of Irish republicanism may be traced back to the late eighteenth century. For most of the twentieth century and until the present day, the term ‘Irish republican movement’ has been used to refer to the political culture that encapsulates the island-wide political party of Sinn Féin (We Ourselves), the IRA, and several related advocacy groups and auxiliary organisations (e.g., prisoner, youth, women). In Cynthia L. Irvin’s comparative study of these two political cultures, Militant Nationalism: Between Movement and Party in Ireland and the Basque Country, the author conceptualises both the Basque izquierda abertzale and the Irish republican movement as essentially multiform social movements that “[defy] any neat organizational characterization”. Published in 1999 when both the IRA and ETA were still significant components of their respective political cultures, Irvin described the BIA and IRM as employing three types of overlapping collective action: violent; disruptive (nonviolent direct action and protest that may or many to be legal); and conventional, in the form of parliamentary politics. Irvin’s triangular characterisation of the BIA and IRM shall ground our working definition for the principal protagonists of this study.17 While the armed campaigns of ETA and the IRA have largely dominated the recent histories of the Basque Country and the island of Ireland, conflictive cases such as the Basque and Irish have been noted for their shifting temporality of causes, meaning that initial aggravating factors have tended to feed into new paradigms of grievance and friction over time.18 Before addressing the issue of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations, it is therefore necessary to provide modest historical overviews of the Basque and Irish cases as stand-alone phenomena. Making up the remainder of this introductory chapter, the following overviews shall provide a longue durée depth to the provenance and evolution of the contentious issues that have historically dominated, and continue to dominate, the “unending dialogue between the past and the present” in the Basque Country and Ireland.19 The Basque Case The Basque Country is located in the southwest of Europe, precisely where the Iberian Peninsula and the main continental landmass meet at the confluence of the Cantabrian Sea and the northward sweep of the Bay of Biscay. It consists of seven historical provinces, straddled across the western Pyrenees and unfolding south towards the River Ebro and north to the River Adour. Four of these provinces, Álava, Biscay, Gipuzkoa and Navarre, sometimes collectively referred to as Hegoalde (southern side) in the Basque language, form part of the Spanish State. The remaining three, Labourd, Soule and Lower Navarre, often referred to as Iparralde (northern side), form part of

Introduction  7 the French State. The earliest-known collective name for these seven provinces, Euskal Herria (Land of the Basque Speakers), reflects, in toponymic terms, the Basques’ most distinctive trait: their language, Euskara (Euskera or Vasco in Spanish; Basque in English).20 As one of only a handful of surviving pre-Indo-European tongues in Europe and surrounded by a sea of Romance languages, Euskara is intimately bound up in Basque identity. Indeed, despite successive Phoenician, Celtic, Greek, Carthaginian, Roman, Vandal, Visigoth and Moorish settlements across Iberia throughout millennia—bringing an array of cultures, traditions, languages, as well as political, legal and social norms—a characteristic cultural and linguistic Basque particularism remains strong.21 As the political dominance of the last of these groups, the Moors, slowly receded southwards during the first centuries of the Reconquista (Reconquest), several Christian kingdoms in the peninsula’s northern half emerged in the ensuing vacuum. During the reign of Sancho Garcés III (c.992–1035), the Kingdom of Pamplona (later the Kingdom of Navarre) greatly expanded its territory and influence across northern Iberia and modern southwest France, therein encompassing the seven provinces of Euskal Herria. Whether one considers the medieval Kingdom of Navarre a ‘Basque’ antecedent to modern Euskal Herria or dismisses the idea as a post hoc anachronism, the region’s contested status remains a fundamental element of the Basque political dynamic.22 In the wake of Sancho Garcés III’s death, his lands were divided among his sons, setting in train the incremental fragmentation of the kingdom and the gradual absorption of its predominantly Basque-speaking territories into the emerging dominant force on the peninsula: Castile. In 1200, both Álava and Gipuzkoa were incorporated into the expanding power, followed by Biscay in 1370. By the time Navarre was effectively conquered and absorbed in 1512, the Kingdom of Spain had already been forged through an alliance of the Castile-León and Aragon-Catalonia crowns (1469). As Woodworth observes, popular interpretations regarding the historical incorporation of the Basque-Navarrese territories into Castile/Spain tend to range from subjugation to free association in line with one’s political inclinations.23 The Kingdom of Spain quickly became a major imperial power, conquering large swathes of the Americas and beyond. Closer to home, long-standing disputes with the Kingdom of France over influence in Navarre (on both sides of the Pyrenees) were finally resolved in 1659 in the shape of an international border which thereafter definitively split the old kingdom and, by extension, Euskal Herria, into Spanish and French orbits. Under the Spanish and French medieval kingdoms, the Basque territories retained significant political and economic autonomy, substantiated via local and provincial assemblies that decreed by laws known in Euskara as foruak (fueros in Spanish; fors in French). In reciprocation for the retainment of these laws and rights, local Basque authorities paid tribute to their respective Spanish and French monarchs. Throughout the late medieval period,

8 Introduction a burgeoning fishing fleet and merchant class underpinned socio-­economic life along the Basque coast. Adjoined to the expanding Spanish Empire in the Americas, this merchant class would become increasingly Castilianised via the prevalent use of the language for trade and communications in the so-called New World.24 Akin to other European territories, the French Revolution of 1789 and the ‘Age of Modernity’ that it heralded profoundly impacted the Basque Country.25 In the French Basque Country, a hitherto “highly participatory Basque political culture” was gradually undermined by the emerging nineteenth-­ century French nation-state. At the same time, the liberal trajectory towards a modern Spanish nation-state equivalent, as embodied in the 1812 Constitution of Cádiz, similarly posed an existential threat to the heretofore bespoke political and economic arrangements of the Basque provinces within the Kingdom of Spain.26 When ‘liberal’ and ‘traditionalist’ cleavages of nineteenth-century Spain collided during the Carlist Wars of 1833–40, 1846–49 and 1872–76, some of the most intense, bitter warfare occurred in the Basque provinces and Navarre. There were also major political repercussions for the region. Following three successive liberal victories, Basque-Navarrese foruak were steadily undermined, rescinded and all but abolished in 1876. While most Basques and Navarrese had supported the traditionalist cause of ‘Don Carlos’ (de Borbón), the industrial, merchant and professional classes, particularly in Biscay, had tended to side with the liberals. A concierto económico (economic accord) permitting the Basque provinces and Navarre to retain significant powers in the collection and spending of local taxes subsequently helped the victorious liberals to maintain the support of these latter sectors.27 Coupled with the presence of Spanish military on Basque soil and the introduction of a national education system, the consequences of the Carlist Wars undoubtedly represented a sea change in the Basque-Spanish political framework. Not only did the erosion of the foruak objectively redefine the administrative and legal status quo of the Basque realms, but it also arguably undermined long-standing implicit—if not necessarily e­ xplicit— conceptions of Basque provincial sovereignty. As Joseba Agirreazkuenaga notes, the troublesome issue of reconciling the historical rights of the Basque provinces to Spanish liberalism would become known as the ‘Basque Question’.28 With heavy industry and commerce gathering apace across Europe during the latter half of the nineteenth century, many Spanish migrants were attracted to the iron ore-rich province of Biscay and its industrialising and urbanising environs for work. As Bilbao became a central hub of banking and industry, a volatile melting pot of liberal, conservative and socialist organisations, parties and factions sought political, economic and social hegemony in the city. It was in this context that a young Bilbao native by the name of Sabino Arana founded the first branch of the Partido Nacionalista Vasco (PNV, Basque Nationalist Party) in 1895.29

Introduction  9 More akin to a social movement than a political party, the PNV articulated its early political programme around what Arana perceived as increasing threats to the indigenous Basque race, language, Catholic sense of morality, and loss of traditional Basque political expression, as embodied in the foruak.30 Arana’s ideas quickly gained traction. In a little over two decades, the PNV’s jeltzales (from the party’s motto, ‘JEL’: Jaungoikoa eta Lagi-zaŕa/ God and the Old Laws) became a significant political force in the Basque Country, achieving electoral majorities in the party’s Biscayan heartlands and mounting its first major challenge to Madrid over the issue of Basque political autonomy.31 In accounting for the emergence and rapid success of Arana’s party in the Spanish Basque Country, historians have pointed to a multitude of factors: from the strengths and weaknesses of the nineteenth-century Spanish nationstate building project to the collapse of the Spanish Empire; from the political inadequacies of the Spanish Restoration Period (1874–1931) to significant surges of inward migration to the Basque Country.32 Conversely, the success of the nineteenth-century French nation-state building project—that which sought to turn “peasants into Frenchmen”, as Eugen Weber famously termed it—meant that, as Basque nationalism developed south of the Pyrenees during the first two decades of the twentieth century, it made comparatively little headway in the French Basque Country.33 The Irish Case Ireland, or Éire in Gaeilge (Gaelic), is an island in the North Atlantic Ocean, located northwest of the European continental landmass and west of Britain. Uninhabited until about 10,500 bc (emerging research suggests this could be as early as 31,000 bc), archaeological and genetic-led studies point to various waves of settlers arriving from central Europe, Britain and Iberia between 6000 bc to 2000 bc.34 Across the bronze and early iron ages, Celtic traders and settlers assimilated into the maelstrom of what would become a distinctive ‘Gaelic’ culture, basis of law and written language by the fifth century ad.35 Christianised from the fifth and sixth centuries onwards, the social and political structures of Gaelic Ireland were grounded in a hierarchical system of stakeholders and decision-makers, from bó-aire (chieftain of a single cow) to local and regional kings, the latter of whom sought hegemony for the title of Árd-Rí na hÉireann (High King of Ireland). Late eighth-century Viking raids and the development of permanent settlements were followed by the first incursions of Anglo-Norman lords and their armies from Britain in 1169. Within a decade of the Anglo-Norman campaigns, large swathes of the island fell under Henry II’s ‘Angevin Empire’ (a post hoc term that refers to the British, Irish and continental European lands held by the Angevin kings of England). Henry II bestowed a ‘Lordship of Ireland’ upon his son John in 1177.36

10 Introduction Notwithstanding the military success of the early Anglo-Norman campaigns in Ireland, the geographical scope and political strength of the lordship were subject to constant fluctuation for centuries as Gaelic chieftains, the increasingly Gaelicised Anglo-Norman lords and the English Crown all vied for power and influence. By the beginning of the sixteenth century, direct crown control, English law and the English language only held significant sway in the southern province of Munster and in a large fortified area around Dublin and its surrounding environs known as The Pale.37 Under the first Protestant King of England, Henry VIII (1491–1547), initiatives such as the ‘surrender and regrant’ of Gaelic-held lands, the legal establishment of the Anglican Church of Ireland and the replacement of the lordship with the Kingdom of Ireland, all signalled a step change in English interest in Irish affairs. Following Henry’s reign, a new approach to Anglicising Ireland religiously and politically was developed by a succession of Tudor monarchical administrations (Edward VI, Mary I, Elizabeth I).38 In its broadest terms, the Tudor policy of ‘planting’ Ireland involved “the colonisation of Irish land by settlers planted […] from England and Scotland”. In return, colonisers were expected to remain loyal to the crown, and through their Protestant faith, provide a model of civility for the “barbarous” Irish to emulate.39 While the sixteenth-century Tudor plantations were only mildly successful in achieving their objectives, the public and commercial plantations of Ulster, carried out in the early seventeenth century under the reign of the first Stuart monarch, James VI and I, were far more comprehensive, and consequential. As Ulster was colonised throughout the seventeenth century, the province was beset with sharp religious, political and cultural divisions. These divisions were compounded, island-wide, by a triad of overlapping conflicts spanning from 1641 to 1653 (Ulster Rebellion; Irish Confederate Wars; Cromwellian Conquest), and later, the Williamite Wars of 1688 to 1691. Confiscations of Gaelic/Catholic properties led to landownership for this group eventually bottoming out at 5% in 1778. In the religious sphere, penal laws prohibiting or placing restrictions on Catholic worship and access to public office, coupled with the flight of the deposed Catholic King James II’s Irish followers (Jacobites) to the European continent under the terms of the Treaty of Limerick (1691), meant that an Anglo-Scots ‘Protestant Ascendancy’ was firmly established in Ireland by the turn of the eighteenth century. This minority would effectively hold political, religious, military and economic power across the island.40 Founded in Belfast in 1791, The Society of the United Irishmen sought to overcome the island’s sectarian divisions by establishing a representative Irish parliament. Heavily influenced by the republican ideals of the American War of Independence and the French Revolution, Theobald Wolfe Tone (a rare Dublin-born Anglican among the predominantly Ulster Presbyterian leadership of the society) led a failed rebellion in 1798 in pursuance of an Irish Republic.41 Britain’s response was to pull her neighbour closer to London, with the 1800 Act of Union (legally operative from 1801) fusing the British and Irish kingdoms and parliaments into single entities.

Introduction  11 For most of the nineteenth century, the Irish body politic operated in a sort of “quasi-colonial” state,42 with organised constitutional expressions of Irish nationalism coalescing around attempts to, firstly, repeal the 1800 Act, and when this failed, push for an Irish ‘Home Rule’ parliament. Demands for political autonomy also dovetailed with campaigns to overturn the legal discrimination of Catholics (movement for Catholic Emancipation) and for land reform (The Land War). Meanwhile, as a result of the Great Famine, or An Gorta Mór (The Great Hunger), circa 1845 to 1852, approximately one million Irish people died from starvation and disease, with another million emigrating from an estimated population of 8.5 million in 1845. An Gorta Mór also disproportionally impacted the Irishspeaking, rural underclass.43 Following in Tone’s footsteps, Irish republicans continued to look towards European revolutionaries and the United States of America (US/USA) for both inspiration and material support throughout the nineteenth century. For example, in 1848, Young Ireland, a movement of similar ilk to its various namesakes on the continent, led a short-lived uprising in July. A veteran of the revolt, John O’Mahony, would go on to form an American-based republican movement named Fenian Brotherhood—eventually superseded by Clan na Gael (Family of Gaels)—from the swathes of newly arrived Irish émigrés. Likewise, another 1848 veteran, James Stephens, founded a secret oath-bound sister organisation in Ireland and Britain known as the Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB). The American-based ‘Fenians’ would support the IRB through propaganda, funding and military assistance over the following decades. All the while, moderate constitutionalist nationalists continued to advocate for and pursue their objective of Home Rule via the Irish Parliamentary Party (IPP) in Westminster.44 Jarring with this image of gathering Irish republican/nationalist momentum, the majority of adherents to the Anglican Church of Ireland, strongest numerically in the northeast of Ulster and buttressed by the British State’s nineteenth-century accommodation of Presbyterian grievances, continued to see their long-term political, economic and social interests intimately bound up in Westminster and the continuing expansion of the British Empire.45 Given this reality, Irish nationalist demands for a Home Rule parliament fin de siècle were met by an equally resistant and Ulster-centric ‘unionism’. When a majority of UK Members of Parliament (MP) passed the Third Home Rule Bill in the House of Commons in 1912 (to come into legal effect after an expected two-year delay in the House of Lords), a militia of ‘Ulster Volunteers’, allied with leading members of the British Conservative Party, resolutely faced down this prospect with the threat of armed resistance. Less than a year after the Ulster Volunteers were formed in opposition to Irish Home Rule, an equally determined counterweight force named the ‘Irish Volunteers’ was established in Dublin. As fate would have it, legislation for Irish Home Rule was shelved in 1914 at the outbreak of World War I, meaning an Irish (and potentially UK-wide) civil war was narrowly avoided.46

12 Introduction The IPP’s campaign for Irish Home Rule never recovered momentum. Instead, its political premise was fatally undermined by the impact of the 1916 Rising and the spectre of Irish conscription to the British Army, among other factors. Within the rapidly changing political context, a surge of popular support for Sinn Féin and its programme for withdrawing Irish political representation from Westminster resulted in a resounding electoral victory for the party in December 1918. A revolutionary government of the ‘Irish Republic’ was established the following month in Dublin, leading to the Irish War of Independence (1919–21).47 Fought between the revolutionary government of the Irish Republic and the British State, the War of Independence provided the backdrop to the partitioning of Ireland by the UK Parliament in 1920 (Government of Ireland Act). A six-county, two-thirds Protestant-majority entity in the northeast of the island, to be called Northern Ireland, and a 26-county, overwhelmingly Catholic, semi-independent ‘Dominion’ named Saorstát Éireann (Irish Free State) were controversially agreed upon by representatives of the British Government and the Irish Republic in London, December 1921 (Anglo-Irish Treaty). Following the Irish Civil War (1922–23), fought precisely over the terms of the treaty, Saorstát Éireann (later succeeded by Éire/Ireland) was eventually accepted by every major political party of the ‘southern’ state, notwithstanding the long-term aspiration for 32-county Irish unity. Conversely, for most unionist interpretations of the Irish Revolutionary Period (1916–23), Irish republicans had violently seceded from and destroyed both the unity of Ireland and the unity of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. As such, in order to preserve their interests in the face of a numerically superior and ostensibly hostile Catholic majority, Ulster unionist leaders reasoned that there was little option but for the newly established Parliament of Northern Ireland (1921) to opt out of Saorstát Éireann and remain within a nowtruncated United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (UK).48 Notes 1 “Intervención de Arnaldo Otegi en el Ard Fheis del Sinn Féin, su convención anual,” www.arnaldotegi.eus/?p=2359&lang=es, accessed 28 January 2021. Otegi’s speech, the written version provided at arnaldotegi.eus, and Maskey’s spoken translation, all vary slightly. 2 “‘Up The Rebels!’ Basque leader Otegi’s historic address in Dublin,” www.­ anphoblacht.com/contents/25946, accessed 13 September 2022. 3 Niall Cullen, “Gora Rebeldiak! A History of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations” (PhD diss., University of the Basque Country, 2020); Niall Cullen, “‘Oh Ireland! What a Disappointment You Have Been to the Basque People’: Irish Non-Intervention in the Spanish Civil War,” Society 58, no.2 (May 2021): 104–11; Niall Cullen and Kyle McCreanor, “‘Dangerous Friends’: Irish Republican Relations with Basque and Catalan Nationalists, 1916–26,” The International History Review 44, no. 6 (2022): 1193–210; José María Lorenzo Espinosa, “Influencia del nacionalismo irlandés en el nacionalismo vasco,

Introduction  13 1916–1936,” in XI Congreso de Estudios Vascos. Nuevas formulaciones culturales: Euskal Herria y Europa, ed. Jacques Maurais et al. (Donostia: Eusko Ikaskuntza, 1992), 239–47; Kyle McCreanor, “Ireland and the Basque Country: Nationalisms in Contact, 1895–1939” (MA thesis, Concordia University, 2019); Kyle McCreanor, “Ireland, the Basques and the Spanish Civil War,” Irish Historical Studies 46, no. 169 (2022): 136–54; Xosé M. Núñez Seixas, “Ecos de Pascua, Mitos Rebeldes: El Nacionalismo Vasco e Irlanda (1890–1939),” Historia Contemporánea, no. 55 (October 2017): 447–82; Pere Soler Parício, “Irlanda y el País Vasco durante la Guerra Civil española,” Sancho el Sabio, no. 45 (2022): 99–132; Cameron Watson, Basque Nationalism and Political Violence: The Ideological and Intellectual Roots of ETA (Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada, 2007), 118–23. 4 To my knowledge, only three academic texts that investigate aspects of post-1939 radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations from primary sources have been published. See: Agnès Maillot, “Comrades in Arms: Sinn Féin and Basque Separatism,” Nordic Irish Studies 4 (2005): 1–12; Xosé M. Núñez Seixas, “Irlanda,” in Diccionario Ilustrado de Símbolos del Nacionalismo Vasco, eds. Santiago de Pablo, José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Ludger Mees, and Jesús Casquete (Madrid: Tecnos, 2012), 547–62; Pascal Pragnère, “Exporter la guerre – importer la paix: Dimensions transnationales de deux conflits nationalistes. Irlande du Nord, Pays Basque,” in La France et l´Irlande: destins croisés 16e-21e siécles, ed. Catherine Maignant (Lille: CECILLE – Université Lille, 2012), 195–210. For a sample of the comparative literature published on aspects of the two cases, see: Rogelio Alonso, “Confronting Terrorism in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country: Challenges for Democracy and Legitimacy,” in The Consequences of Counterterrorism, ed. Martha Crenshaw (New York: Russel Sage Foundation, 2010), 213–54; Rogelio Alonso, “Pathways Out of Terrorism in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country: The Misrepresentation of the Irish Model,” Terrorism and Political Violence 16, no. 4 (2004): 695–713; Amaia Álvarez, “Transitional justice in settled democracies: Northern Ireland and the Basque Country in comparative perspective” (PhD diss., University of the Basque Country, 2017); Javier Argomaniz, “Comparing the experiences of victims of ETA and paramilitaries in Northern Ireland,” in ETA’s Terrorist Campaign: From Violence to Politics, 1968–2015, eds. Rafael Leonisio, Fernando Molina, and Diego Muro (London and New York: Routledge, 2016), 125–42; Juan Avilés Farré, “¿Cómo terminó la tercera ola terrorista en Europa?,” in Héroes de la retirada: La disolución de ETA político-militar, coord. Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla and Sara Hidalgo García de Orellán (Madrid: Tecnos, 2022), 53–71; John Bew, Martyn Frampton, and Iñigo Gurruchaga, Talking to Terrorists: Making Peace in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country (London: Hurst & Company, 2009); Angela Bourne, Democratic Dilemmas: Why democracies ban political parties (London and New York: Routledge, 2018); Gorka Espiau Idoiga, “The Peace Processes in the Basque Country and Northern Ireland (1994–2006): A Comparative Approach,” International Catalan Institute for Peace, Working Paper, no. 3 (May 2010); M.K. Flynn, Ideology, Mobilisation and the Nation: The Rise of Irish, Basque and Carlist Nationalist Movements in the Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries (Oxford: Macmillan Press, 2000); Philippe Duhart, “Between Ballots and Bullets: Armed Struggle and Peacemaking in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country” (PhD Diss., University of California, 2017); Cynthia L. Irvin, Militant Nationalism: Between Movement and Party in Ireland and the Basque Country (Minneapolis: Minnesota University Press, 1999); Michael Keating, “Northern Ireland and the Basque Country,” in Northern Ireland and the Divided World: Post-Agreement Northern Ireland in Comparative Perspective, ed. John McGarry (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 181–208; Stephanie Kerr, “Violence,

14 Introduction de-escalation and Nationalism: Northern Ireland and the Basque Country compared” (PhD diss., University of Ottawa, 2016); Raúl López Romo and Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla, “Deuda de sangre: La visión del pasado de ETA y el IRA,” APORTES. Revista de Historia Contemporánea 33, no. 97 (2018): 267–94; Pascal Pragnère, “National identities in conflict and peace process. A comparative analysis of Northern Ireland and the Basque Country, 1968–2011” (PhD Diss., University College Dublin, 2013); Ignacio Sánchez-Cuenca, “The Dynamics of Nationalist Terrorism: ETA and the IRA,” Terrorism and Political Violence 19, no. 3 (2007): 289–306; Michael von Tangen Page, Prisons, Peace and Terrorism: Penal Policy in the Reduction of Political Violence in Northern Ireland, Italy and the Spanish Basque Country, 1968–97 (New York: Macmillan Palgrave, 1998); Peter Waldmann, “The Radical Community: A Comparative Analysis of the Social Background of ETA, IRA, and Hezbollah,” in Tangled, ed. Victoroff, 133–46. The most cited source in academia regarding the historical relationship between ETA and the IRA (including in several of the texts mentioned above) is a 1974 German newspaper interview with an ETA spokesperson, during which the militant stated that ETA had “good relations” with the IRA. This quote later appeared in Tim Pat Coogan’s highly popular The IRA. For Coogan’s mention of the newspaper source and his additional speculation around this nexus, see: Tim Pat Coogan, The IRA, rev. ed. (London: Harper Collins, 1995), 436. The 1974 quote continues to be regularly cited in mainstream print media. For instance, see: “If Eta can say sorry, why can’t Sinn Féin,” Irish Times, 07.12.2021. 5 For example, see: Rogelio Alonso and Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, “The IRA and ETA: The International Connections of Ethno-Nationalist Terrorism in Europe,” in Terrorism: Patterns of Internationalization, eds. Jaideep Saikia and Ekaterina Stepanova (New Delhi: Sage, 2009), 3–17; Martyn Frampton, “‘Squaring the circle’: the foreign policy of Sinn Féin, 1983–1989,” Irish Political Studies 19, no. 2 (2004): 43–63; Michael McKinley, “Of ‘Alien Influences’: Accounting and Discounting for the International Contacts of the Provisional Irish Republican Army,” Conflict Quarterly 11, no. 3 (1991): 7–35; Eunan O’Halpin, “The Geopolitics of Republican Diplomacy in the twentieth century,” in From political violence to negotiated settlement: The winding path to peace in twentieth-century Ireland, eds. Maurice J. Bric and John Coakley (Dublin: University College Dublin Press, 2004), 81–98. 6 For example, see: Tricia Bacon, “Alliance Hubs: Focal Points in the International Terrorist Landscape,” Perspectives on Terrorism 8, no. 4 (2014): 4–26; Tricia Bacon, “Strange Bedfellows or Brothers-In-Arms: Why Terrorist Groups Ally” (PhD diss., Georgetown University, 2013); Joe Bandy and Jackie Smith, “Cooperation and Conflict in Transnational Protest,” in Coalitions Across Borders: Transnational Protest and the Neoliberal Order, eds. Joe Bandy and Jackie Smith (Oxford: Rowman & Littlefield Promotions, 2005), 1–17; Navin A. Bapat and Kanisha D. Bond, “Alliances Between Militant Groups,” British Journal of Political Science 2, no. 4 (October 2012): 793–824; Kanisha D. Bond, “Power, Identity, Credibility & Cooperation: Examining the Development of Cooperative Arrangements among Violent Non-State Actors” (PhD diss., Pennsylvania State University, 2010); Michael C. Horowitz and Philip B.K. Potter, “Allying to Kill: Terrorist Intergroup Cooperation and the Consequences for Lethality,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 58, no. 2 (2014): 199–215; Assaf Moghadam, Nexus of Global Jihad: Understanding Cooperation Among Terrorist Actors (New York: Columbia University Press, 2017); Jackie Smith, Charles Chatfield, and Ron Pagnucco, eds., Transnational Social Movements and Global Politics: Solidarity Beyond the State (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1997). Historians have often criticised the study of transnational militant networks in the post-9/11 period as lacking in historical context. For example, see: Richard English, Does

Introduction  15 Terrorism Work? A History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016), 18; Robert Gerwarth and Heinz-Gerhart Haupt, “Internationalising Historical Research on Terrorist Movements,” European Review of History 14, no. 3 (2007): 275–81. 7 Daniele Conversi, “Domino Effect or International Developments? The Influences of International Events and Political Ideologies on Catalan and Basque Nationalism,” West European Politics 16, no.3 (1993): 245–70; John McGarry, “The Comparable Northern Ireland,” in Divided, ed. McGarry, 1–33; Xosé M. Núñez Seixas: “Relaciones exteriores del nacionalismo vasco (1895–1960),” in Los Nacionalistas. Historia del nacionalismo vasco, 1876–1960, ed. Santiago de Pablo (Vitoria-Gasteiz: Fundación Sancho El Sabio, 1995), 381–417. 8 Sydney Tarrow, Power and Movement: Social Movements and Contentious Politics, 3rd ed. (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 155. 9 “Ard Fheis Presidential Speech by Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams TD,” www. sinnfein.ie/contents/39626; “The Basque Gerry Adams,” www.politico.eu/article/ arnaldo-otegi-the-basque-gerry-adams/; “Declaration of the International Conference to promote the resolution of the conflict in the Basque Country,” www. eldh.eu/fileadmin/user_upload/ejdm/publications/2012/­InternationalDeclaration BasqueENG.pdf, sites accessed 19 January 2019. 10 AROVITE (Archivo online sobre la Violencia Terrorista en Euskadi) puts the total number of ETA’s mortal victims (including all those attributed to various branches of ETA and associated groups) at 843. “Víctimas mortales de ETA, 1968–2010,” www.arovite.com/es/portfolio-items/victimas-mortales-de-eta-1968–2010/, ­accessed 14 September 2022. 11 For instance, in 2011, the historic IRA and Sinn Féin leader Martin McGuinness remarked: “The IRA forced the British government to the negotiating table… They were a revolutionary force who, when an opportunity to advance the struggle for Irish unity through peaceful means was established, removed themselves from the political equation”. See: English, Terrorism, 111. For Adams’ remarks, see: “Gerry Adams: Basque peace move an essential step,” https://edition.cnn. com/2011/10/21/opinion/adams-basque-peace/index.html, accessed 2 February 2020. 12 Leonisio et al., ETA’s Terrorist Campaign; Ludger Mees, The Basque Contention: Ethnicity, Politics, Violence (London and New York: Routledge, 2019); Imanol Murua, Ending ETA’s Armed Campaign: How and why the Basque armed group abandoned violence (London and New York: Routledge, 2017); Teresa Whitfield, Endgame for ETA: Elusive Peace in the Basque Country (London: Hurst & Company, 2014); Julen Zabalo and Mikel Saratxo, “ETA ceasefire: Armed struggle vs. political practice in Basque nationalism,” Ethnicities 15, no. 3 (2015), 362–84. 3 David Lowenthal, The Past is a Foreign Country (Cambridge: Cambridge Univer1 sity Press, 1985). Cited in: Cameron Watson, Modern Basque History: Eighteenth Century to the Present (Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada, 2003), 9. 14 Edward Hallett Carr, What is History? 2nd ed. (London: Penguin, 1987), 23. 15 Richard English, Armed Struggle: The History of the IRA (London: Pan Books, 2004), 383; Richard English, “History and Irish nationalism,” Irish Historical Studies 37, no. 147 (May 2011): 447–60, quote on 459. 16 Rafael Leonisio, “Basque Patriotic Left: Fifty Years of Political and Terrorist Acronyms,” Revista de Investigaciones Políticas y Sociológicas 14, no. 1 (2015): 83–104. 17 Irvin, Militant, 4. 18 Institute of Political Science, Louvain-Europe, “Peace Processes in Community Conflicts: From Understanding the Roots of Conflicts to Conflict Resolution. Deliverable 2. Second Draft. Community Conflicts in Europe: A Review of the Literature – Mapping Conflict Dimensions,” https://cdn.uclouvain.be/public/

16 Introduction Exports%20reddot/spri/documents/Deliverable_1_PEACE-COM.pdf, accessed 14 September 2022. 19 For “unending dialogue between the past and the present”, see: Carr, History, 30. For this study, the Irish case refers to the central political issues that have dominated the modern history of Ireland and relations between Ireland and Britain: Irish sovereignty; self-determination; partition/unification; nationalism; unionism; Northern Ireland; Britain’s presence and role in Ireland, and so on. The “Troubles” refers to the period of political violence that mainly took place in Northern Ireland c.1968–c.98. The Basque case refers to the macro-political issues of Basque sovereignty; self-determination; possible independence from Spain (and France), as well as other potential politico-administrative relationships (e.g., federalism, more autonomy, less autonomy). The Basque conflict refers to the period of political violence that mainly occurred in the Basque Country c.1968–c.2011. 20 For Clark: “Language must serve as the most overt distinguishing feature of Basque ethnicity”. See: Robert P. Clark, The Basques: The Franco Years and Beyond (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1979), 7. On the changing connotations of Euskal Herria, see: Ludger Mees, “A Nation in Search of a Name: Cultural Realties, Political Projects, and Terminological Struggles in the Basque Country,” in The Challenge of a Bilingual Society in the Basque Country, eds. Pello Salaburu and Xabier Alberdi (Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada, 2012), 11–32. 21 Luigi Luca Cavalli-Sforza, “The Basque population and ancient migrations in Europe,” MUNIBE (Antropología y Arqueología), no. 6 (1988): 129–37. 22 For some Basque nationalists, resistance to cultural assimilation signifies Basque independence and difference from the rest of Spain. Conversely, for some Spanish nationalists, the fact that the Basque language and culture are pre-Indo-European means that not only should the Basques be considered Spanish, but the Basques are, in fact, the ‘original’ Spanish. This Vasco-Iberist school of thought considers Euskara “the last vestiges of a language spoken in most, if not all, parts of the Iberian Peninsula before the Roman conquest”. See: Roger Collins, The Basques (Oxford: Blackwell, 1987), 9. 2 3 Paddy Woodworth, The Basque Country: A Cultural History (Oxford: Signal Books, 2007), 216. 4 Clark, Basques, 22; Watson, Basque Nationalism, 25–38. 2 25 The Age of Modernity refers to the constellation of significant political, economic, social and cultural changes in Europe in the early-to-mid-nineteenth century (e.g., the nation-state, citizenship, industrialisation, urbanisation). Euro-centric historians and social scientists generally consider this period to have succeeded the previous Ancien Régime. As the nationalism theorist Benedict Anderson notes, late eighteenth and early nineteenth-century independence movements in the Americas also advanced elements of modernity: “Out of the American welter came these imagined realities: nation-states, republican institutions, common citizenships, popular sovereignty, national flags and emblems, etc., and the liquidation of their conceptual opposites: dynastic empires, monarchical institutions, absolutisms, subjecthoods, inherited nobilities, serfdoms, ghettoes, and so forth”. For Anderson, the nation-state “model” of the nineteenth century was essentially “a complex composite of French and American elements”. See: Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities, rev. ed. (London: Verso, 2006), 81. 26 For quote, see: James E. Jacob, Hills of Conflict: Basque Nationalism in France (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1994), 37. See also: Watson, Modern, 59. 27 While the immediate context of the First Carlist War was a dispute over succession to the crown of Ferdinand VII, the Carlist Wars cut across many social, economic, political and class interests. In the Basque Country-Navarre, traditionalist Carlist supporters of ‘Don Carlos’, who rejected many aspects of liberalism and

Introduction  17 modernity, tended to favour a return to the absolute monarchy of the Ancien Régime and the protection of Basque and Navarrese regional laws and customs. See: Mees, Contention, 32, 38–46. 2 8 Joseba Agirreazkuenaga, The Making of the Basque Question: Experiencing SelfGovernment, 1793–1877 (Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada, 2011), 12. 2 9 Watson, Basque Nationalism, 48, 66–67. 30 Ludger Mees, “Politics, Economy, or Culture? The Rise and Development of Basque Nationalism in the Light of Social Movement Theory,” Theory and Society 33, no. 3/4 (June–August 2004): 311–31. For the PNV’s early raison d’être, see: Javier Corcuera Atienza, The Origins, Ideology, and Organization of Basque Nationalism, 1876–1903 (Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada, 2006); Santiago de Pablo, La Patria Soñada: Historia del nacionalismo vasco desde su origen hasta la actualidad (Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva, 2015), 24–36; Antonio Elorza, Un pueblo escogido: génesis, definición y desarrollo del nacionalismo vasco (Barcelona: Crítica, 2001), 139–90. For studies on Sabino Arana and his political outlook, see: José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Ángel o demonio: Sabino Arana (Madrid: Tecnos, 2015); William A. Douglass, “Sabino’s Sin: Racism and the Founding of Basque Nationalism,” in Ethnonationalism in the Contemporary World: Walker Connor and the Study of Nationalism, ed. Daniele Conversi (London and New York: Routledge, 2002), 95–112. 1 Mees, Contention, 63–67. 3 3 2 Collins, Basques, 277; Marianne Heiberg, The Making of the Basque Nation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), 6; Jon Juaristi, El Bucle Melancólico: Historias de nacionalistas vascos (Madrid: Espasa Calpe, 1997), 33; Ludger Mees, “Ethnogenesis in the Pyrenees: The Contentious Making of a National Identity in the Basque Country (1643–2017),” European History Quarterly 48, no. 3 (July 2018): 462–89; Mees, Contention, 12–24; Watson, Basque Nationalism, 26. 3 Eugen Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen: The Modernization of Rural France, 3 1870–1914 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1976). The experience of two world wars also did much to copper-fasten a French identity in the three northern Basque provinces during the first half of the twentieth century. See: Watson: Modern, 222–37. 34 Marion Dowd and Ruth F. Carden, “First evidence of a Late Upper Palaeolithic human presence in Ireland,” Quaternary Science Reviews 139 (2016): 158–63; G.F. Mitchell, “Prehistoric Ireland,” in The Course of Irish History, 5th ed. eds. T.W. Moody and F.X. Martin (Cork: Mercier Press, 2011), 27–37; “First humans came here 33,000 years ago, reindeer bones show,” Irish Independent, 18.04.2021. 35 Mitchell, “Prehistoric Ireland.” Usually associated with Ireland and Scotland, the Gaels are a branch of the Indo-European ethnolinguistic group known as the Celts. For an overview, see: Frank Delaney, The Celts (London: Harper Collins, 1993). 36 For a comprehensive study of Gaelic Ireland, see: Dáibhí Ó Cróinín, Early Medieval Ireland, 400–1200 (London: Longman, 1995). 3 7 Colm Lennon, Sixteenth Century Ireland: The Incomplete Conquest, 2nd ed. (New Gill: Dublin, 2005), 10–19. 38 For the Tudor impact in Ireland, see: Steven G. Ellis, Ireland in the Age of the Tudors, 1447–1603: English Expansion and the end of Gaelic Rule (London: Longman, 1998). 3 9 Richard English, Irish Freedom (London: Macmillan, 2007), 58. 4 0 Ian McBride, Eighteenth Century Ireland: The Isle of Slaves (Dublin; Gill & Macmillan, 2009), 194–202. For Catholic landownership figures, see: Thomas

18 Introduction Bartlett, The Fall and Rise of the Irish Nation – The Catholic Question 1690– 1830 (Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 1992), 22. For a short overview of the Penal Laws, see: Jonathan Bardon, A History of Ireland in 250 Episodes (Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 2008), 236–40. 41 Kevin Whelan, “The other within: Ireland, Britain and the Act of Union,” in Acts of Union: The Causes, Contexts, and Consequences of the Act of Union, eds. Dáire Keogh and Kevin Whelan (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2001), 13–33; Eoin Ó Broin, Sinn Féin and the Politics of Left Republicanism (London: Irish Academic Press, 2009), 22–27; Robert W. White, Out of the Ashes: An Oral History of the Provisional Irish Republican Movement (Dublin: Merrion Press, 2017), 14–15. 2 English, Freedom, 131. 4 43 Ibid., 162. Between 3.35 and 4 million native Irish speakers made up the 8.5 million population in 1845. By 1851 as many as 1.5 million had died or emigrated. Figures cited in: Erick Falc’her-Poyroux, “The Great Famine in Ireland: A Linguistic and Cultural Disruption,” in La Grande Famine en Irlande, 1845–1850, ed. Yann Bévant (Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014), 225–42. 4 Brian Hanley, The IRA: A Documentary History 1916–2005 (Dublin: Gill & 4 Macmillan, 2010), 3–4. On Irish republican initiatives in North America leading up to 1916, see: Robert Schmuhl, Ireland’s Exiled Children: America and the Easter Rising (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016). For a more sophisticated treatment of the various strands of Irish nationalism/republicanism between 1850 and 1900, see: English, Freedom, 172–231. 5 Ó Broin, Sinn Féin, 60–61. 4 6 Hanley, IRA, 4–5; Timothy Bowman, Carson’s Army: The Ulster Volunteer 4 Force, 1910–22 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007). 47 For a comprehensive resource that deals with various aspects of the Irish Revolutionary Period, see: John Crowley, Donal Ó Drisceoil, Mike Murphy, and John Borgonovo, eds., Atlas of the Irish Revolution (Cork: Cork University Press, 2017). In the December 1918 election, Sinn Féin won 73 of 105 seats. The IPP won six. Unionists won 26 seats, split between the Irish Unionist Party (22), Labour Unionist (three) and one Independent Unionist candidate. For a comprehensive study of Sinn Féin throughout the Irish Revolutionary Period, see: Michael Laffan, The Resurrection of Ireland: The Sinn Féin Party, 1916–1923 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 48 For an in-depth study of Ulster unionism/Protestantism, see: Susan McKay, Northern Protestants: An Unsettled People, 2nd ed. (Belfast: Blackstaff Press, 2005).

2 ‘The Good News of the Resurgence of the Old Nationalities’ From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)

Ascribed to the Welsh monk Nennius, Historia Brittonum (c.830) provides an epic pseudohistory of the origins of the British people and, more indirectly, the Irish people as well: [T]he Scots [Scotti in Latin sources, meaning Gaels] arrived in Ireland from Spain. The first that came was Partholomus with a thousand men and women; these increased to four thousand; but a mortality coming suddenly upon them, they all perished in one week. The second was Nimech, the son of … [blank in the original manuscript], who, according to report, after having been at sea a year and a half, and having his ships shattered, arrived at a port in Ireland, and continuing there several years, returned at length with his followers to Spain. After these came three sons of a Spanish soldier with thirty ships, each of which contained thirty wives.1 Some two centuries after Historia Brittonum first appeared, another medieval opus, Lebor Gabála Érenn (The Book of the Taking of Ireland), gleaned much of the former’s content in similarly recounting the purported peopling of Ireland—only this time Ireland had been supposedly ‘taken’ on six occasions in total, as opposed to three. It was the sixth and final group of invaders, the Milesians (from ‘Míl Espáine’, an Irish translation of the Latin ‘Miles Hispaniae’, or ‘Soldiers of Spain’), who, according to Lebor Gabála Érenn, would ultimately populate the island.2 From auspicious biblical origins as descendants of Adam, the Milesians, it was said, had migrated westward from Scythia via Egypt, Crete and Sicily before arriving in Iberia and travelling along its northern coastline towards Galicia. From Brigatta (modern-day A Coruña), the Milesians then sailed northwards to Ireland, becoming embroiled in battle with the previous group of invaders, the Tuatha Dé Danann (People of the Goddess Danu). Following Milesian victory, the two adversaries came to an understanding whereby Ireland would be divided into the physical world, to be inhabited by the Milesians, and the realm of the ‘otherworld’, which would be the demesne of the more ethereal Tuatha Dé Danann.3 DOI: 10.4324/9781003368045-2

20  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) As the final pre-historical settlers of Ireland, the story of the Milesians seeped deep into popular Irish consciousness, providing the foundational myth of the Gaels (the Irish branch of Celts) and an overarching narrative of Irish history and the origins of the Irish people for centuries.4 Similarly, in Galicia, Breogán, the mythical grandfather to the first of the Milesian invaders, has been a totem figure in shaping Galician national identity since the early nineteenth century.5 Although the Iberian-centric origin myths of the Irish people articulated in Historia Brittonum, Lebor Gabála Érenn and other medieval texts are, by their very nature, suppositious, their perseverance throughout centuries of Iberian-Irish relations has nonetheless harboured real historical consequences. They also served to ground the popular emergence of a Basque-­specific slant to the Irish origin myth—what I refer to as a historical Basque-Irish ‘association’. Similar to the broader Milesian myth in terms of its social, economic and political consequence, this chapter tracks the trajectory of the historical Basque-Irish ‘association’: from its first political utilisation in the late twelfth century to the consolidation of modern Basque nationalist and Irish republican movements fin de siècle. The ‘Soldiers of Spain’ March On … A year after ascending to the English throne in 1154, the Angevin King Henry II was purportedly given authority to conquer Ireland by way of a letter penned by the English Pope Adrian IV. The apparent stipulation for Adrian’s permission: that Henry bring into line an increasingly autonomous Irish church that had diverged from Rome’s authority. Commonly referred to as the ‘Laudabiliter’, the historicity of Adrian’s letter to Henry, its alleged contents and claims regarding its possible falsification have been debated by historians ever since.6 In addition to Henry II’s lands in Britain, the mid-twelfth-century Angevin Empire also included the Basque territories of modern southwest France that fell under the sovereignty of Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry’s wife. Leveraging the ostensible Basque origins of the Irish people for Henry II’s benefit, the Anglo (Cambro)-Norman lord Giraldus Cambrensis wrote the following in Expugnatio Hibernica (Conquest of Ireland) within a decade of the first Anglo-Norman landings in Ireland: [T]he Pepil of Irlande come fryste out of Bascles and out of Bayon, that longyth now to Gascoyne, Wherof the kynges of Englande ben lordys. And thus ye may wel vndyrstonde that, both by olde right and by new, the kynges owen well to haue the lorchipp of Irland.7 As the reader will appreciate, Giraldus’ thesis reasoned that given the Irish people were essentially an offshoot of the “Bascles” (Basques) and “Bayon” (Bayonne, a French-Basque town), “that longyth now to Gascoyne” (Gascony,

From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)  21 derivative of Wasconia, meaning land of the Vascones, or Basques), the validity of his king’s mandate over both territories should be regarded as both one and the same. This may well be the first attempt to utilise the supposed Basque origins of the Irish people for political purposes. Many more would follow.8 As briefly referenced in Chapter 1, following the establishment of the Lordship of Ireland in 1177, the political, social and cultural structures of Gaelic Ireland would increasingly come under pressure. Likewise, at roughly the same time in northern Iberia, the Basque territories at the heart of the oncepowerful Kingdom of Navarre were gradually subsumed piecemeal into the expanding Kingdom of Castile and, ultimately, its de facto succeeding entity, the Kingdom of Spain. By the late sixteenth century, the strategic interests of two of these protagonists in their respective contexts had converged. Faced with encroaching crown interference in their local affairs, the leaders of the two most prominent Gaelic Irish families in Ulster, Hugh O’Neill and Hugh Roe O’Donnell, sought to arrange an alliance with the stridently Catholic Kingdom of Spain against their mutual Protestant-led enemy: England. In 1595, O’Neill and O’Donnell wrote to Spain’s King Felipe II seeking military support. Leaning on the Milesian myth and O’Donnell’s supposed ancestry from Cantabrian kings, the two men pledged fidelity to the Spanish monarch in return for King Felipe II’s assistance.9 Bestowed the title of King of Ireland during his brief marriage to Queen Mary I of England nearly half a century earlier, Felipe II already had some knowledge of Ireland and, indeed, the Milesian myth. In 1574 he received ingratiatory reports from an Irelandexploring, Basque captain of the Spanish Navy, who stated: “[The Irish] say their kingdom belongs to Your Majesty for it is of Spanish origin, the first founders being part from Galicia, part from Vizcaya [Biscay]. I replied [that] I understood it to be so”.10 Despite responding positively to the O’Donnell-O’Neill proposal, Felipe II was less forthcoming in acting on their request. However, under the stewardship of his successor, Felipe III, a decision was eventually made to despatch Spanish troops to assist the Ulster leaders’ rebellion. Approximately 3,400 Spanish troops landed at the southern port town of Kinsale in September 1601. The subsequent Battle of Kinsale proved disastrous for the ad hoc Gaelic rebel-Spanish alliance. Having launched an over-ambitious attack, they were quickly routed by crown forces. In 1604, England and Spain signed the Treaty of London, theoretically ending any hope of Spanish military intervention in Ireland for the foreseeable future.11 Hugh O’Neill and Hugh Roe’s successor, Rory O’Donnell, left Ireland in 1607 for the European continent with up to 100 followers and family members. Having landed in France, the two Gaelic Irish leaders made their way to the Vatican, where they were subsequently presented “as natives of the Kingdoms of Galicia, Asturias and Cantabria” and provided long-term accommodation by Felipe III of Spain.12 Neither O’Donnell nor O’Neill ever returned to their homeland.

22  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) Throughout the early seventeenth century, thousands of O’Donnell and O’Neill’s countrymen were welcomed into the “overextended and demographically exhausted” military ranks of the Spanish Army. Many would fight for the Spanish Crown in the Netherlands or during the Portuguese and Catalan revolts of the mid-seventeenth century. A large contingent of the Irish Catholic clergy also left their homeland for Spain in the late-sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In Spain, they administered a small network of Irish colleges, often capitalising on the Milesian myth to extract financial assistance from local authorities.13 With land confiscations and penal laws in Ireland heralding another exodus to the continent for many prominent Gaelic/Catholic families and clergy at the turn of the eighteenth century, a sizeable number of these ‘Wild Geese’ émigrés once again followed the migratory route to Spain, including to the Basque Country. Indeed, within a few short years, an Irish community of some significance was established along the banks of the River Nervión in Biscay.14 Basque Milesians Throughout the early sixteenth century, Basque merchants imported hides and leather from southern and western Irish ports in exchange for iron, wine, saffron and other commodities.15 Two centuries later, many of the Irish Wild Geese émigrés to Biscay brought with them the same skills and expertise as their forefathers in the working of leather (tanning). As well as becoming market leaders in the local tanning industry, members of the Irish community in Biscay were quick to utilise the by-now 700-year-old Milesian myth in appealing to local Basque authorities and the Spanish Crown for the betterment of their legal, social and economic rights.16 This pattern was not solely restricted to Biscay. In fact, right across the Kingdom of Spain, pockets of Irish émigrés continued to utilise the Milesian origin myth throughout the eighteenth century. This culminated in the origin myth’s de facto legal recognition in 1792, when an Irish Milesian ‘lobby’, backed by powerful merchant interests in Cádiz, secured a royal edict from Carlos IV to the effect that the Irish established in these dominions shall keep and maintain the privileges which they have, by which they are made equal to native Spaniards, and that the formalities of the oath, to which all other nations have been forced to submit, shall not be exacted from the Irish, seeing that by the mere fact of their settling in Spain the Irish are accounted Spaniards and enjoy the same rights.17 In addition to the purported Iberian origins of the Irish people being effectively codified in law, a parallel awareness of the Milesian hypothesis in Ireland and Britain may also be evidenced across the late eighteenth and

From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)  23 early-nineteenth centuries via the contemporary accounts of Anglophone travellers. These testimonies—a handful of which are referenced below—­ frequently centred on a Basque-specific slant to the origin myth. Why was this so? The answer probably lies in the fact that English writing on Ireland and, by extension, English preconceptions about Ireland, continued to be defined by the work of Giraldus Cambrensis well into the seventeenth century.18 As we have seen, Giraldus was the Anglo (Cambro)-Norman lord and chronicler who first promulgated a Basque-Irish connection in the interests of the Angevin King of England Henry II. In An Introduction to the Natural History and Physical Geography of Spain (1775), Cork-born, one-time resident of Bilbao, William (or Guillermo) Bowles, states: “the customs and traditions of the Biscayans and Irish are so consistent with each other that they give much weight to the opinion that the two nations descend from the same origin”.19 John Talbot Dillon, a member of the eighteenth-century Parliament of Ireland and a frequent traveller across Europe, suggested that “[t]he manners of the Biscayners, and the ancient Irish, are so familiar on many occasions, as to encourage the notion of [the Irish] being descended from [Biscay]”. These shared manners included a fondness for pilgrimages, singing, dancing and a tendency to be easily provoked should a family member be slighted or their origins called into question. Whether from similarities in “customs, religion, [or] traditional notions”, the Irish, according to Talbot Dillon, “have always been attached to the Spaniards”, who in turn “have treated [the Irish] with reciprocal affection, granting them many privileges, and stiling [sic] them even Oriundos [immigrants of native ancestry] in their laws, as a colony descended from Spain”.20 Basque-Irish commonalities in dress and appearance were similarly witnessed by an Irish barrister-in-law Michael J. Quin in his A Visit to Spain (1823). A little over a decade later, American naval officer and author Alexander Slidell-Mackenzie commented on the “striking” Basque resemblance to the “early Irish or Milesians”, who “derive their origins from Spain”, whilst ambling about the Basque town of Vitoria-Gasteiz on market day. Finally, in The Basque Provinces (1837), Edward Bell Stephens observed how the Biscayans “differ so much in one material respect from the Irish, that I can scarcely believe the latter have any fair claim to a common origin […] their remarkable sobriety, notwithstanding the abundance of wine and aguardiente [strong alcoholic drinks] in the country”.21 While it is outside the scope of this study to delve into an extensive analysis of the above (and quite likely, other extant and relevant) texts, these late-eighteenth/early-nineteenth century despatches, pockmarked by a Basque-centric orbit to the Milesian origin myth, demonstrate a continued widespread awareness of the hypothesis, or at least among members of the Anglophone, educated and professional classes. Stemming from the outbreak of the First Carlist War (1833–40), more overtly political Basque-Irish analogies began to accompany references to

24  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) common Basque-Irish customs, dress, origins, and so on. For instance, in criticising the British Government’s intervention (approximately 10,000 men, including four dedicated Irish regiments) in the intra-Spanish conflict, Henry Howard Molyneux, a leading Conservative in the House of Lords, likened the Basque Country’s relationship vis-à-vis Spain to the Scottish and Irish within the UK. Using this analogy, Molyneux accused the liberal ‘Whig’ government of hypocrisy in supporting the enemies of “common law” against its strongest proponents: the Basques. Interestingly, a handful of Basque representatives from the Biscayan Provincial Council were making similar Basque-Irish/Scottish analogies (in the opposite direction) in appealing to Spain’s ‘infant’ Queen, Isabella II, to uphold Basque historical rights. In the view of Joseba Agirreazkuenaga, this signalled a new Basque tactic in arguing for the retention of the foruak by appealing to a “Basque singularity, defined as a nationality”, and by making unflattering comparisons of Spain to other European kingdoms, “in particular to the United Kingdom”.22 These exhibits of Basque-Irish political comparisons and other previously mentioned politically edged utilisations notwithstanding, Basque-Irish discursive associations were still primarily grounded in the folkloric Milesian origin story, as opposed to any transnational connection between Irish and Basque political nationalism. Indeed, the latter of these two phenomena would only be articulated into a coherent ideology and organisational movement in the 1890s. Nonetheless, the introduction of minor Basque-Irish transnational exchanges of information around contemporary claims for political autonomy (from the second third of the nineteenth century onwards) did begin to alter and eventually supplant the mythologically rooted Basque-Irish ‘association’. As we shall see in the following section, the relative congruity of the campaign for Home Rule in Ireland and the fallout from the Third Carlist War in the Basque Country increasingly presented an attractive rationale for political analogy-making and discursive associations. Towards a Basque-Irish Nexus, “If it pleases Heaven, some future day” On 23 June 1813, Arthur Wellesley, the Dublin-born future Duke of Wellington, led a combined British, Spanish and Portuguese force into battle against a French army on the outskirts of Vitoria-Gasteiz. Victory for Wellesley would be a decisive moment in the Peninsula War (or Spanish War of Independence) against Napoleonic France. With Napoléon Bonaparte’s ultimate defeat at Waterloo two years later and Louis XVIII’s restoration to the French throne, a period of revolutionary fervour that had swept across continental Europe since 1789 finally came to an end. Although Revolutionary France was no more, the French nation-state model of mass nationalisation through a centralised education system, national flag, anthem, epic national narrative, monuments, squares, parks and so on,

From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)  25 would be adopted in many European countries, including Spain, throughout the nineteenth century.23 Concurrently, in Ireland, a mass movement that “acquired the power of the people behind it unlike anything put forward in the name of Irish nationalism before” began to emerge around the figure of Daniel O’Connell.24 Having founded the Catholic Association in 1823, O’Connell fought and successfully overturned the legal bar on Catholics sitting in Westminster in 1829 (Catholic Relief Act). ‘The Liberator’ next threw his weight behind the campaign to repeal the Act of Union that had formally wedded the kingdoms and parliaments of Great Britain and Ireland in 1801. Noted as a master propagandist, O’Connell’s main tactic in this struggle was to stage a series of ‘Monster Meetings’ around Ireland from 1843 to 1845, the most famous of which took place on the Hill of Tara (the traditional seat of the Gaelicera High Kings of Ireland). During these mass gatherings, O’Connell would often don a ‘Milesian Cap’, referring to the independent sovereignty that the Milesians’ arrival in Ireland had seemingly initiated.25 If the Irish people constituted a historic sovereign nation with a legitimate claim to some form of self-government, it behoved nineteenth-century Irish nationalists, in an age of grand nationalist narratives, to articulate their nation within the broader sweep of their European contemporaries, including the Basques. In the nineteenth-century Irish nationalist daily The Nation (1842–97), interest in the Basques tended to centre around their mysterious origins and relative political and economic standing within Spain. For instance, in an 1847 article titled “Land Tenures in Europe”, the “fine old Basque provinces” were depicted as self-governing, self-sufficient rural idylls, where despite the “mountainous and barren” soil, “the industry and energy of men working for themselves and their own families has made the very rocks fruitful”. Moreover, “there is nowhere in Europe a nobler and more high-spirited peasantry than the Celts of ancient Biscay. They are near akin to us, these bold Biscayans; and shall be allies, if it pleases Heaven, some future day”.26 Intriguing, albeit inaccurate references to the supposed Celtic origins of the Basques aside, mentions of the Basque people and/or provinces in The Nation across the mid-nineteenth century were, in the main, unexceptional.27 From the mid-1870s onwards, however, a more apparent nationalist stance may be observed in the newspaper’s coverage of the Third Carlist War (1872– 76). Characterised by support for the simplistically homogenised “Basques” and “Navarrese” in their struggle against the “centralist” liberal forces of Madrid, this strand of discourse illustrated Irish nationalist concern for the loss of the Basques’ traditional apparatus of self-government, embodied in the foruak and referred to in the Irish political terminology of Home Rule: The towns and hamlets of Catalonia, Aragon, Valencia, and Murcia may still harbour as many Carlist sympathisers as ever, but the militant power of Don Carlos is once more confined behind the mountain

26  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) vastness of the loyal North. In the North itself the decisive struggle has begun, and it would be idle to deny that the odds are enormously against the heroic peasantry of Biscay and Navarre. We may be sure, indeed, that they will continue to prove themselves worthy of their splendid reputation […] The fueros, those treasured relics of the provincial autonomy and wise decentralisation that were once the common property of medieval Spain, are to be totally abolished. The centralist parliament at Madrid, elected under the manipulation of the Ministry of the hour, and ultimately subject to the dictation of riots and pronunciamentos [military interventions], is to be the sole organ of government […] The Basques and Navarrese fight for Home Rule even more than for Don Carlos.28 Ten years after the Third Carlist War, the first major parliamentary initiative to enact a limited form of Irish Home Rule was introduced in Westminster in 1886 (First Home Rule Bill). With the increasing convergence of Basque and Irish grievances and aspirations around the issue of autonomy (proponents of Irish Home Rule and Basque fueristas), parallels between the two cases became more pronounced.29 For instance, on its inauguration in Bilbao in 1881, the Sociedad Euskalerria (Basque Society) cited Ireland, alongside Austria-Hungary, as an emulative reference for the recuperation of Basque political rights: “We ask for ourselves some of what the Hungarians have achieved and what the Bohemians are obtaining in Austria; much of what the Irish ask for and will one day obtain from Great Britain”.30 Published ten years apart (1881 and 1891), two works by influential Basque political figures, the traditionalist Carlist and Mayor of Bilbao José María de Lizana and the republican industrialist Francisco de Goitia, similarly utilised the ‘Irish Question’ vis-à-vis Britain as a referential foil in calling for the restoration of the Basque foruak.31 Meanwhile, British Prime Minister Robert Gascoyne-­Cecil’s analogisation of Ireland and its place within the British Empire to that of the Basques, Flemings and Bretons (within France), was witheringly rebuked in The Nation as being “on a par with the logic of a schoolboy”.32 A growing Basque-Irish discursive conjugation around political autonomy also ran parallel to politically edged Basque and Irish linguistic and cultural revival movements in both territories. In Spain, Sociedad Euskalerria and the Navarre-based La Asociación Euskara de Navarra (Basque Association of Navarre) sought to promote and harness Basque linguistic and cultural unity in the struggle to restore the foruak;33 as did the Dublin-born French-Basque scholar Antoine d’Abbadie (1810–97), who has been credited in some quarters as popularising the call to Basque provincial unity: ‘Zazpiak Bat’ (The Seven, One).34 Finally, drawing heavily on Basque folkloric tradition and medieval tales—including that of Jaun Zuria, the First ‘Lord of Biscay’ and, according to one version of the story, of Irish origin—Sabino Arana synergised and published what would become the core tenets of Basque nationalism in 1892.35

From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)  27 Concurrently, in Ireland, a vibrant late-nineteenth century ‘Gaelic Revival’ that similarly sought to conserve, nourish and revive Irish culture in its linguistic, literary and sporting spheres had begun to coalesce around a political outlook surmised in a simple two-word slogan: ‘Sinn Féin’ (We Ourselves).36 First appearing as a newspaper in 1902 and morphing into a political party under Arthur Griffith in 1905, Sinn Féin sought to challenge the Home Ruleoriented Irish Parliamentary Party for the hearts and minds of nationalist Ireland. Initially grounded in the millennium-old mythologies of Ireland’s purported peopling from Iberia, the late-nineteenth-century Basque-Irish dynamic now contained the seeds of a transnational nexus around core grievances and aspirations for political autonomy that could be blown either way across the Bay of Biscay and Celtic Sea. How this new Basque-Irish nexus manifested itself within the context of parallel modern nationalist movements from 1895 onwards is the focus of the following two sections. A Basque-Irish Nationalist Nexus, 1895–1915 (North to South) The founding of the PNV in 1895 was, in many ways, the culmination of a political vision first gesticulated to Sabino Arana by his brother Luis 13 years previously: namely that Biscay (and latterly the Basque provinces) constituted an independent sovereign entity entirely separate from Spain. Although Sabino and Luis Arana were to later invent the Basque flag (ikurriña), territorial name (Euzkadi; modern spelling, Euskadi) and national anthem (“Eusko Abendaren Ereserkia”), it would be inaccurate to suggest that the Arana brothers ‘invented’ Basque nationalism per se. As Mees contends, the founding of the PNV was not only a response to contemporary factors on the ground in the Basque Country (e.g., mass immigration, industrialisation, Castilianisation, fuerismo), it was also the product of a long, drawn-out gestation of Basque ethno-particularism. In short, Basque nationalism could not, and would not, have gained substantial traction in the Spanish Basque Country had it been fabricated ex nihilo.37 Composed in the main by traditional Basque lower-middle and urban classes, as well as conservative fueristas on the fringes of the party, the PNV’s early raison d’etre was largely premised on Sabino Arana’s politico-religious vision of an independent confederation of Basque territories (Euzkadi). Only in this way could the Basque race save itself from an oppressive and morally corrupt Spain.38 Arana’s vision for Euzkadi and his resulting legacy would be somewhat complicated, however, when, incarcerated in prison, he underwent an evolución españolista (pejoratively, ‘Spanish/Hispanic evolution’) in his political thinking. This evolution saw Arana moderate his objective and accept a hypothetical autonomous arrangement for Euzkadi within the Spanish State. Arana’s pivot, shortly before his death in 1903, has been cited as emblematic of several ambiguous positions taken up by the PNV on substantive issues ever since.39

28  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) Throughout the PNV’s first two decades (1895–1915), Irish nationalism and the Irish Question were frequently referenced in the party’s international lexicon.40 Apart from the main gravitational pull of congruous grievances and aspirations regarding political autonomy in each territory (as posited in the previous section), other more self-evident factors facilitated the easy drawing of parallels and comparisons between both cases. For instance, both Ireland and the Basque Country were relatively small Western European territories of a solidly Catholic vocation. They also constituted minor realms of greater political unions (Kingdom of Spain; Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland) and transcontinental empires (Spanish Empire; British Empire). Lastly, for many Basque and Irish nationalists, the exponential weakening of Euskara and Gaeilge in their respective territories called into doubt the very survival of their peoples/nations. Between 1895 and 1915, Irish-centric discourse around the above themes appeared across a range of periodicals either officially published by or associated with the PNV and its broader social movement milieu (e.g., Euskalduna, Euzkadi, La Patria, Aberri, Bizkaitarra). As Núñez Seixas notes, the function of the PNV’s international discourse (and by extension its approach to Irish nationalism) was to essentially flag and gesticulate pertinent issues towards specific PNV policy objectives.41 Within this schema, Basque disunity was often contrasted starkly with the IPP’s seemingly united advance towards Irish Home Rule: The history of Ireland has many points of similarity with the history of the Basque Country. In other times both lived happily under the protection of their own laws, and both lost them as a result of an absorbent and assimilationist form of politics. Since then, their misfortunes have been increasing […] To this end [Charles Stewart] Parnell moves, is agitated, addresses his words to the [Irish] people, presents them the incontestable advantages of unity and succeeds in forming a new Irish nationalist party that includes the clergy and the proletariat, the middle classes and the wealthy, and with such influential forces he manages to bring to the British Parliament around eighty deputies who, always up for the fight, fighting without falling to the [British] Government, and without ever humiliating themselves or giving into flattery, are able to convince the head of the Liberal Party, [William] Gladstone, of the reason of their demands. Believing in maintaining this same attitude of frank opposition and unity of aspirations, may Ireland soon obtain a large part of its political programme […] All of these beautiful fruits have come about through the unity of the people! In the Basque Country, the opposite occurs; there is disunity in everything, no fixed ideas; its deputies, who are complacent with the heads of the Spanish parties, become agents of official business and do not consider the aspirations of their country. They only seek at all costs, even with concessions that they should never make, ministerial friendship to better serve their

From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)  29 henchmen, and frequently, their own private interests. With this type of politics—slight, scouring and barely independent—the Basque Country is forced to succumb, because people have not come to understand the disastrous fruit it produces […] In the midst of our misfortune, of which we can see no end, we cannot but exclaim in imitation of Ireland, God protect the Basque Country!42 (Euskalduna, 04.07.1897) The advancement of the Irish Home Rule campaign fin de siècle was, in reality, the latest phase of an Irish Question that had dominated Irish and British domestic politics for decades. Consequently, for Basque nationalists, engagement with the Irish Question—enmeshed within the context of Britain and her Empire—also provided ample opportunity for the PNV to hold a mirror to Spain and its comparative attitude towards the Basque Country. In this respect, Spain was often characterised as unreasonable and inflexible (in contrast to Britain): For many, many years Ireland has fought valiantly against England to obtain Home Rule; that is to say, her personality in the political order. Its deputies in the British Parliament have, on many occasions, made noisy demonstrations against England, most notably during the Transvaal War. Well, despite this, England has not changed its procedures on account of these reasons, directing them in a repressive way against the Irish, their traditional enemies; on the contrary, [England] has respected [Ireland’s] electoral convention. It has moderated the agrarian law with the acquisition by the State of lands to grant them to settlers, and little by little, it is approaching the granting of Home Rule, which brings the promise of the concession of new freedoms. In Spain, on the other hand, things happen in a diametrically opposite way. The First Carlist War ended on 30 August 1839, and on 25 October of the same year, a law was enacted against the Basque jurisdictions; and on 21 July 1876, after the end of the Second [or *‘Third’] Carlist War, another law was enacted which eradicated what had been tolerated since the previous date. [*Note: Given that the Second Carlist War, 1846 to 1849, was relatively minor, some historians refer to only two Carlist Wars, with the ‘second’ occurring between 1872 and 1876]. Many years have passed since then and the Basque people have shown that they love, desire and are worthy of going back to what they were, because with that they believe that nobody is harmed; and governments, far from attending to these just desires, are filled with misgivings and suspicions. They try to silence with the rigour of law and by closing the door to hope. The opposite criteria of the English [UK] and Spanish States regarding very similar facts has no other explanation other than England mediates and acts in consonance with the aspirations of those she governs; and in Spain, engulfed in the petty politics of always, nothing is mediated,

30  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) and everything is always acted upon by the impression of the moment, believing to see dangers everywhere that, in reality, do not exist. That is why England is great. What is not explained is how in Spain life is spent extolling English freedoms and procedures, yet nobody does anything to imitate them.43 (Euskalduna, 10.03.1906) While the triangulated Basque nationalist position of moral support for moderate Irish nationalism on one hand and admiration for Britain and her Empire on the other, may, at first, seem contradictory, this would only appear to be the case if we erroneously read history backwards. In fact, Basque nationalist Hibernophilia and Anglophilia were largely congruent for the following reasons: First, it was not uncommon for nineteenth-century European substate nationalists—Basque nationalists included—to hold a certain ‘blind spot’ regarding British imperialism, such was her military might and prestige.44 In this sense, PNV admiration for Britain was primarily conditioned by a heavy dose of international realpolitik—most famously reflected in a Sabino Arana-hatched plan for an independent Basque Country under British protection.45 Second, a close affinity and history of Basque-English relations and contacts had stretched back centuries. For example, a commercial treaty negotiated between Gipuzkoa and England in 1482 opened the latter’s ports to Gipuzkoan commerce. In more recent times, British capital, coal and expertise had helped to drive Basque industrial development, with vast quantities of iron shipped in the opposite direction.46 Third, the realistic frontier for mainstream Irish (constitutionalist) nationalist ambition throughout the nineteenth century and early-twentieth century was for a limited form of Irish Home Rule comfortably within the confines of both the UK and British Empire. Even Sinn Féin, a minor political force until 1917, officially espoused a monarchical solution to the Irish Question until November of that same year.47 And finally, with Britain ‘ruling the waves’ at the apex of Pax Britannia and her old imperial rival Spain losing her last remaining non-­African territories in 1898, PNV Anglophilia hinged on a dichotomous Anglo-­Spanish view: that of the “soft yoke” of Great Britain (as once described by Sabino Arana), ostensibly accommodative to Irish nationalist aspirations; and a weak, cruel and vindictive Spain.48 The preceding extract from Euskalduna illustrates this discursive approach succinctly: “That is why England is great”—and Spain, not. In addition to the PNV’s dual Hibernophilia-Anglophilia, the Irish language also provoked the occasional interest of Basque nationalists. In a 1914 compendium of articles written by the party’s Luis de Eleizalde (Axe) for Euzkadi, the jeltazle stalwart characterised the Irish language’s fight for survival as “the best defence against the agnosticism and paganism of recent times”.49 As such, Gaeilge was viewed, or at least in the case of Axe, as a bulwark against the ills of modern society—an analogy that could be easily applied to

From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)  31 Euskara in the Basque context. This example also signposts a strand of thinking within Basque nationalism, and, as I discuss in Chapter 4, within ETA’s ethno-linguistic sphere, that effectively equated the existence of the nation and its essential nationhood or ‘essence’ as being determined by the strength and territorial scope of the indigenous language. A fundamental divergence between an orthodox ‘Aranist’ sector of the PNV and the party’s more moderate, ascendant wing became increasingly visible from 1906 onwards.50 Despite this internal schism, however, there was no discernible deviation of opinion on Irish matters. For the PNV, the overall Irish lesson remained the same: to engage with, learn from, extrapolate political capital (mainly by comparing Spain unfavourably to Britain) and, if possible, emulate the same gradualist and possibilist path set out by Irish political leaders such as O’Connell, Parnell and John Redmond. By contrast, the more radical methods of Irish republicans (or ‘Fenians’) on both sides of the Atlantic (i.e., IRB and Clan na Gael) were usually disparaged: Ireland fights bravely against the British State, and as long as it puts into play the revolutionary principles of terrible Fenianism, it achieves nothing; it gets stuck and cannot take a single step. But it has in its bosom talented men of insight, who place her on the evolutionary path, in accordance with the circumstances, with O’Connell it achieves religious liberty; with Parnell it organises itself and glimpses agrarian freedom, and with Redmond it achieves this freedom, coming to foresee in a not-too-distant future the achievement of Home Rule, or what is the same, its political freedom.51 (Euskalduna, 27.12.1903) The problem for the PNV’s jeltazles was that in parallelising much of their project to that of the IPP,52 and in synonymously equating the horizon of Irish “political freedom” to a limited form of Home Rule within the UK, they were also inadvertently making themselves hostages to fortune. This became evident when the political tide in Ireland turned dramatically in 1916, leaving the IPP and the Home Rule project effectively irrelevant and, by extension, much of the PNV’s Irish analysis and approach. A Basque-Irish Nationalist Nexus, 1895–1915 (South to North) In contrast to the steady stream of Irish-related material appearing in Basque nationalist publications from 1895 to 1915, the same cannot be said of any equivalent degree of Irish nationalist discourse in the opposite direction. This lack of engagement can be primarily attributed to the fact that Irish nationalists and republicans had already identified and associated themselves with alternative, successful international references that aligned closely with their respective political projects (e.g., French and American republicanism;

32  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) Canadian Dominion status; Austro-Hungarian dual monarchy).53 By contrast, the nascent Basque nationalist movement, only organised around the PNV in 1895 and still lacking an international presence in the Anglophone world, simply did not appear on the radar of Irish nationalists or republicans as an emulative or even comparative reference. One notable exception to this general synopsis was a piece published in Arthur Griffith’s Sinn Féin (1906–14) in 1907, in which “The Separatist party of the Basques” was, as far as I can tell, introduced to Griffith’s readership for the first time: Of all the extinct nationalities of the Iberian Peninsula the most incompatible with the unification of Spain are the Basques. The Separatist party of the Basques, calling itself ‘The National Basque Party’ [sic] has published, since its recent meetings in Bilbao, a curious programme intended to regenerate the Basque race and language, contaminated, the manifesto asserts, by French and Spanish influence […] This project of a national resurrection has much more importance than many people think, seeing that the Basque delegations and provincial deputations (to the Cortes) are negotiating with the Spanish Government the restoration of the economic accord whereby they will enjoy economic autonomy.54 The Basque language of Euskara, usually cited alongside Gaeilge as the two “most ancient” languages of Europe, would also appear in the Irish national press from time to time. By way of example, the following story of a Basque Capuchin priest (relayed in a report on an Irish language rally in Cork in 1913) illustrates how the parallel struggles to save the two languages could occasionally bleed into one another: [T]he Basques had to fight the same battle for their language and their distinct nationality as the people of Ireland. [The Irish] would all remember the days of the old tally stick and how it was used on the pupils who spoke Irish in school. In the Basque schools there was a corresponding implement called the ring, which was thrown over the neck of any Basque child who dared to speak anything but the Castilian language in school. Well, the days of the ‘tally’ had gone in Ireland, but it was interesting to find another people in Europe that had to fight in a similar way for their language and distinct nationality. They preserved their language, notwithstanding the ring of the Castilian teachers (applause).55 An Asymmetric Nexus

Driven by the PNV’s discursive engagement with the Irish Question and the gradualist approach taken by moderate Irish nationalists towards the prospect of Irish Home Rule, the nationalist-oriented nexus that emerged

From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)  33 between the Basque Country and Ireland circa 1895 to 1915 was almost entirely asymmetric. Materially, there is little evidence that the nexus extended beyond a discursive (‘talking about’) dynamic, save for mutual Basque and Irish membership of a Sociedad Internacional de la Juventud Nacionalista (International Society of Nationalist Youth), founded in London in May 1903. Composed of Basque, Irish, Polish, Finnish and Philippine representatives, delegates made commitments to mutual exchanges of nationalist newspapers and to report incidents “when the governments commit abuses against our compatriots”.56 One other potential space for Basque-Irish nationalist cross-pollination was in the Basque and Irish diasporic hubs of the Americas. From the limited research conducted in this area (in Argentina), the European framework of a mostly unreciprocated political interest shown by Basque nationalists towards the Irish case was similarly reflected within the Basque-Argentinian and Irish-Argentinian communities.57 Back on the European side of the Atlantic, the Milesian myth that had grounded the parameters of a folkloric and occasionally politically edged ‘association’ between the Basque Country and Ireland for centuries did not figure to any extent across Basque-Irish transnational discourse throughout the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This absence adds weight to the thesis that it was congruent claims for autonomy that mainly drove the development of increased political (albeit heavily asymmetric) Basque-Irish engagement. From 1912 onwards, long-standing Irish nationalist demands for an autonomous arrangement with London appeared ever closer on the horizon. However, as briefly referred to in Chapter 1, an Irish (and potentially UKwide) civil war over Ulster unionist opposition to Irish Home Rule was only narrowly staved off by the outbreak of the Great War in 1914. After two decades of the PNV’s consistent position on the Irish Question, logic dictated that any radical strike for Irish independence during Britain’s precarious war would be looked upon critically among the Anglophile leadership of the jeltzales. On Easter Monday, 24 April 1916, and seemingly against all perceived wisdom in Britain and Ireland, just such a radical strike for independence occurred. Standing outside the neo-classical General Post Office (GPO) building on Dublin’s main thoroughfare of O’Connell Street, a 36-year-old teacher and writer named Patrick (or Pádraig) Pearse read aloud the ‘Proclamation of the Irish Republic’. Conclusion The rebirth is, then, a fact in the European nationalities that seemed more prostrate: from Iceland to the Basque Country, and from the Slavic provinces to Erin—as one Celtic writer puts it—the good news of the resurgence of the old nationalities spreads.58 (Euskalduna, 27.08.1908)

34  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) From early medieval utilisations of Basque-Irish origin myths to the PNV’s parallelisation of its nationalist cause with the Irish Home Rule movement, this chapter has illustrated the long historical trajectory of Basque-Irish relations until the eve of the 1916 Rising. Given that prior to 1916, tangible (‘talking to’ rather than ‘talking about’) Irish nationalist/republican-Basque nationalist contacts and relations had yet to materialise, the three key questions that ground this study are challenging to apply to this era: What are the historical facts (i.e., individuals, groups, encounters, discourse) that have underpinned the relationship between Irish republicanism and radical Basque nationalism? How and why has this relationship evolved in the manner that it has across multiple eras, individuals, organisations and movement strands (e.g., political, military, youth, cultural, prisoner, European, women, historical memory)? Has this nexus had any tangible impact (and if so, to what extent?) on the historical development of each respective political culture and, by extension, their associated conflicts? Despite this lack of applicability, the core rationale of these inquiries may still serve to guide some concluding remarks. From the medieval period onwards, a Basque-Irish ‘association’, grounded in the broader Milesian origin myth (purported peopling of Ireland), linked the Basque and Irish people in ‘popular’ discourse, or at the very least, among the educated Anglophone classes, well into the nineteenth century. Across the same timeframe, the Basque-specific strand of this myth and the wider Iberian-Irish origin narrative were often invoked and leveraged for various political, social and economic ends. From the second third of the nineteenth century onwards, political movements in the Basque provinces and Ireland that centred on preserving or attaining different forms of autonomy (Basque fuerismo and Irish Home Rule) became more pronounced within their respective contexts. The relative convergence of grievances and aspirations around these issues gradually encouraged Basque and Irish elites to draw more overt political parallels and analogies between the two cases. When the PNV was founded in 1895, Ireland (in tandem with its relationship with Britain and her Empire) immediately became a key international reference for the party’s leading jeltzales. Indeed, up until 1916, the PNV perceived Irish Home Rule to be increasingly within the grasp of Irish nationalists. Given that a similar analogous scenario in the Basque context (restoration of the foruak) would have satisfied the demands of a majority of the PNV at this juncture (the moderate, ascendant wing), the emulative appeal of the IPP’s Home Rule movement and the perception, rightly or wrongly, of British accommodation of Irish political claims in contrast to Spain, were strong currents within Basque nationalist discourse. In contrast to Basque nationalist engagement with the Irish case, neither constitutionalist Irish nationalists nor revolutionary-minded republicans approached or analysed the

From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)  35 Basque political situation to the same extent. As such, the development of the Basque-Irish transnational dynamic between 1895 and 1915 was heavily asymmetric. Finally, mutual Basque-Irish concerns around language also occasionally featured in the PNV’s engagement with Ireland and in sporadic Irish nationalist references to the Basque case. Notwithstanding the considerable Irish presence within early Basque nationalist discourse, there is little evidence to suggest that PNV engagement with the Irish case had any direct causal impact or influence on the fundamental ideological, strategic or organisational tenets of Basque nationalism per se. As we shall see in the following chapter, however, the 1916 Rising and the establishment of a revolutionary Irish Republic in 1919 would significantly alter this transnational schema. Notes 1 Nennius, “History of the Britons,” in Six old English chronicles, of which two are now translated from the monkish Latin originals: Ethelwerd’s Chronicle. Asser’s Life of Alfred. Geoffrey of Monmouth’s British history. Gildas, Nennius, and Richard of Cirencester, ed. John Allen Giles (London: Bell & Daldy, 1848), 383–416. 2 Thomas M. Charles-Edwards, “Origin Legends in Ireland and Great Britain,” in Origin Legends in Early Medieval Western Europe, eds. Linda Brady and Patrick Wadden (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2022), 46–74. 3 R.A. Stewart Macalister, ed., Lebor Gabála Érenn (Dublin: Educational Company of Ireland, 1938). 4 Manuel Alberro, “Milesians and Alans in the Northwest of the Iberian Peninsula and the Mythical Invasion of Ireland,” Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, no. 23 (2003); Clíodhna Ní Lionáin, “Lebor Gabála Érenn: The Use and Appropriation of an Irish Origin Legend in Identity Construction at Home and Abroad,” Archaeological Review from Cambridge 27, no. 2 (2012): 33–50. 5 Kerry Ann McKevitt, “Mythologizing Identity and History: A Look at the Celtic Past of Galicia,” Journal of Interdisciplinary Celtic Studies 6 (2006): 651–73. 6 Ó Cróinín, Medieval, 58. 7 Frederick J. Furnivall, ed., The English Conquest of Ireland, A.D. 1166–1185, Mainly From the ‘Expugnatio Hibernica’ of Giraldus Cambrensis (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., 1896), 137. This extract is taken from a fifteenth-century version of Expugnatio Hibernica. Italics for “and” in the ­ fifteenth-­century source. A modern adapted version would read something like: “[…] the people of Ireland come first out of the Basques and out of Bayonne, which belong now to Gascony, where the kings of England have been lords. And thus, you may well understand that, both by old right and by new, the kings own well to have the Lordship of Ireland”. Many thanks to Kyle McCreanor for alerting me to this source. 8 It has been suggested that during the Middle Ages the Basques had a similarly low reputation in England to that of the Irish. John Gillingham, Richard the Lionheart (London: Times Books, 1978), 50. As cited in: Andrew Hadfield, “Briton and Scythian: Tudor Representations of Irish Origins,” Irish Historical Studies 28, no. 112 (1993): 390–408 (footnote 37). Giraldus’ writings also justified the conquest of Ireland based on Papal consent and his portrayal of the Irish as a “filthy people, wallowing in vice”. See: English, Freedom, 41–42.

36  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) 9 Robert Kee, The Green Flag: A History of Irish Nationalism (London: Penguin, 2000), 9–15; “Ireland and Spain,” History Ireland 9, no. 3 (Autumn 2001). 10 Cited in: Juan E. Tazón and Urbano Viñuela Angulo, “‘Caliban’s’ choice in the ‘Irish Tempest’,” Proceedings of the II Conference of SEDERI (1992): 321–29. 11 Lennon, Sixteenth, 300–1. One ancient Irish annal notes that upon his arrival in A Coruña, O’Donnell was “glad to have landed in that place, because it seemed to be a good sign to have arrived in the place from whence his ancestors had held power and had left for Ireland”. See: John O’Donovan, ed., Annals of the Kingdom of Ireland, vol. 6 (Dublin: University Press, 1856), 2293. As cited in: Óscar Recio Morales, España y la perdida de Ulster (Madrid: Ediciones del Laberinto S. L, 2003), 23–24 (footnote 11). 12 Cited in: Recio Morales, España, 22–23. 13 Igor Pérez Tostado, Irish Influence at the Court of Spain in the Seventeenth Century (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2008), 15, 27–30; Beatriz Alonso Acero, “El siglo XVII,” International Review of Military History, no. 92 (2014): 43–82; Ní Lionáin, “Lebor.” 14 Many ‘Wild Geese’ followed in the previous generation’s footsteps and joined the Spanish Army. By 1709 there were three Irish regiments: Irlanda, Hibernia and Ultonia. See: Declan M. Downey, “Beneath the Harp and Burgundian Cross: Irish Regiments in the Spanish Bourbon Army, 1700–1818,” International Review of Military History, no. 92 (2014): 83–105. 15 Michael M. Barkham, “The Spanish Basque Irish Fishery & Trade in the Sixteenth Century,” History Ireland 9, no. 3 (Autumn, 2001): 12–15. 16 Amaia Bilbao Acedos, The Irish Community in the Basque Country, c. 1700– 1800 (Dublin: Geography Publications, 2003), 11, 37–49, 82; Ní Lionáin, “Lebor”; Samuel Fannin, “Documents of Irish interest in Archivo de la Diputación Foral de Bizkaia (Bilbao),” Archivium Hibernicum 64 (2011): 170–93. 17 Fannin, “Documents”; Irish Connections with Spain, Visit of Spanish Prime Minister. Sr. D. Felipe González, 2014/32/1376, National Archives of Ireland [NAI]. 18 Hadfield, “Briton.” 19 Guillermo Bowles, Introducción a la historia natural y a la geografía física de España, 2nd ed. (Madrid: Imprenta Real, 1782), 324–25. 20 John Talbot Dillon, Travels through Spain (London: G. Robinson, 1780), 167–69. 21 Michael J. Quin, A Visit to Spain (London: Hurst, Robinson & Co., 1823), 41– 42; Alexander Slidell-McKenzie, Spain Revisited (London: Richard Bentley. New Burlington Street, 1836), 265–67; Edward Bell Stephens, The Basque Provinces (London: Whittaker & Co., 1837), 152. 22 Agirreazkuenaga, Basque Question, 167–69, 206–7. Coro Rubio Pobes contends that pre-PNV expressions of Basque “nationality” tended to be compatible within the framework of an inclusive Basque-Spanish “double patriotism”. See: Coro Rubio Pobes, La identidad vasca en el siglo XIX: discurso y agentes sociales (­Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva, 2003), 153–76. 23 T.C.W. Blanning, “Conclusion: The French Revolution and Beyond,” in The Eighteenth Century, 1688–1815, ed. T.C.W. Blanning (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 247–54. 24 English, Freedom, 127–29; Kee, Green, 179–82, quote on 179. 25 Ní Lionáin, “Lebor.” It is worth noting that O’Connell’s appetite for Irish sovereignty only extended to a form of autonomous government for Ireland within the UK and British Empire. 26 “The Land Tenures of Europe,” The Nation, 09.10.1847. 27 For example, see: “Continental Literature,” The Nation, 03.12.1842; “Vindicle Celtica. Who are the Celts?” The Nation, 08.03.1851; “‘Keltic’ or ‘Celtic’,” The Nation, 03.04.1869; “Celtic Antiquities,” The Nation, 17.04.1869.

From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915)  37 28 “The situation in Spain,” The Nation, 09.10.1875. See also: “The Week,” The Nation, 04.03.1876; “Carlist War,” The Nation, 29.04.1876; “Carlist War,” The Nation, 20.05.1876. 29 On the complicated gestation of fuerismo, see: Ludger Mees, Nationalism, Violence and Democracy: The Basque Clash of Identities (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 7–8. 30 “Nuestros deseos,” La Unión Vasco-Navarra, 20.04.1881. Cited in: Ander Delgado Cendagortagalarza, “El fuerismo, el Home Rule Bill y la política británica: el contexto internacional en los inicios del movimiento nacionalista vasco (1890– 1903),” Historia Contemporánea, no. 25 (2002): 289–317. 31 Francisco de Goitia, La cuestión de Irlanda y la vascongada (San Sebastián: Imp. La Voz de Guipúzcoa, 1891); José María de Lizana, Cartas irlandesas y húngaras: Precedidas de una carta vascongada de D. Antonio de Trueba (Bilbao: Viuda de Delmas, 1881). For a detailed analysis of de Lizana’s and de Goitia’s texts and their implications regarding the issues of Basque autonomy and identity, see: Corcuera Atienza, Origins, 104–5, 421 (footnote 127). 32 “Lord Salisbury in Wales,” The Nation, 14.04.1888. 33 Watson, Modern, 175. 34 “Zazpiak Bat,” https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/zazpiak-bat/ar146820/, accessed 7 November 2022. 35 See: Sabino Arana Goiri, Bizkaya por su independencia, 3rd ed. (Bilbao: Geu, 1980); “Batallitas del abuelo,” El Correo, 25.08.2018; José Luis de la Granja Sainz, “Batallas de Arrigorriaga y Munguía,” in Diccionario, eds. de Pablo et al., 187–202; “Legends of the Basques,” The Nation, 03.01.1891. 36 Brian Feeney, Sinn Féin: A Hundred Turbulent Years (Dublin: O’Brien Press, 2002), 18–20; Kee, Green, 426–37; Ó Broin, Sinn Féin, 178. At the heart of the Gaelic Revival was the founding of the Gaelic Athletic Association (1884) and the Gaelic League (1893). 37 See: Mees, “Ethnogenesis.” See also: Flynn, Ideology, 162. Prior to the Arana brothers, ‘proto-Basque nationalists’ such as Dominique Joseph Garat and Joseph Augstin-Chaho had already put forward plans for the unification of the Basque provinces and some degree of Basque independence. See: Watson, Modern, 72, 88–89. 38 Mees, Nationalism, 9–10. Aranist concepts of Basque nationalism and identity centred around race. See: Aritz Farwell, “Borne Before the Moone: A Social and Political History of Basque at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century” (PhD diss., University of the Basque Country, 2015), 60–66. 39 Historians have likened this PNV phenomenon to a “patriotic pendulum”. See: Santiago de Pablo and Ludger Mees, El Péndulo Patriótico: Historia del Partido Nacionalista Vasco, 1895–2005 (Barcelona: Crítica, 2005). 40 Alexander Ugalde Zubiri, La Acción Exterior del Nacionalismo Vasco (1890– 1939): Historia, Pensamiento y Relaciones Internacionales (Bilbao: Instituto Vasco de Administración Pública, 1996), 67–154. 41 Núñez Seixas, “Ecos.” 42 “¡Dios proteja á Euskaria!” Euskalduna, 04.07.1897. 43 “Ejemplo que imitar,” Euskalduna, 10.03.1906. See also: “La Libertad en Inglaterra,” La Patria, 29.06.1902; “Parallelo,” Euskalduna, 02.03.1907. 44 Giovanni Costigan, “Romantic Nationalism: Ireland and Europe,” Irish University Review 3, no. 2 (1973): 141–52. 45 Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 132–35; de Pablo and Mees, Péndulo, 23–24. 46 William Douglass and Jon Bilbao, Amerikanuak: Basques in the New World (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1973), 65; Watson, Modern, 118–19. There is evidence to suggest the Arana brothers based their design of the ikurriña flag on

38  From Medieval Myths to Modern Movements (c.830–1915) the British ‘Union Jack’. See: Jesús Casquete and José Luis de la Granja, “Ikurriña,” in Diccionario, eds. de Pablo et al., 508–31. 47 Many Irish political leaders, most notably John Redmond (leader of the IPP from 1900 until his death in 1918), saw no contradiction in being both a firm advocate for Irish Home Rule and a campaigner for Ireland’s place to the forefront of the British Empire and her imperial ‘mission’. See: Pat Walsh, The Rise and Fall of Imperial Ireland: Redmondism in the Context of Britain’s Conquest of South Africa and Its Great War on Germany 1899–1916 (Belfast: Athol Books, 2003), 148; Feeney, Sinn Féin, 67–69. In 1917, Sinn Féin won its first national (abstentionist) seats in successive by-elections. 48 Cited in: Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 133. 9 Luis Eleizalde, Países y razas. Las aspiraciones nacionalistas en diversos pueblos 4 (Bilbao: Grijelmo, 1914). Cited in: Núñez Seixas, “El mito del nacionalismo irlandés y su influencia en los nacionalismos gallego, vasco y catalán (1880–1936),” Spagna Contemporanea, no. 2 (1992): 25–58. 50 Santiago de Pablo, Ludger Mees, and José Antonio Rodríguez Ranz, El Péndulo Patriótico: Historia del Partido Nacionalista Vasco I, 1895–1936 (Barcelona: Crítica, 1999), 74–79. 1 “Ejemplos,” Euskalduna, 27.12.1903. See also: Niall Cullen, “Héroes patrios ir5 landeses y vascos: Una mirada transnacional,” in Héroes y Villanos de la Patria, coord. Ludger Mees (Madrid: Tecnos, 2020), 93–125. 52 Núñez Seixas, “Irlanda.” 53 For the Canadian and Austro-Hungarian influences, see: Thomas Mohr, “Irish Home Rule and Constitutional Reform in the British Empire, 1885–1914,” Revue Française de Civilisation Britannique. French Journal of British Studies XXIV-2 (2019); Arthur Griffith, The Resurrection of Hungary: A Parallel for Ireland, 3rd ed. (Dublin: Whelan and Son, 1918). 54 “Over The Frontier,” Sinn Féin, 16.02.1907. 55 “Colaisde na Mumhan. Opening of Winter Session. Fr. Augustine’s Opening Address,” Irish Examiner, 08.10.1913. See also: “Gaelic League, Lee Branch. Cork City,” Irish Examiner, 09.11.1897; “Scoil Geadhilge Tamhna,” Connacht Tribune, 23.09.1911; “What the Irish Language Is,” Nationalist and Leinster Times, 07.03.1914. 6 “Propaganda Nacionalista,” Euskalduna, 19.07.1903. 5 57 María Eugenia Cruset, Nacionalismo y Diásporas: los casos vasco e irlandés en Argentina (1862–1922) (Universidad Nacional de La Plata: Cátedra Libre de Pensamiento y Cultura Irlandesa, 2015). 58 “Caminemos hacia la realidad,” Euskalduna, 27.8.1908.

3 ‘Let us Learn, Basques’ Fragments of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Nexus (1916–45)

Following Patrick Pearse’s reading of the Proclamation of the Irish Republic on Easter Monday, 1916, his comrades, mainly Irish Volunteers and Irish Citizen Army members, attempted to take control of several strategic locations across Dublin. Only partially successful in this objective, the Easter rebels dug in and sought to hold their positions. Small pockets of rebellion also broke out in other parts of the country. Six days later, the rebels of the 1916 Rising capitulated to the British Army. Of 90 insurgent leaders sentenced to death, 16 were subsequently court-martialled and executed, including all seven signatories to the proclamation. In strictly military terms, the 1916 Rising was a failure; however, the sacrifice of the Easter rebels, the harsh manner in which they were dealt with by the British authorities and the ideal of their short-lived ‘Provisional’ Irish Republic, all began to resonate with the Irish public. Reflecting on the Rising, historians unanimously agree that the events of Easter week 1916 and the subsequent executions of the rebel leaders was a significant transformative moment in Irish history, synthesised and popularised in William Butler Yeats’ famous oxymoronic couplet: “All changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born”. While there is unanimity regarding the transformative impact of the Rising in Irish historiography, there is less consensus as to what this transformation entailed. In other words, what were the short-, medium- and long-term impacts of the Rising with respect to the Irish Question—hitherto largely conceptualised in Irish terms as Home Rule within the UK; understood in British terms as whether to implement Irish Home Rule, and if so, how to do so against a majority of the mainly Ulster-based unionist community.1 From a myriad of analyses, perhaps of most relevance to this study is that of the historian Brian Hanley. In summary, Hanley suggests that the critical transformative impact of the Rising was the demonstrative effect of the rebels’ short-lived nominal Irish Republic and how its proclamation and defence in arms expanded the frame of reference for what Irish nationalists— and Irish people en masse—considered to be politically feasible. In this sense, what had previously been viewed as a realistic and pragmatic answer to the Irish Question (Home Rule within the UK and British Empire) was effectively DOI: 10.4324/9781003368045-3

40  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) supplanted by the ideal of a sovereign Irish Republic, which thereafter served as the de facto political aspiration for a majority of the Irish public. Indeed, this transformative effect was evidenced only two-and-a-half years later when Sinn Féin, running on a mandate to establish such a republic, swept aside the IPP at the December 1918 General Election. The ripple effects of the Irish revolutionaries’ actions would also be felt much farther afield, including in the Basque Country.2 Basque Reflections in the Irish Mirror It began with my father, Eli Gallastegi.3 (Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017) Let us learn, Basques. Never in the history of nations has there been such an exemplary case as this titanic struggle of seven centuries for the independence of the homeland.4 (Eli Gallastegi, writing in Aberri, 1921) In the days and weeks following the 1916 Rising, the leading Basque nationalist newspaper of the era, Euzkadi, published a series of articles highly critical of the Irish rebels. For instance, Engracio de Aranzadi (Kizkitza), the newspaper’s director, chastised those Irish rebels who had “stamp[ed] their convictions with blood”.5 Likewise, the aforementioned Axe singled out Pearse as a “deluded, almost demented” figure. Finally, Sinn Féin was maligned as a revolutionary minority that is opposed on all fronts to the moderate, enterprising and legalist majority currently led by John Redmond […] Declared enemies of ‘Home Rule’, of parliamentarism, of all pragmatism with the English government, [Sinn Féin] are pleased to see in John Redmond—as they saw in Parnell and before in O’Connell—‘the greatest enemy of Ireland, after England’, and they only accept independence, immediate and at all costs, the sovereign remedy for all the ills suffered by the green island.6 Several elements account for the critical stance taken by Basque nationalist stalwarts vis-à-vis the Easter Rising. First, as we have seen in the previous chapter, throughout the previous two decades (1895–1915), the PNV had keenly followed, supported and attempted to extrapolate political capital and emulative lessons from the IPP’s advances towards the objective of Irish Home Rule. Second, the contemporary context of the Great War fed into the Basque nationalist perspective: Britain, long admired by Basque nationalists, was seen as defending a small Catholic nation in the shape of Belgium. The Irish rebels, by contrast, were seen as naively beholden to Imperial

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  41 Germany—­Britain’s wartime enemy. And third, not only was condemnation of the Irish rebels’ actions (if not necessarily their sense of patriotism) consistent with the PNV’s approach to the Irish Question, but it also served as a warning shot across the bows to an increasingly radical, dissident wing of the Basque Nationalist Party. Oscillating between moderate and radical positions almost since its inception, the PNV had begun to badly fracture around 1914 due to the perceived marginalisation of non-Biscayan interests, divergent views on autonomist/ pro-independence strategies, and conflicting positions regarding the imperial protagonists of the Great War. While the moderates controlled Euzkadi and the central levers of power within the party, the more radical wing coalesced around Juventud Vasca (Basque Youth) and the Euzkeldun Batzokija (Basque Social Centre) of Luis Arana, who was expelled from the party in 1916. Reflecting these intra-party tensions, the moderate, ascendant majority of the PNV officially changed the party’s name to Comunión Nacionalista Vasca (CNV, Basque Nationalist Communion) that same year.7 In contrast to the critical line taken by the likes of de Aranzadi and de Eleizalde towards the 1916 Rising rebels, for the radical faction of Basque nationalism, the executed Irish leaders were venerated as heroes and martyrs who had sacrificed themselves for the salvation and renewal of their nation.8 When Roger Casement, the last of the rebel leaders to meet his fate, was executed in London in August 1916, the two competing Basque nationalist analyses of the Rising came to a head. In Luis Arana’s publication, Bizkaitarra, “the horrible execution of [the] brave Irish hero” Casement was lamented as follows: Poor Erin! pleasant and sweet Erin, who moans with bitter tears—like the Basque Country—under the British boot that heavily oppresses you […] Ireland, do not mind the bloody execution of your dear son […] This will be the fruitful seed of new heroes who, influencing your children, will give rise to new and brave fighters. Euzkadi, meanwhile, centred on the misguided naivety of Casement, “who, believing he was serving his homeland, fell, as we said, into the ambush prepared by the enemies of Irish Nationalism”. In protest against the line taken by the latter periodical, the director of Juventud Vasca in Bilbao, Eli (Elías) Gallastegi (or Gallastegui, Gudari), demanded, without success, that Euzkadi issue a retraction. Within a few months of the Rising, divergent Basque nationalist attitudes and analyses of Ireland and the events that had occurred during Easter week, 1916, had become another theme to further divide the Basque nationalist family into moderate and radical factions.9 The Irish inflexion in these Basque nationalist divisions was to run deep. Whatever limited role the Irish Question and Irish nationalism had played as an international reference in Basque nationalist discourse prior to 1916

42  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) irrevocably shifted with the Rising and the subsequent events of the Irish Revolutionary Period. In the same way that Pearse et al. had imagined a new Ireland, embodied in the Proclamation of the Republic, the reflections of these events in the Basque context—what Núñez Seixas refers to as the ‘Irish Mirror’—not only reformulated Ireland as a useful ideological, strategic and tactical international reference for Basque nationalists, but à la Hanley’s analysis, also assisted in recalibrating what was (rightly or wrongly) considered feasible in the Basque Country for an emerging section of radical Basque nationalists. For Eli Gallastegi in particular, more so than any other radical Basque nationalist of his generation, the Easter Rising had sparked a life-long engagement with Irish republicanism and the demonstrative lessons that it ostensibly provided to Basque nationalists.10 Self-Determination

They say ‘the right of self-determination’ of all people. How are you to distinguish what the people want when you make that statement? Is it to be by the size of the body which makes the claim, or what is it? […] They say, ‘We represent Ireland; we want it. It does not matter what another part of Ireland wishes; they have to submit to our desire.’ That is what they mean by ‘self-determination’. These phrases are only generalities, which have actually no meaning. I think it was at the time of the French Revolution—I am not quite sure of the exact time at which it happened—that some speakers were eloquently expressing these views about self-determination, and a member of the Chamber, with some common sense, got up and said, ‘Well, the Basques are really quite different from Frenchmen. They do not talk our language; they are in every sense a different nationality. If they ask for self-determination as against France, what would your answer be?’ There was a universal shout, ‘They would be traitors!’ That is what these hon. Gentlemen mean. If the community in Ulster does not agree with them, their selfdetermination means that the people of Ulster are traitors, and they have got to be made to agree with them. (Andrew Bonar Law, MP) No; it means that the majority have to rule in Ireland.11 (Thomas Scanlan, MP) The Irish Revolutionary Period was not just a domestic British-Irish affair defined solely by internal political dynamics. On the contrary, the broader international context heavily influenced its course, and outcome. Perhaps most significant in this regard was the prominence of the concept of ‘self-determination’ in international politics circa 1918/1919. Various factors fuelled this newly acquired pre-eminence: the macro narrative of the victorious wartime allies, who claimed World War I had been fought in defence of small nations; US President Woodrow Wilson’s 14-point plan, which centred on the notion

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  43 of inalienable principles of self-determination; and the rapid dismantlement and/or dismemberment of the German, Russian, Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman Empires. As the above excerpt from a November 1918 Westminster debate between Andrew Bonar Law (then leader of the Conservative Party) and an Irish Parliamentary Party MP, Thomas Scanlan, exemplifies, the ‘Wilsonian moment’ also overarched and impinged on the Irish Question. Yet Britain, having emerged on the victorious side of the Great War with her vast intercontinental empire still intact, was never likely to concede Irish selfdetermination willingly.12 Complicating matters further and as Bonar Law’s comments provoke: Even if self-determination were granted to Ireland, how could this be squared with the opposition of the unionist/Protestant tradition in the northeast of the island, given that an extremely limited form of selfgovernment, as outlined in the Third Home Rule Bill of 1912, had been deemed by the forces of Ulster unionism to be ‘beyond the pale’, both figuratively and literally? A month after his involvement in the above parliamentary exchange, Scanlan and nearly all of his IPP colleagues were ousted as political representatives of the Irish people following the December 1918 General Election. As expected, Sinn Féin left the newly vacated Westminster seats empty. Heralding the electoral victory of Sinn Féin in Ireland, the radical sector of the recently renamed CNV, who by now were usually referred to as aberrianos on account of their newspaper Aberri, rushed to claim vindication for the laudatory position they had held towards the 1916 rebels. In doing so, they also simultaneously attacked their moderate party colleagues and put Ireland front and centre as a model for Basque nationalists to “imitate”: Those brave sons of Ireland who never betrayed the blood of the homeland from which they were born, those brave Sinn Féiners who risked their lives in the streets of Dublin without retreating a step before the heavy fire of the English machine guns […] those brave comrades of the intrepid patriot Roger Casement, so furiously attacked by the snarling newspaper Euzkadi, have obtained a great triumph in the elections held recently in [the UK] […] With admiration and respect, we salute the comrades of Casement, intransigent and loyal to the patriotic truth. They, with the energy and strength instilled by patriotism and sustained by sincerity and good manhood, lead us to imitate their high example. Let us therefore follow their conduct precisely, so that one day we will also see with holy joy in our Basque Country, the triumph of the legitimate representatives of the enslaved homeland. This triumph, like the one now in Ireland, will be the prelude to the scared independence of our unfortunate Basque Country.13 Sinn Féin’s “great triumph” was not as complete as perhaps some of the aberrianos understood or wanted to acknowledge. Leaving aside the political, legal and moral arguments around this issue, there was no escaping the

44  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) reality that Sinn Féin’s interpretation of Irish self-determination was at odds with both a sizeable unionist community in the northeast of Ireland and the British Government in London. The Irish Republic that convened in Dublin in January 1919—an “illegal parliament consisting of democratically elected representatives”14—immediately set its face towards a political showdown with London. Meanwhile, on the military side of the republican movement, many of the Irish Volunteers incarcerated after the 1916 Rising had reorganised under the direction of the IRB. Replenished and strengthened by thousands of new members, in early 1919 the ‘Volunteers’ assumed a new raison d’être as the army of the nascent Irish Republic. These Óglaigh na hÉireann (Volunteers of Ireland) would soon become more popularly known as the Irish Republican Army, or simply, the IRA.15 By political and/or military means, the contested issue of Irish self-determination and the Ulster riddle encased within it looked set to be clarified one way or another. A Message to the Free Nations of the World

On the same day that the First Dáil Éireann (Irish Assembly) convened (21 January 1919), the Irish War of Independence began. While the IRA unofficially (and from 1921, officially) spearheaded the revolutionary government’s military campaign with a force of some 70,000 to 115,000 volunteers, this was but one component of the republic’s multifocal struggle to establish itself through its own parliament, courts, cabinet and police force.16 Another front would be crucial: the court of international opinion. From the outset, Dáil Éireann deputies were keenly aware of the need to win legitimacy abroad if the Irish Republic were to have any chance of surviving. For instance, a ‘Message to the Free Nations of the World’, formally seeking recognition for the fledgling entity, was issued on its inauguration. Likewise, in the summer of 1919, Éamon de Valera, the newly coined President of Dáil Éireann, began a lengthy tour of the United States to rally support. Closer to home, Seán Tomás Ó Ceallaigh, the new assembly’s Ceann Comhairle (Chairperson), became the Irish Republic’s first ‘ambassador’ in Paris. In the French capital, Ó Ceallaigh made concerted, yet ultimately futile, attempts to gain representation at the Versailles peace talks. Several analogous offices to Ó Ceallaigh’s in Paris would be set up internationally, including, as we shall see, in Spain and Argentina.17 Similarly influenced by the new departure that Woodrow Wilson’s thesis on self-determination seemed to herald, Basque nationalists also sought to establish a foothold of recognition in the emerging post-war international order. However, despite personally petitioning Woodrow Wilson and seeking Basque representation at both the Versailles Conference and the founding of the League of Nations, these raised expectations amounted to little.18 The CNV encountered further setbacks on the domestic front when Basque (and Catalan) political initiatives aimed at exerting pressure on Madrid to grant limited autonomous control ended in acrimony and violence on the

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  45 streets of Bilbao and Barcelona in 1920. Political and juridical repression of Basque nationalists followed, contributing to the radicalisation of the aberriano wing of the CNV and a definitive split with their moderate comunitario brethren in 1921. Even though differences of opinion over the 1916 Rising and the Irish Revolutionary Period did not directly contribute to this parting of ways, the Irish Mirror had, as succinctly put by Núñez Seixas, “acted as a talisman that defined the positions of one and the other”.19 It was within these dual contexts—that of a revolutionary Irish Government seeking international legitimacy and Basque nationalists’ frustrated attempts at attaining a minimum level of Basque autonomy and/or international recognition—that the first tangible (‘talking to’) contacts and relations between radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans would start to develop on the peripheries of the Irish Republic’s diplomatic hubs in Madrid and Buenos Aires. The Irish Republic and Spain

A young Dubliner, Máire O’Brien (or Ní Bhríain), was living in Spain when the 1916 Rising began. A whole month would pass before she discovered what had happened. By that stage, all the Rising leaders apart from Roger Casement had been executed, with hundreds of active participants and suspected sympathisers—usually collectively referred to as ‘Sinn Féiners’— rounded up and sent to Britain for internment. Deeply affected by the news, O’Brien began collecting for “Sinn Féin and the Prisoners’ dependent fund” in Spain until, in her own words, “the British consul intervened”. Having returned to Ireland in 1917, O’Brien offered her services to the Dáil Publicity Office in 1920 “for any work that they might wish me to do” in Spain.20 As early as October 1919, Spain had been earmarked by the revolutionary government as one of the countries where “garbled versions of events in Ireland”, usually provided via English news agencies, could potentially be countered. Among the reasons cited for this optimistic outlook was the continued influence of the “exiled noble [Irish] families in Spain from the 16th to 17th centuries” and the fact that Spain and Ireland, as two Catholic nations, were inherently “hostile to” and “wronged by England”.21 Given the need to counter British propaganda and her previous experience in Spain, Máire O’Brien’s offer to the Dáil Publicity Office was accepted. Initially based in Barcelona as ‘Press Agent’ for the republic, Máire O’Brien was reassigned to Madrid during the spring of 1921 by the Sinn Féin TD and external envoy George Gavan Duffy. In general, the bulk of O’Brien’s work in Spain consisted of editing, translating and distributing propaganda material that she received from Dublin and the republic’s main continental office in Paris. Most notably, she translated and conjoined works by the Irish republicans Erskine Childers and Darrel Figgis into one Spanish-language text, La Tragedia de Irlanda (The Tragedy of Ireland). Armed with literature of this ilk, O’Brien lobbied state and regional media, individual Spanish

46  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) Congress deputies and the Spanish public from her base in Madrid. On one occasion, she also received a visit from the Duke of Tetuán, Juan O’Donnell, “in full regimentals”, to her tiny Madrid flat/office. All extant reports regarding O’Brien’s work in Spain suggest that her mission was deemed reasonably successful, if ultimately limited, in disseminating the republic’s cause and in countering British media and propaganda.22 If Spain was deemed a priori susceptible to the revolutionary government’s propaganda—“a big field open and untilled” according to Gavan Duffy23— where did the Basque Country figure, if at all, in the Irish Republic’s schema? Existing evidence from Irish reports would suggest that although there was apparently “great popularity of the Irish movement in Barcelona and Viscaya [Biscay]”, the quid pro quo of such support was also “an impediment to interests in Madrid”. Indeed, according to one contemporary Irish diplomatic source from September 1921, this weakness was being exploited by a successful (British and/or Spanish) counter-propaganda campaign: Attempt made and with certain success to confound Irish case and Irish movement with that of Viscaya and Catalonia, and even to represent the IRA as akin to the Socialist and Anarchical party of Barcelona, this is a factor that works on prejudices with the Church and Catholic Party […] Hence although possibly the great popularity of the Irish movement in Barcelona and Viscaya is an impediment to its interests in Madrid it could nevertheless probably be utilised for commercial purposes. Among the “suggested means of organising propaganda” were to “[establish] a strong centre in Madrid; for Madrid is the place that counts”, and “to have Consuls if possible in Barcelona and Bilbao”.24 Probably written by Robert Brennan, appointed Under-Secretary of Foreign Affairs (USFA) by Éamon de Valera in February 1921, the following section of the same document indicates that incremental republican contacts had already been made with Basque nationalist figures: Sota the head of the Great Shipping Company of Bilbao (Sota y Anans [sic]) one of the great leaders of the Basque movement. His son Manuel de la Sota (whom I did not meet though he called on me) most enthusiastic in the Irish Cause.25 Aside from being a well-known industrialist and shipping magnate, Ramón de la Sota owned the newspaper Euzkadi. Reflecting the Anglophile tradition of the Basque nationalist comunitarios, he had famously leased part of his fleet to the British during the Great War. Conversely, his son Manuel (Txanka) was a leading aberriano. Given that Brennan visited O’Brien in Madrid in 1921, it is likely that his contacts with the de la Sotas centred around the same trip.26 Kyle McCreanor’s research on Basque-Irish contacts from the same period offers additional evidence of contact between O’Brien and Ramón de la Sota

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  47 concerning the possible publication of Irish republican propaganda in Euzkadi.27 Separately, an Irish journalist named W. O’Mahony was said to have visited the Basque Country in 1921 and written “several interesting articles about the Irish movement” for the elder de la Sota’s newspaper.28 Although the above-mentioned Irish consul in Bilbao never materialised, opinions around the Irish Question were starting to change in the Basque Country regardless. As Watson and Ugalde Zubiri note, the moderate CNV’s initial hostile attitude towards the Irish revolutionaries, as reflected in the pages of Euzkadi in the immediate aftermath of the Rising, gradually began to turn towards a more pro-republican stance as events unfolded throughout the Revolutionary Period.29 For Watson, the CNV’s about-turn may be attributed to the analogous political fissures that could be drawn between Hegoalde (Basque Country and Navarre) and Ulster vis-à-vis the rest of Ireland. In this equation, the CNV’s jeltzales essentially “used Ulster in a guarded attack on what it saw as a traitorous element within the Basque Country: the Spanish liberal parties”.30 Another significant factor in the CNV’s volte-face was the stark political realities born out of Sinn Féin’s 1918 electoral victory and the establishment of the Irish Republic. In other words, with the Irish Home Rule project effectively killed off, so too was any remaining relevance of the IPP and the Home Rule movement to Basque nationalists’ analysis of Ireland and the Irish Question. Growing Basque nationalist solidarity with the Irish Republic’s cause did not go unnoticed in Ireland. In May 1920, favourable articles that had appeared in Euzkadi were reported in the popular Irish nationalist daily of the time, Freeman’s Journal, as evidence of a “friendship [that] has, in our own times, developed into warmest sympathy—a sympathy born of fellowfeeling, and of which we have had within recent years practical and very generous proof”. Incidentally, the same newspaper, under the headline of “Sinn Féin in Spain”, had reported on the repression of the official bulletin of the provincial government of Biscay in early 1919.31 Aside from coverage in the Basque nationalist press, what other relationship strands may have existed between elements of the revolutionary government (Sinn Féin) and sympathetic Basque nationalist groups, factions or individuals during this period? O’Brien’s recollections of her time in Spain offer little more than what has been mentioned above. Nor does the research conducted by Núñez Seixas or McCreanor reveal any hint of a ‘smoking gun’ regarding possible efforts to import arms from the Basque Country, Catalonia or Spain more generally throughout the War of Independence. For weaponry, the IRA would look to Britain, Italy, the Soviet Union, Germany and the United States instead.32 A British intelligence report from the spring of 1921 is probably indicative of the true level and dynamic of contacts between Irish republicans and Basque nationalists, radical or otherwise, throughout the War of Independence. Although the report suggests a certain degree of Irish-Basque contact at a propaganda level, which can be more than likely attributed to O’Brien and/or Brennan, in the same breath, it highlights—akin to the Irish Republic’s analysis—that Sinn Féin’s propaganda campaign in Madrid was effectively

48  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) hamstrung by unfavourable analogies that could be drawn between the Irish cause and the Basque/Catalan nationalist movements within Spain: The pro-­Sinn Féin campaign continues in certain separatist organs. There is little doubt that the Sinn Féiners are in communication with the separatists in Catalonia and the Basque Provinces. Responsible Spanish newspapers have, however, generally abandoned the Sinn Féin cause, since parallels between Sinn Féin and the Basque and Catalan movements can too easily be drawn. Foreigners, however, are not affected by such trifles. J. [sic] Gavan Duffy who is called an emissary extraordinary of the Sinn Féin Republic and member of Parliament, gave an interview to the ‘Debate’ early in March, in which he stated he had found comrades in other countries, but brothers in Spain. He asserts that in Ireland the good fight is carried on by the Republican Army who, with an iron discipline, are actuated by a solemn faith in their ultimate success, against which the power of England is shattering itself.33 Despite the resolute words of George Gavan Duffy, England did not “shatter itself” against the “solemn faith” of the Irish revolutionaries and the oath to the Irish Republic that all IRA volunteers (and Dáil deputies) had foresworn to uphold. Instead, a truce was declared between both sides in June 1921. Indeed, Gavan Duffy would be one of seven Irish signatories to the Anglo-Irish Treaty, signed in London on 6 December 1921. By any metric, the Anglo-Irish Treaty, signed under the British Prime Minister David Lloyd George’s threatened resumption of “immediate and terrible war”, fell far short of the sovereign 32-county Irish Republic that had nominally existed since January 1919. Defending the treaty in subsequent Dáil debates, Gavan Duffy articulated the dilemma the negotiators had encountered in London and the choice now faced by Sinn Féin as to whether it should accept the terms on offer or be subject to the resumption of war with Britain: I do not love this Treaty now any more than I loved it when I signed it, but I do not think that that is an adequate answer, that it is an adequate motive for rejection to point out that some of us signed the Treaty under duress, nor to say that this Treaty will not lead to permanent peace. It is necessary before you reject the Treaty to go further than that and to produce to the people of Ireland a rational alternative (hear, hear). My heart is with those who are against the Treaty, but my reason is against them, because I can see no rational alternative. You may reject the Treaty and gamble, for it is a gamble, upon what will happen next. You may have a plebiscite in this country, which no serious man can wish to have, because after what you have seen here it is obvious that it will rend the country from one end to the other, and leave memories of bitterness and acrimony that will last a generation. You may gamble on the prospects of a renewal of that horrible war, which I for one

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  49 have only seen from afar, but which I know those who have so nobly withstood do not wish to see begun again without a clear prospect of getting further than they are to-day. We are told that this is a surrender of principle. If that be so, we must be asked to believe that every one of those who have gone before us in previous fights, and who in the end have had to lay down their arms or surrender in order to avert a greater evil to the people, have likewise been guilty of a breach of principle. I do not think an argument of that kind will get you much further. No!34 On 7 January 1922, a majority of Dáil Éireann deputies (64 in favour; 57 against) approved the Anglo-Irish Treaty. With Éamon de Valera leading anti-treaty republicans out of the parliamentary chamber in response, Sinn Féin and the IRA effectively split along pro- and anti-treaty lines. When news of the vote reached Máire O’Brien in Madrid, she resigned her position, returned to Dublin, and immediately offered her services to those who would continue to fight for what they considered to be the legitimate government of the Irish Republic.35 Rejection of the Anglo-Irish Treaty and its institutional apparatus would become a fundamental keystone of the Irish republican movement’s doctrine and the underlying rationale of its political and military praxis. The Irish Republic and Argentina

When Patrick Pearse’s rebels occupied the GPO on the morning of Easter Monday 1916, a young Argentinian of Irish stock named Eamon Bulfin was among the volunteers. Born in 1892 in Buenos Aires, it was Bulfin who was charged with hoisting the green-and-gold flag emblazoned with ‘Irish Republic’ from the rooftop of the same building.36 Within a week, however, both the flag and Bulfin were captured by British forces. Alongside hundreds of his comrades, Bulfin was subsequently incarcerated in Frongoch Camp in northern Wales. Eventually deported to his native Argentina in May 1919, Bulfin began working as an emissary for the Irish Republic. Occasionally working in tandem with Sinn Féin TD Laurence Ginnell, who was made a representative of the Irish Government to South America in 1921, both men sought to further the interests of the Irish Republic along the Río de la Plata.37 Argentina was somewhat of a mixed bag for the official delegation of the Irish Republic. Although Ginnell attended various public functions, secured interviews with newspapers and raised loans within the Irish-Argentinian community, outside of the Irish-Argentinian bubble—riven with “intense factionalism”—general Argentinian awareness and interest in the Irish Republic’s cause was thin on the ground. As one official source stated, Irish “friends” in Argentina were solely limited to “Argentine Nationalists and Priests” and “representatives of small nations here (Basques etc)”.38 Regarding this Basque connection, Ginnell and another Irish representative to Argentina, Patrick J. Little, were hosted and toasted by ‘Basque Clubs’ on at least two occasions. According to Little’s records, on 25 October 1921,

50  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) the Irish representatives were invited to a “Basque Club, where they paid us great honours and spoke with great eloquence”. The following month, Ginnell attended another Basque banquet, during which a laudatory speech by one Tomás Otaegui affirmed that “Jaun Zuria, the first Lord of the Republic of Biscay, came from beautiful Erin”.39 In contrast to the goodwill shown by the Basque community in Argentina towards their Irish comrades, the Argentinian Government, presided over by Hípolito Yrigoyen (himself of Basque extraction), was reportedly at pains not to “involve [Argentina] in diplomatic entanglements by recognising [the Irish] Republic”.40 Running parallel to the Irish diplomatic offensive in Argentina, a handful of underground Irish groups operating in and around Buenos Aires kept British intelligence agents on their toes from 1919 to 1921. Among the suspected security concerns cited in British records were the activities of various Círculo Irlandés (Irish Circle) branches. For instance, a British intelligence report from November 1920 stated that the Irish Circle in Buenos Aires intended to blow up the ‘British Building’, which housed the UK’s diplomatic post and various British companies. Another raised the prospect of Sinn Féin attacks on British Government representatives, shipping companies and industrial establishments.41 Despite the Irish Circle’s efforts to propagandise for the nascent revolutionary Irish Republic, the official Irish delegation in Argentina generally viewed the former dimly. For example, in April 1920, Eamon Bulfin wrote to de Valera to outline his frustrations at the ad hoc association, whom he suggested: “represented nobody but themselves”. Bulfin continued: “It would be advisable to hold no communication with them if any real good is to be done for the Republic here”.42 In parallel to Bulfin, another Irish-Argentinian republican had crossed the Atlantic to his ancestral homeland prior to the Easter Rising. Born in 1900 and raised in a small town outside of Buenos Aires, Ambrose (or Ambrosio) Martin arrived at his maternal Grand Uncle’s farm in Westmeath in 1914, apparently “unable to speak any language but Spanish”. By March 1919, Martin’s “part in the Sinn Féin Movement” had led to his arrest in Dublin, “arranged by the RIC [Royal Irish Constabulary], the English Police and the Argentine Police”.43 Initially incarcerated in Liverpool, England, akin to his republican compatriot Eamon Bulfin, Ambrose Martin was subsequently deported back to Argentina in May 1919. In fact, both men travelled together on the same ship, the SS Deseado.44 Having landed work in Argentina in early 1920 on an estancia owned by Patrick McManus, a leading member of the Irish Circle and uncle-in-law to Eamon Bulfin, Martin later became McManus’ personal secretary, assisting in running the Irish Circle branches. Although he would later claim to have personally founded a number of the Irish Circle branches in Argentina, analysis of Martin’s papers from this era would suggest a more modest administrative involvement.45 Having arrived in Argentina on the same ship as Eamon Bulfin in 1919, Ambrose Martin set off to return to Ireland in the wake of the AngloIrish Treaty of December 1921. En route, however, in late March 1922, his ship docked in Bilbao. Martin would spend the next four to five weeks

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  51 delivering political lectures in towns and villages across Biscay. Apparently in the Basque Country to visit “old friends”, by the time the Irish-Argentinian republican departed again, he had made many more.46 Leaving a Trail of Sacrifice

Ambrose Martin’s arrival in Bilbao in the spring of 1922 was the first time the Irish-Argentinian had set foot in the Basque Country. Having grown up in the town of Suipacha, however (a settlement known for its mix of Irish and Basque immigrant communities), it is quite likely that he was already versed in Basque affairs. In fact, there is evidence to suggest that Martin may have had some knowledge of Euskara.47 Beginning with an event at the headquarters of Juventud Vasca in Bilbao on 1 April, Martin would spend the rest of the month giving talks in Biscayan youth and social centre venues on the Sinn Féin movement, the experience of the Irish Republic and the potential lessons Basque political activists could extrapolate. His final talk took place in Algorta on 28 April 1922.48 Exactly how and why Martin ended up delivering political lectures every second day in the Basque Country throughout April 1922 is still unclear. What can be discerned, however, by the identities of the fellow speakers on his ‘tour’ (e.g., Eli Gallastegi, Manuel de Eguileor, Francisco Gaztañaga), is that it is highly likely Martin was hosted and chaperoned by the radical aberriano wing of Basque nationalism. Regardless of its provenance, Martin’s tour went down a storm among the aberriano faithful. Indeed, by the end of his trip, he was being lauded almost as a heroic embodiment of the Irish revolution itself: An Irishman, a patriot, a lad of 22 years, a story of a great man. He has been imprisoned and persecuted for definitively affirming that his homeland, Ireland, is independent and free. His simple and heroic life, like that of all the defenders of the oppressed Homelands, has a tinge of blood. Ah! No one will free himself from bondage without leaving a trail of sacrifice in his path. Son of Ireland, of that island humid and green, full of inner fire, like a volcano, land of the ballads of poetry and martyrs, and of men with the heart of a lion.49 Ambrose Martin’s spring 1922 visit to the Basque Country came eight months after the radical aberriano wing of Basque nationalism had reconsecrated itself under the original name of the PNV (September 1921). In this sense, the radical PNV-aberrianos could not have been more primed to absorb Martin’s lectures on ‘the ideals of the Irish Republic’—lectures containing demonstrative and emulative examples from which the young Basque nationalists could engage with and learn from. The following extracts from Aberri illustrate this transfer vividly: We have never seen our patriotic youth get so excited as last Saturday, prompted by the warm words of the most eloquent Irish speaker

52  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) who honored the Basque Youth stage […] With a moving, prophetic, suggestive voice he gave us an emotional account of the tragic epic of glorious Ireland, which has found in the patriotism of its children a mysterious and irresistible force that drives against the enemy race […] During his brief stay in this country, on the way to his homeland, this young patriot—a character of steel—has not rested for a single moment in the propagation of the ideals of the Irish Republic, of which he is a devoted and courageous defender […] The Basque Youth of Bilbao could not have taken advantage of a more opportune occasion to lift the spirits of its members, with the living example of a man who has known how to sacrifice fortune, goods and home delicacies on the altar of the Nation, singing, far from her, in the bitterness of exile, her heroic virtues and her unfading glory. This is how the people are educated. Our congratulations to [Basque] Youth and our most effusive and cordial greetings to such a warm visitor. Long live the independent Irish Republic!50 Those of us who pride ourselves as Basque patriots must learn and imitate the exemplary work that this indefatigable sower of the Nationalist Ideal has developed at every moment, and in all the territories he has visited. Because the day that we can count in our ranks half a dozen young people of the spirit of soul, culture, patriotism and the spirit of sacrifice of the Irishman Mr Martin, we will have conquered not only the belligerence and sympathies of the whole world, but we will have even achieved the liberation of our Race.51 In addition to Martin’s broad galvanising impact on the young aberriano-­ PNV activists, a lecture he delivered on the Irish republican Cumann na mBan (Women’s League) has been widely credited as the spur for the establishment of a sister Basque organisation, Emakume Abertzale Batza (EAB, Basque Association of Patriotic Women).52 In short, by any objective measure, Martin’s tour of the Basque Country had been a resounding success. Leaving for Ireland in early May, the Irish-Argentinian returned to a country on the brink of civil war between those in favour of the Anglo-Irish Treaty and those against it. Martin was firmly in the latter category.53 While reaction to the signing of the Anglo-Irish Treaty had been broadly positive within the Basque nationalist community—with even Eli Gallastegi taking a circumspect view54—once the Irish Civil War began in June 1922, expressions of aberriano sympathy solidified behind the anti-treaty republicans.55 Given Eli Gallastegi’s enthusiasm for a Sinn Féin-esque movement of associations and organisations that could provide the basis for a radical Basque civil alternative to the Spanish State and Ambrose Martin’s firm rejection of the AngloIrish Treaty, it is not surprising that each man would find in the other a close political affinity.56

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  53

Figure 3.1 ‘Un propagandista irlandés’ (An Irish propagandist). Illustration of Ambrose Martin on the cover of Aberri, 19.05.1922. By permission of Bizkaiko Foru Liburutegia – Biblioteca Foral de Bizkaia. Bizkaiko Foru ­Aldundia – Diputación Foral de Bizkaia.

54  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) Republicans and Rebels (Part I) The Irish Civil War ended on 24 May 1923 when IRA Chief of Staff Frank Aiken ordered all units “to dump arms”. Fought between adversaries who had until so recently been allies against the British, the bitter conflict was pockmarked by several high-profile assassinations, and the summary executions of at least 77 ‘anti-treatyites’ and civilians at the hands of Saorstát Éireann forces.57 By war’s end, the 32-county Irish Republic, proclaimed by a militant minority in 1916 and unilaterally established by an electoral majority in 1919, had definitively given way to the 26-county Irish Free State. In an address to the “Soldiers of the Republic. Legion of the Rearguard”, de Valera acknowledged that “The Republic can no longer be defended successfully by your arms […] Military victory must be allowed to rest for the moment with those who have destroyed the Republic”.58 Concurrently, in Spain, an Andalusian Captain General of the Spanish Army, Miguel Primo de Rivera, wrested power in September 1923 and quickly established a military dictatorship. Given the title of Prime Minister by King Alfonso XIII, Primo de Rivera attempted to justify his usurpation of Spanish democracy by presenting his regime as a stop-gap “parenthesis” that would be reversed just “as soon as the country offers us men uncontaminated with the vices of political organisation”.59 The ascent of the hard-line Spanish nationalist to power led to the immediate repression and dismantling of the radical aberriano-PNV’s publications, social centres and the exile of many of the movement’s rank-and-file members. Although more tolerated by the regime, the CNV also had to withdraw its Basque nationalist rhetoric from public.60 Owing to civil war defeat and an authoritarian coup, Irish republicans and radical Basque nationalists were essentially driven underground in 1923. These altered political contexts would frame the fitful and fragmented contacts and relations between the two political cultures over the next decade. Legions of the Rearguard

While Eamon Bulfin was the man charged with hoisting the Irish Republic flag over the GPO in 1916, one anecdote suggests his republican comrade in Argentina Laurence Ginnell had donated the green bed sheets from which the famous green-and-gold banner was tailored.61 Ginnell was not so willing to part with the Irish Republic itself. After rejecting the terms of the Anglo-Irish Treaty, Ginnell was subsequently made the Irish Republic’s ambassador to the USA by de Valera, where he served until his death in April 1923. According to an article published in Aberri two months later, Ginnell was said to have helped to facilitate an official meeting between Éamon de Valera and the aberriano-PNV (or at least a representative of theirs) in Dublin: “[T]he Basque Nationalist Party, through the Irish deputy and minister, Mr. Ginnell, had obtained a credential for a dear friend of ours to represent us in Dublin

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  55 before Mr. Eamon de Valera”. Kyle McCreanor hypothesises, with good reason, that the “dear friend” in question probably refers to Ambrose Martin.62 Pinpointing exactly when this meeting took place is challenging. In 1936, Ambrose Martin claimed to have accompanied a Basque member of the clergy to Dublin (in 1920) for a “two-hour conversation with de Valera, who was then in hiding”.63 There are two problems with this claim. First, de Valera embarked for the United States on 1 June 1919 and did not set foot on Irish soil again until 20 December 1920.64 And second, Ambrose Martin was himself in Argentina from 1919 until 1922. Another source, Eli Gallastegi’s Por La Libertad Vasca (For Basque Freedom), refers to an encounter having taken place between a Basque nationalist delegation and de Valera in the early 1920s. Once again, however, it is difficult to confidently determine a specific year with accuracy.65 A final piece of evidence suggests that the meeting referred to by Martin and Gallastegi may have occurred in September 1924—the same year that an aberriano nationalist and ex-cleric Francisco Gaztañaga personally delivered to de Valera an invitation to participate in a League of Oppressed Nations that was being set up in Paris by Catalan and Basque nationalists.66 If this is indeed the true source of the early-1920’s aberriano-PNV/de Valera encounter, it would tally with Martin’s subsequent 1936 claim to have accompanied a Basque “cleric” to meet the Irish leader. Although further research is required to determine when exactly the aberriano-­PNV/de Valera encounter occurred and who facilitated it, it may be considered as the first ‘organisational’ meeting of Irish republican and radical Basque nationalist entities. Having probably chaperoned Gaztañaga to the de Valera meeting in September 1924, the following month Ambrose Martin left Ireland “for Bilbao in the Basque Province of Spain”, according to an interview conducted several years later by a Garda Síochána (Irish Police) sergeant with his estranged wife.67 Martin’s presence in the Basque Country did not go unnoticed. In November 1924, Martin, Gaztañaga, Gallastegi, and ten other aberriano Basque nationalists were happened upon by Spanish police as they gathered for a clandestine political encounter in Ordizia, Gipuzkoa. Described as an “an official from the Irish ‘Sinn Féin’ army”, Martin had apparently attended the meeting to discuss the Irish struggle for independence. While there is evidence to suggest that Martin may have been arrested in Ordizia, he seemingly managed to escape (or was perhaps released without charge). Either way, the mercurial Irish-Argentinian crossed the border into France soon after.68 Eli Gallastegi and three other aberrianos at the Ordizia meeting were not so lucky. Formally charged, it would be a full year before Gallastegi was due to face court.69 In May 1925, whilst awaiting trial, Gallastegi decided to throw a huge prewedding bachelor party in the elegant surroundings of Artxanda, overlooking Bilbao. Attended by as many 500 people, including prominent Basque nationalists, Gudari used the celebratory occasion to mix the personal with the political, doling out praise to leading protagonists of various national

56  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) struggles, including Éamon de Valera. Given the size of the event, the political oppression of Basque nationalists at the time and Gallastegi’s credentials as a leading aberriano, the celebratory atmosphere in Artxanda was unsurprisingly cut short by the arrival of armed police. Gallastegi was forced to flee.70 A few months after his aborted bachelor party, Eli Gallastegi was finally due in court in relation to the clandestine meeting in Ordizia and other political charges. Weighing up the situation, Gudari decided to cross the frontier from Spain into France.71 Eli Gallastegi was neither the first nor last Basque political activist to make the trip across the Pyrenees into exile under Primo de Rivera’s authoritarian regime. North of the border, radical Basque (aberriano) and Catalan nationalists maintained regular contact in shared exile. Francisco Gaztañaga, who moved periodically between Paris and Hamburg, emerged as the main aberriano in the French capital. Meanwhile, Francesc Macià, head of the Catalan proindependence Estat Catalá (Catalan State), held court in the Paris commune of Bois-Colombes. In January 1925, Gaztañaga agreed to a ‘Pacto de la Libre Alianza’ (Pact of Free Alliance) with the Catalans. This accord anticipated the execution of an armed revolt against the Spanish State, eventually leading to Basque and Catalan independence. In autumn of the same year, another Paris-based aberriano, Adolfo Larrañaga, set out the Basques’ provisional plans to his Catalan counterparts. Larrañaga’s audacious proposal envisaged the arming of 300 Basque volunteers who would ostensibly go on pilgrimage to the French town of Lourdes. Once armed and ready, this group would then lead a naval attack on Bilbao from Bordeaux, sparking an insurrection. If it is true that the plot owed much of its inspiration to the 1916 Rising, as de Pablo, Mees and Rodríguez Ranz suggest, it was destined to suffer from the same poor planning that had hampered the Easter rebels.72 While Larrañaga’s plan never came to fruition, Basque-Catalan revolt against the dictatorship still hung in the air. Having more than likely fled the clandestine Ordizia gathering in November 1924, Ambrose Martin was now also living in the French capital. Indeed, his de facto home was none other than Estat Catalá’s premises in Bois-Colombes. Completing the picture, Leopold Kerney, an envoy to the defeated anti-treaty Irish Republic—still presided over by its President Éamon de Valera—was based in Paris. As the following section illustrates, Paris would provide an ideal meeting point for the exiled Irish, Basque and Catalan figures. Dangerous Friends

In 1924, the Estat Catalá leader Francesc Macià and his aberriano allies in Paris were eager to involve Éamon de Valera in the aforementioned League of Oppressed Nations. This league, it was envisaged, would seek to coordinate

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  57 mutual assistance between its ‘oppressed’ associates. Prospective members included Catalonia, the Basque Country, Galicia, India, Ireland, Philippines, Egypt and Morocco, among others. Despite Éamon de Valera giving authorisation for Leopold Kerney to attend the league’s inauguration as the Irish representative, there is no evidence that Kerney actually did so.73 Nonetheless, Kerney began to develop close relations with Macià in Paris. In addition to Kerney’s close relationship with Macià—and Macià’s with Martin—­Kerney and Martin became mutual acquaintances in the French capital, thus completing the triangle. Regarding the third of these relationship strands, the Andorran historian Soler Parício cites a series of letters sent between the two men, which, in Soler Parício’s view, suggests that Martin acted as a sort of “intermediary” between Kerney and Macià.74 On 17 March 1925, all three attended a St Patrick’s Day banquet hosted by Kerney and organised under the banner of the Cercle Français Irlande (French Ireland Club), an ostensibly “non-political” entity.75 Addressing the guests, Macià invited his “distinguished friend” and “republican soldier” Martin to read out a message on behalf of the Catalan people: [I]t is not just us who are sitting here at this table. Over and above us are our countries. So, it is not for us personally that we break the bread and spill the wine, but for Ireland and Catalonia. This act is the consecration in friendship of two peoples who are, at the present, brothers of slavery and martyrdom and will be, in a short future, brothers in resurrection and deliverance.76 Christian-imbued words of transnational solidarity notwithstanding, private correspondence between the USFA of the defeated (though-still-acting) government of the Irish Republic and Kerney in Paris hint at an unease around the Irish Republic being associated with such “dangerous friends”; that is to say, nationalist movements located outside of the British Empire.77 One despatch to Kerney read: “Macià:- (present at the banquet?) M.F.A. [Minister for Foreign Affairs] agrees with you about this and the care needed”.78 On 6 May 1925, Kerney responded: Catalonia. I have read with interest the warning note enclosed with your letter and am glad to have it. There is of course difficulty in steering a proper course. We cannot prevent Catalonia from parading our tricolour in furtherance of their own interests and we cannot take sides as between them and the Spaniards. Yet, we are anxious for openly expressed sympathy wherever we can get it. There are ‘freestaters’ in Catalonia, as well as in India and elsewhere, and they are necessarily opposed to us; separatists there and in other countries may indeed be dangerous friends, unless these countries are situated in the British

58  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) Empire. I do not seek close contact with the Catalans but hesitate to refuse their sympathy. Failing definite instructions from you, I use my own judgement as best I can. Separatist Catalans affirm that they are preparing an armed revolt; if this is true, and if they succeeded, they might possibly be able to render us good service.79 Potential “dangerous friends” of the usurped Irish Republic were not limited to non-British Empire “separatists”, Catalan or otherwise. In the aftermath of the Irish Civil War, anti-treaty republicans were also wary of being associated with communism, given that such perceptions could be seized upon by Saorstát Éireann and/or the pro-treaty and powerful Catholic Church in Ireland. Indeed, this preoccupation was explicitly communicated to Kerney by way of a letter sent from the USFA in June 1925.80 Returning to Kerney’s typed despatch of 6 May 1925, a scribbled note, presumably penned by the envoy himself, reads: “I am advised that the President of Euzkadi will call on me at the end of May”.81 The rest of May came and went with no visit from the “President of Euzkadi”—an office that in reality did not exist. However, slightly later than expected, a prominent Basque did indeed turn up at Kerney’s Paris office in June. It was Eli Gallastegi. This may not have been the first time that Kerney and Gallastegi had met. According to a letter written by Kerney in 1937, the two men had been acquainted for about 15 years (circa 1922).82 Kerney’s account of his 1925 Paris conversation with Gallastegi is immediately striking in light of the main topic of discussion: the possible exportation of arms. Uzkadi [sic]. Had a visit from Mr. Galastegi [sic], who said he was known to P. [President de Valera] to whom he desired me to convey his greetings; his wife is President of an organisation similar to and inspired by example of Cumann na mBan. For documentary purposes, I suggested that a report as to possibilities of his country being able to supply light artillery, machine guns, rifles, etc, the conditions of payment and shipping facilities would be of great interest to me personally and he promised to give me information of this kind. Otherwise, our conversation ran on general lines and I kept in mind your recent warning, which would no doubt apply to these people also.83 Despite Kerney’s statement that his inquiry was simply for “documentary purposes”, the reality is that both men at the time represented clandestine movements that sought to usurp enemy states in their respective homelands. Indeed, Kerney’s biographer Barry Whelan surmises the episode as “rather peculiar, given the envoy’s previous lack of interest in any military consideration”.84 In truth, it is difficult to discern Kerney’s true motivations regarding his inquiry. It is also hard to see how Eli Gallastegi, an exiled Basque nationalist in France, could have realistically assisted in exporting arms, presumably

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  59 to Ireland. Unfortunately, the reply Kerney received from his USFA adds little further insight: Uzakdi [sic]: and the visit paid you by Dr. Galastegi [sic]—his message to P [de Valera] and your talk with him. This was very interesting and I have sent copies to M.D. [Minister for Defence], Keo [unknown], and another. I hope that you may get the information for which you asked.85 Kerney wrote another letter to the republican government’s USFA in early July. This time he had news of a written request sent to him by Ambrose Martin, who was apparently now in Bilbao. It read: Martin, about whom I write to you in my No. 120 + 131 and see yours 24th Feb [italics handwritten in the original] writes to me from Bilbao to ask if I can recommend a couple of furniture polishers, ‘members of I.R.A. or at least men who have taken an active part for Irish Republic; we will not have any others. Their return fare from Dublin would be paid. Work guaranteed as soon as they arrive in Bilbao. Earnings will depend on themselves, for it is they will fix the prices for different classes of work, and they will be fully occupied. They will have to answer some questions before being engaged. There must be a good many people out of work in Dublin belonging to our organisation whom we would wish to help’. He asks for men who will be ready to work well and who will be a credit to the country. The work is to polish all kinds of high-class furniture. He asks to be put in touch with Sinn Féin employment bureau. Can you recommend a couple of men with experience in this line? I am asking Martin whether they must necessarily (as I presume) have previous knowledge of the work. You know the circumstances in that country and whilst I think the offer very interesting, it would doubtless be well to select reliable men, on whose discretion, judgement and intelligence you could count.86 Martin’s request for IRA “furniture polishers” in Bilbao can, of course, be taken literally at face value. Coinciding as it did, however, with the various Basque and Catalan plots afoot in Paris—the latter of which Kerney was evidently aware of—it may also be interpreted as a proposition for work in Bilbao more befitting to “members of I.R.A. or at least men who have taken an active part for Irish Republic” than polishing furniture. Dated a week apart (10 and 17 July 1925), Kerney received the following updates from the Irish Republic’s USFA concerning Martin’s “furniture polishers” proposal: Martin: – I am circulating these questions and asking for names. I also checked KEO [unknown] for the same. In a few days’ time I hope to have some suggestions.87

60  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) Bilbao. Martin, French Polishers: Today I get [sic] this message from K.E.O. [unknown] – that X department [unknown] has sent out queries to Cork, Belfast and Dublin to find out if there are any such workers unemployed and willing to go to France. Uskadi [sic]: One of Keo’s [unknown] confreres after getting a copy of this passage in your last letters, wrote asking that you would be kind enough to report the success, if any, of your request for information. In answer I said that I was sure that you would do this, but that you would have to wait long, perhaps, to find a door to door messenger, such information being valuable and requiring care in transmission.88 The last mention of Martin in Kerney’s papers came on 19 July 1925 in a despatch sent to the USFA that simply read: “Martin. I have not heard further from him”.89 It is safe to assume that the IRA ‘furniture polishers’ did not arrive in Bilbao. Apart from Ambrose Martin’s letter from Bilbao to Leopold Kerney, the former’s writings identify his de facto residence from early 1925 to late 1926 as Bois-Colombes in Paris. From Estat Català’s premises, Martin exchanged letters with his wife, who wrote of the destitution that she and their children faced in Ireland. On occasions, she beseeched him to return; on others, she warned him that he, as a republican, had no future in the Irish Free State.90 Martin’s wife also wrote to a ‘Cosme de Orrantia’, whose identity Martin had assumed.91 Aided by a Cosme de Orrantia passport, Martin gained temporary employment as a Spanish teacher in Hamburg, Germany. Given that the Basque aberriano Francisco Gaztañaga regularly moved between Paris and Hamburg, he may have assisted Martin in this regard.92 As we shall see, the real Cosme de Orrantia, an aberriano nationalist, would end up in Ireland in 1940. In addition to his fake passport, Martin left several writings in Bois-Colombes. These included vague notes on military tactics, espionage, the movement of armed units and analysis of the political situation in Ireland.93 It is unlikely that they were of much use to Francesc Macià, who was about to launch his planned uprising. In November 1926, Macià and his co-conspirators were detained by French authorities close to the Spanish border in the town of Prats Molló.94 By the time the rebellion was foiled (Plot of Prats Molló), Ambrose Martin had already seemingly vacated Estat Català’s Paris residence, as evidenced by a letter addressed to Macià in which the Irish-Argentinian exclaimed his disappointment at not being called on to form part of the Catalan’s “heroic band”. An extract from Martin’s letter reads: Fate has not permitted you to culminate your life and the lives of your noble compatriots on the altar of freedom, but the good God that everything [illegible] can be decreed, at this most opportune moment your noble blood will open the gates of freedom for Catalonia. As the blood

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  61 of the son of God opened the gates of heaven. I have only one thing of which I am not very happy about, that you, knowing my love for all oppressed peoples, have not called me to form part of your heroic band. I hope that in the near future when another heroic band is formed for the same ideal you will not forget that we Irish are brothers to all the patriots of the world who like you and yours have the faith and the strength to rebel against the chains of the oppressor.95 This letter from Martin to Macià may be considered emblematic of the contacts and relations between Irish republicans and Basque and Catalan nationalists documented in this section. Notwithstanding Kerney’s and Martin’s associations with Macià and Gallastegi and their apparent awareness of military plots and discussions of arms, these relations were ultimately grounded in (and probably limited to) overblown Christian-imbued nationalist rhetoric. For Kerney, having been given a free hand by de Valera to develop the Irish Republic’s interests with all manner of international actors in Paris (communists aside), contacts and relations with exiled Basque and Catalan nationalists were practically inevitable. Radical Basque and Catalan nationalists such as Macià and Gallastegi, however, were also seen as potentially “dangerous”. In this sense, deeper Irish-Basque and/or Irish-Catalan cooperation, at this juncture, was always likely to be constrained by the fear of too close an association. At the 1926 Sinn Féin Ard Fheis, Éamon de Valera declared that he would end his abstention from the Irish Free State parliament if the oath to the British monarch was removed. Unable to carry a majority in favour of this shift in policy, de Valera and his supporters formed Fianna Fáil (Soldiers of Destiny), leaving Sinn Féin split and representatives such as Kerney in a bind as to what to do next: maintain a ‘pure’ anti-treaty Sinn Féin republican stance, or join the new anti-treaty republican ranks of Fianna Fáil? Before Kerney had made up his mind, de Valera’s successor as President of Sinn Féin, Art O’Connor, ended Kerney’s work with the party and, by extension, his work with the Irish Republic by way of a letter in October 1926.96 Under the Fianna Fáil label, de Valera would go on to build the most successful political party in the Irish State. By contrast, Sinn Féin would become a “ghost-like” organisation, effectively disappearing into irrelevancy for the next three decades.97 Coinciding with Kerney’s retreat from diplomacy, the other key nexus brokers in Irish republican-radical Basque (and Catalan) nationalist relations from this period similarly experienced significant changes in their personal and political lives. In the wake of the failed Plot of Prats Molló and a short stint in a French prison, Francesc Macià crossed the Atlantic to the Americas in 1927. He would later return to his homeland to become President of the Catalan Government in the 1930s. Having left Paris in late 1926, Ambrose Martin made his way to Argentina in 1927, where he set up a

62  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) confectionary store appropriately named Confitería VascoIrlandesa (BasqueIrish Confectionary). Finally, in December 1926, Eli Gallastegi went into exile in Mexico with his wife Margarita and their young son, Iker. Once settled, Gallastegi started work on a new Basque nationalist periodical called Patria Vasca (1928–32). As his writings from this period testify, Gudari’s reverence for the Irish Revolutionary Period remained central to his articulation of a socially imbued vision of aberrianismo. In sharp contrast, and continuing a by-now evident asymmetric trajectory, the Basque Country was absent from international coverage in the Irish republican movement’s An Phoblacht throughout the 1920s and early 1930s.98 With Eli Gallastegi in Mexico and Ambrose Martin in Argentina, there was a distinct lull in contacts and communications between radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans post-1926. However, it was not long until the geopolitical plates shifted once again. Gallastegi and Martin, the hitherto leading brokers of this nexus—one, a significant leader of the aberriano-PNV, the other, a peripheral figure in Irish republican circles—would both return to Europe in the early 1930s and fall into the same political orbits. Republicans and Rebels (Part II) After seven years of dictatorship in Spain, Primo de Rivera eventually capitulated to mounting internal military and external public pressure in January 1930. His sudden resignation sparked a profound political crisis in Spain, leading to the establishment of the Second Spanish Republic the following year. Emerging from years of underground stasis, Basque nationalism now had the opportunity to reorganise once again as an open movement. In September 1930, a ‘Comité pro-resurgimiento vasco’ (Basque resurgence committee) sought to take stock and debate the future strategic direction of the movement. A decade on since the Irish War of Independence, Irish republicanism was still a major reference. For instance, Telesforo UribeEchevarría, an aberriano nationalist who would one day flee to Ireland as a refugee, frequently cited Sinn Féin in his efforts to steer the Basque nationalist body politic towards clear leftist and non-confessional positions. Intra-Basque nationalist talks eventually culminated in a rapprochement between the aberriano-PNV and comunitario-CNV factions and the unification of the party once again under the PNV label in 1931. The following year, on Easter Sunday, 27 March 1932, the first Basque Aberri Eguna (Day of the Fatherland) took place. Inaugurated to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of Sabino Arana’s nationalist epiphany, Aberri Eguna has since morphed into a Basque national holiday. Although the newly reorganised PNV projected an external unity of purpose, all was not well within the Basque nationalist family. First, having rejected the confessional, right-wing orientation of the new PNV, UribeEchevarría and a group of leftist nationalists immediately broke away to form Acción Nacionalista Vasca (ANV, Basque Nationalist Action). And,

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  63 second, acrimonious debates over whether the PNV should seek an autonomous arrangement with Spain, or some form of federalisation, complete independence, and so forth, returned to dog the party. Under the leadership of a young, charismatic jeltzale named José Antonio Aguirre, the moderate tendency within the PNV ultimately prevailed. On the other side of this divide was Eli Gallastegi.99 Having returned from Mexico in March 1931 and thrown himself back into Basque politics, Gallastegi, together with other influential aberrianos and the Basque nationalist mountaineering group Mendigoxales, established a political faction called Jagi-Jagi (Arise-Arise) in September 1932. Without formally breaking from the PNV, Jagi-Jagi sought to recapture the pure Aranism of early Basque nationalism by advocating for outright independence. As Gallastegi’s biographer Lorenzo Espinosa notes, the radical group’s political model and self-titled periodical, Jagi-Jagi, owed much of its orientation to “the political trajectory of pro-Irish independence”. Irish republican influences on the political culture of Jagi-Jagi were not difficult to spot. For instance, the Mendigoxales proudly co-opted ‘Sinn Féin’ for their motto, ‘Gu Bakarritik’. Likewise, in the cultural realm, a translation by Jagi-Jagi’s Manuel de la Sota (Txanka) of William Butler Yeats’ fervently nationalist Cathleen ni Houlihan was received enthusiastically across the Basque Country in the 1930s. Echoing the Basque nationalist split of 1921, Jagi-Jagi eventually fell from the PNV whip in 1934.100 From the beginning of the 1930s, significant political changes were also afoot in Ireland. In 1931, the Statute of Westminster elevated the Irish Free State and other British ‘Dominions’ (Australia, Canada, Newfoundland, New Zealand, South Africa) to greater parity with the Imperial Parliament in Westminster. This meant that aspects of the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921 were now potentially more vulnerable to unilateral Irish modifications and repudiations.101 In domestic politics, a general election to form the Seventh Dáil Éireann was called in early 1932. As we have seen, Éamon de Valera had already ended his boycott of the state’s institutions and re-entered electoral politics as leader of Fianna Fáil. Stoking fears of a communist takeover, the sitting government of Cumann na nGaedheal (League of Gaels), supported by most mainstream media, ran a concerted campaign to portray de Valera as a “Bolshevik stooge” and his Fianna Fáil party as card-carrying communists.102 In this propaganda war, the Second Spanish Republic and its supposed ‘red’ inclinations served as a forewarning for the likely perils that would await Ireland in the event of a Fianna Fáil victory: “It is your duty to help the government party to eliminate once and for all the danger of a Spanish republic in Ireland.… A careless electorate gave Spain a weak government. Then the rest came”.103 Weathering the red narrative, Fianna Fáil won just enough seats to form a minority government with the help of the Irish Labour Party. As well as becoming President of the Executive Council of the Irish Free State, Éamon

64  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) de Valera appointed himself Minister for External Affairs—a position he would hold for the next 16 years. In his dual role, de Valera immediately set about dismantling aspects of the Anglo-Irish Treaty, including the withholding of unpopular land annuities that dated back to the late nineteenth century. De Valera’s stance quickly triggered an Irish ‘Economic War’ with Britain.104 Meanwhile, as a token of goodwill to his former comrades, de Valera released IRA prisoners and suspended all coercive legislation that had been used against republicans under the previous administration.105 Notwithstanding these conciliatory gestures, many Irish republicans remained faithful adherents to the Irish Republic of 1919 and continued to consider the Irish Free State as an illegal usurpation. Not long after Fianna Fáil’s electoral victory, a group of Basque nationalists arrived in Dublin in June 1932. Stemming from a trip made by a 1916 veteran and Irish handball enthusiast Michael Lennon to the Basque Country the previous year—during which he had met the “President of the Basque Pelota Federation in San Sebastian”—a Basque team was invited to compete at the 1932 Tailteann Games.106 The hosting of the Tailteann Games (a modern revival of an ancient Irish athletic championship) also happened to shortly precede the 31st International Eucharistic Congress, which was due to take place in Dublin. Having initially declined the invitation, the Basque delegation, including the PNV nationalists Aingeru Irigaray, Teodoro Hernandorena and a Basque Jesuit priest named Ramón Laborda, decided to take up Lennon’s offer belatedly, as it would present a unique double opportunity to “bring outside the Basque Country our game of pelota and our issue of nationalism”.107 Among the Basques’ activities were audiences with the new Irish premier de Valera and the opposition leader William T. Cosgrave. Mary MacSwiney, an important figure in Cumann na mBan and sister of Terence MacSwiney, who had famously died on hunger strike in 1920, was presented with an ikurriña flag by the Basque delegates.108 Leading figures in EAB had also arranged for the all-male Basque delegation to deliver a recently published book titled Historia Vasca (Basque History) by Father Bernardino de Estella to the President of Cumann na mBan, Eithne Coyle. Handwritten on the book’s inlay was the following message: “Taking advantage of the voyage of some of our countrymen to Ireland the women of Euzkadi have the pleasure of sending you this little token of esteem for your many sacrifices in Erin’s cause”.109 Other meetings were arranged and attended by what could be considered ex-post as a ‘who’s who’ of leading IRA and leftist republicans of the 1930s. An Irish Press report from one such meeting in Dublin speaks to the explicitly anti-imperialist rhetoric that underpinned the expressions of transnational solidarity between the Basque delegates and the assemblage of Irish republicans at this juncture: [O]ver the heads of the 2,500 guests, shone the flag of the Basque people and our own tricolour. The room was full of strange faces, men and women from many lands, men and women who should know Ireland

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  65 deeply, for they came from other Irelands: Bretons, Basques, Flemings […] There is a stir in the room, and Rev. father Ramón Laborda sang the songs of his Basque land, one by a patriot who had given his life […] Mr. Frank Ryan, speaking on behalf of the organising committee, said he would ask the foreign visitors to take back that freedom was not something to be negotiated for but a God-given right to be asserted. The organisations represented in the hall that night were revolutionary organisations who had not made their peace with England, and never would until every vestige of British Imperialism was swept out of Ireland. Señor Irigaray then made a presentation of the Basque flag and a book dealing with the customs of the Basque nation to Miss Eithne Nic Chumhail [Coyle], President of the Cumann na mBan. Speaking in French, he said that he regretted he could not express himself in the beautiful Irish language, but he wished to offer his salutations to the patriotic women of Ireland. Miss Nic Chumhaill acknowledged the gift and presented Señor Irigaray with a volume of the works of Padraigh Pearse. The presentation, she said, was made on behalf of the revolutionary women of Ireland. In the same way that they in Ireland were striving to secure freedom, the Basques were making an effort to break the connection with the big Powers.110 After spending two weeks in Ireland, the Basque delegation returned to their homeland. Back in the Basque Country, their paths may well have crossed with a familiar Irish face. Precisely ten years on from his first influential visit, Ambrose Martin had once again docked in Bilbao.111 Old Friends Reacquainted

Ambrose Martin’s second tour of the Basque Country was as relentless as his first. Criss-crossing Basque territory, from 9 June to 16 July 1932, Martin gave talks on the history of Ireland, its revolutionary experience and the parallels and lessons that could be drawn by Basque nationalists.112 Martin’s analysis of the Irish case and its relevance to Basque nationalists naturally needed some updating. Having survived the darkest days of the Revolutionary Period, the Irish people were now, once again, in the safe hands of de Valera: Mr Martin’s speech was really interesting. In moving detail, he explained the persecution that his homeland was subjected to, placing special emphasis on the heroic figure of MacSwiney, Mayor of Cork, and after giving an account of the date on which he regained his freedoms and giving an accurate overview of the situation today, he ended by saying that the Irish people have full confidence in their leader and that Éamon de Valera works with greatest enthusiasm for his homeland. The speaker received repeated rounds of applause, and the organisation of this conference has been a real success.113 (Euzkadi, 16.06.1932)

66  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) Akin to many previously dissatisfied Irish republicans, Ambrose Martin had evidently found political succour in the shape of Éamon de Valera’s Fianna Fáil, the party now in control of the Irish Free State. In the Basque Country, the redemptory narrative arc of de Valera—the most senior surviving 1916 rebel—was lapped up by moderate, heterodox (ANV) and radical nationalist media alike. For example, in the wake of Fianna Fáil’s second general election victory in January 1933, the PNV member and cleric José de Ariztimuño wrote the following about de Valera in Euzkadi: In the first period from 1916 to 1921, as revolutionary leader of a people to which England felt powerless to impose its power, [England] had to agree a conciliation treaty that de Valera refused, although his delegates, against his instructions, they recognise[d] [it], as we shall see. This second time, [he is] the political head of a nation aided by the power of democratic law. An entire nation has placed their trust in him to achieve the full freedom of Ireland. There will no longer be traitors to the Separatist cause, as were [Michael] Collins and Griffith, and contemporaries such as Cosgrave […] He is not a communist, as has been portrayed. But he is not a supporter of the bourgeoisie and capitalism either. He wants to restore Ireland with Christian social postulates. His separatism is constructive. He is a man who is inspired by the enormous responsibility of creating a free people.114 In the view of the ANV’s Tierra Vasca, the Irish people faced a stark choice at the 1933 General Election: “De Valera or Cosgrave? Liberty or Servility?”.115 Finally, and echoing the immediate fallout of the Irish Revolutionary Period among competing Basque nationalist visions, de Valera’s return to power provided vindication for Gallastegi et al. and their analysis of the Irish Mirror precisely at a time when votes on Basque statutes of autonomy (1932 and 1933) dominated the domestic political agenda. This galvanising Irish-to-Basque transfer may be observed in the closing lines of a February 1932 article published in Jagi-Jagi, in which Fianna Fáil’s electoral victory is discussed: “May the example of the Irish people help us to strengthen our convictions and serve to encourage the salvation of the Basque Country”.116 Reflecting the above sentiment, Eli Gallastegi’s biographer Lorenzo Espinosa has written of de Valera and the Irish republican model as continuously serving to crystallise and buttress the contours of Jagi-Jagi’s political outlook: “Only fidelity to the principles of independence, together with the maintenance of radical attitudes in the political struggle, as the Irish model preached, could lead to true emancipation”. In short, for Jagi-Jagi, there was no more appropriate example than Ireland, “with de Valera to the fore”.117

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  67 Gallastegi’s late son Iker also expressed similar sentiments regarding de Valera and his true republican credentials: The old leaders [of the republican movement], especially Collins, they surrendered; but when de Valera came to power, he broke all connections with England and all that, because the [pro-treaty] others would never have done it. And well, England, she couldn’t do anything about it.118 While it is undoubtedly true that de Valera did much to dismantle the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921, culminating in a new Irish Constitution (Bunreacht na hÉireann) in 1937 and name for the state (Éire/Ireland), it was also de Valera who would end up crushing those Irish republicans of the most “radical attitudes” (i.e., those who continued to hold out and fight for the true Irish Republic of 1919). Within five years of releasing IRA prisoners and cutting back on repressive legislation, de Valera’s government had banned the republican newspaper An Phoblacht and proscribed the IRA as an illegal body. Moreover, during World War II, up to 2,000 republicans were interned and six IRA men executed under draconian legislation that had last been used during the Irish Civil War.119 Having effectively gone AWOL from his family for the best part of a decade, Ambrose Martin returned to Ireland in 1932 after his second tour in the Basque Country.120 Given the costly Economic War with Britain, alternative Irish trade routes were being sought with continental Europe. It was probably during his 1932 stay in the Basque Country or shortly afterwards that Ambrose Martin proposed a business venture to Eli Gallastegi (or vice versa) that would tap into the chronic economic circumstances in Ireland. The two men decided to set up an Irish-Basque trading initiative.121 The Irish-Iberian Trading Company (IITC), founded in 1933 and headed up by Martin in Dublin, worked with a Bilbao-based sister company called Euzkerin (a portmanteau of Euzkadi and Erin). The two entities managed the reciprocal import and export of produce between Spain and Ireland (cattle, eggs and potatoes from Ireland; oranges and other fruits from Spain).122 A preceding Bilbao-based entity Cortina & Co, of which Gallastegi was a “member”, had previously “introduced Irish eggs into Spain”, or at least according to an Irish Government file. Besides the personal financial motivations of those involved, the trade route also served to offset, in its own small way, some of the damage done to the Irish economy caused by the Economic War.123 The IITC-Euzkerin venture benefited greatly from the good offices of Fianna Fáil at home and abroad. Records show that Martin and Leopold Kerney—reinstated by de Valera to the diplomatic service as the Irish Government’s representative to France—discussed the possibility of developing Spanish-Irish trade relations when they met in Paris in 1932. The following year, Kerney travelled to Bilbao as part of an Iberian-wide trade mission

68  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) that resulted in a commercial agreement between Ireland and Spain and the acceleration of diplomatic ties.124 Joining Ambrose Martin in the IITC was Seán Hayes, a Fianna Fáil TD and later, senator. Finally, Patrick Cooney, the brother of Fianna Faíl TD Eamon Cooney, was also involved in the running of the company.125 Martin seemingly harboured his own political ambitions. Evidence of him speaking at a local Fianna Fáil meeting in 1936 and comments about his political affinities in an intelligence report confirm, if there was any doubt, that Fianna Fáil would have been the Irish-Argentinian’s preferred political vehicle. It would appear, however, that rumours of Martin’s personal life, described in one police report euphemistically as “broadminded”, effectively scuppered his chances of a political career.126 In July 1936, a cohort of far-right Spanish Army generals suddenly launched a military rebellion against Spain’s left-wing ‘Popular Front’ government. Not only did the attempted coup plunge the nascent democratic institutions of the Second Spanish Republic into mortal danger, but it also threatened to rip open deep historical, social and political cleavages between what some analysts have conceptualised as ‘Two Spains’ (one: democratic and progressive/liberal; the other: reactionary and conservative).127 Bitter civil war ensued. Unsurprisingly given the circumstances, Eli Gallastegi and Ambrose Martin’s trading venture ended abruptly.128 A Struggle on Every Front

The July 1936 rebellion launched against the Spanish Republic had immediate repercussions in the Basque Country. In response to this gravest of crises, the PNV momentarily dithered before throwing its lot in with the republic.129 Within a matter of days, however, Carlist Requeté militias—opposed ideologically to the secular Popular Front government and the central tenets of Basque nationalism—swiftly took control of conservative heartlands in the rural provinces of Navarre and Álava. Only Biscay and parts of Gipuzkoa remained under effective republican control. By September, a Galician general named Francisco Franco had emerged as commander-in-chief of the ‘Nationalist’ rebels in Spain. After what had been a protracted and often acrimonious process, the PNV finally managed to secure an autonomous Basque statute from the beleaguered republic in October 1936. Under the leadership of Basque Lehendakari (President) José Antonio Aguirre, Euzko Gudarostea (Basque Army) battalions were drawn from various Basque political parties, including two battalions raised from the ranks of the Euzkadi Mendigoizale Batza (EMB, Basque Mountaineering Organisation), which had emerged from the Jagi-Jagi-aligned Mendigoxales. For Eli Gallastegi, the Basques should have nothing to do with the unfolding “Spanish” conflict.130 While Gallastegi may have wanted nothing to do with the war, the war would eventually find him.

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  69 In deeply conservative and Catholic Ireland, the central meta­narrative surrounding the Spanish Civil War was that of a conflict between communism and Christianity. This idea was relentlessly propagated by the main right-wing opposition party in Ireland, Fine Gael (Tribe of the Gaels), the Irish Catholic Church and the state’s biggest selling newspaper, the pro-Franco Irish Independent.131 On 10 August 1936, the former-IRA Chief of Staff and former leader of Fine Gael Eoin O’Duffy published a letter in the Irish Independent calling for an “Anti-Red Crusade” in Spain.132 Sentiment in Ireland regarding the Spanish Civil War was not all one way, however. Republican Congress, a political organisation set up in the main by leftist ex-IRA members, was particularly prominent in defending the democratic mandate of the Spanish Government. For instance, in late 1936, George Gilmore of Republic Congress set off on a one-man mission to the Basque Country to track down Ramón Laborda, the Basque priest who had visited Ireland in 1932. Who better than a Basque nationalist priest to counter the prevailing perception in Ireland of the Spanish conflict as a noble Christian crusade against godless communism? As his flight approached Bilbao, Gilmore’s plane crash-landed during a rainstorm. Hospitalised, and now with a badly injured leg, Gilmore managed to arrange a meeting with Lehendakari Aguirre and other leading jeltzales at the temporary headquarters of the Basque Government in Bilbao’s Carlton Hotel. During their meeting, Aguirre explained to Gilmore that although he did not know the whereabouts of Father Laborda, the Irish republican might have better luck tracking down the priest north of the border in the French Basque Country. Gilmore eventually managed to get hold of Laborda in Bayonne, convincing him to return to Dublin in the new year.133 Back in Dublin, Republican Congress was considering how best to counter the rhetoric of O’Duffy and the newly formed far-right Irish Christian Front (ICF): O’Duffy’s Foreign Legion and the so-called Irish Christian Front […] are taking advantage of the divisions in the national ranks to organise terrorist squads to break up Republican and working-class meetings and to stifle free speech. They are taking advantage, too, of events in Spain to pose as the ‘defenders of Christianity’ here. And abroad, they misinterpret Ireland as a country that would strangle the liberties of her ancient allies the Spanish, Catalan and Basque people. The Fascist organ, the ‘Irish Independent’, is conducting on their behalf, a campaign of calumny and intimidation in an endeavour to isolate the several sections of the Republican and working-class movements in order to destroy each individually. The campaign must be halted. The different, and differing, sections of the Independence movement must act together against Fascism and for the Irish Republic.134

70  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) The same month that this internal document was circulated, Frank Ryan, another leading figure in Republican Congress, sent a telegram to the Spanish Government expressing “sympathy and support to the Spanish, Catalan and Basque people in their fight against Fascism”.135 George Gilmore’s Basque Odyssey was not the only direct contact between Irish republicans and the Basque Government in 1936. In a letter sent to Lehendakari Aguirre from a Paris-based official Daniel de Mendialdua (31 October 1936), the latter described the recent visit of “two leaders of the Irish Republican Army (IRA). A few days ago, Mr O’Donnell [Peadar O’Donnell of Republican Congress] was here and currently the bearer of this [letter]”. Although the “bearer” of de Mendialdua’s letter is not stated, there is a strong possibility that this person was, in fact, George Gilmore, whose rocky flight into Bilbao had taken off from Paris and who, as we have seen, subsequently met with Aguirre in the Biscayan capital. De Mendialdua, who was heavily involved in the procurement of weapons to fight the Nationalist insurgents, subsequently wrote to Lehendakari Aguirre about the possibility of military aid from Ireland: In my conversation with Mr O’Donnell we spoke in general terms of the defects that he had found in our military organisation. He spoke of the lack of cadres of officers and specialists in the different branches in which we could divide the Modern Army, above all, regarding antiaircraft artillery, tanks and cadres of officers and classes. All of this, we could, in part, obtain in Ireland. He also complained about the complete lack of an espionage and counterespionage service, as well as a general information service. Given their years of experience fighting against England, and some with experience obtained during the Great War, they could be of precious help to us at this time and I think if they were written to, we would not lack their support and we could even think of forming an Irish Legion to fight by our side. Speculating on the Irish Government’s stance regarding the war, de Mendialdua suggested that pressure exerted by the pro-Franco lobby in Ireland had thus far constrained de Valera in acting on his sympathies for the Basques and their plight: De Valera and the elite within his majority want to support us in every possible way, but they need to find the justification to do so. Once found, this justification would put them in a position to support us and would even strengthen [de Valera’s] political situation in Ireland, as it would oppose head-on the claims of the [Irish] Christian Front and Irish Fascists who recognise the [rebel] Burgos government and undermine their anti-de Valera propaganda. In the view of de Mendialdua, popular perceptions of the war and the Basques’ role in it could be countered by the right propaganda strategy. To

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  71 this end, he suggested the PNV send a delegate of high calibre, “such as Telesforo Monzón”, to an upcoming meeting on the Spanish Civil War in Dublin.136 Two meetings took place at the Engineer’s Hall in Dublin within a month (5 November and 3 December). Across both nights, Gilmore, alongside his Republican Congress comrades Frank Ryan and Peadar O’Donnell, as well as Ernie O’Malley (an IRA guerrilla leader during the War of Independence) and Father Michael O’Flanagan (President of Sinn Féin, 1933–35), all spoke in support of the Basque Government and against the Irish Independent’s misrepresentation of the war. As Fearghal McGarry notes, the Spanish Civil War and its political connotations in Ireland often played out as a rerun of the Irish Civil War.137 Indeed, at the first Dublin meeting, O’Donnell accused the Irish Independent of “viciously conducting a campaign to work up feeling in Ireland so that it could complete the job it had failed to do in 1913, 1916, and 1922”.138 O’Flanagan, for his part, referred to O’Duffy’s Irish volunteers fighting alongside Franco’s “Moors” as similar to Spaniards fighting alongside the British ‘Black-and-Tans’ (mostly British ex-servicemen who joined the RIC) during the Irish War of Independence.139 Ambrose Martin was also in attendance at both events, seemingly representing “the Basque Government”. De Mendialdua’s suggestion that a senior Basque representative travel to Dublin had evidently not materialised. In his representative capacity, Martin read out the following translated telegram: Basque Nationalist Party, in struggle in these bloody moments for God and liberty, fatherland and democracy, thank your intentions and work to make known the truth in Ireland. Euzkadi remembers once more with emotion, the Irish patriots. Azuria-guerra [sic]. Presidente.140 Reading from his prepared speech, Martin also informed the audience that 25 Basque priests (in reality, approximately 16, including the aforementioned de Ariztimuño) had been recently executed and the Bishop of Vitoria-Gasteiz forced to flee.141 The first Engineer’s Hall meeting immediately raised the ire of Franco’s most prominent Irish supporters. Chief among them was Patrick Belton, a Cumann na nGaedheal TD for Dublin North and President of the ICF. Reacting to the meeting, Belton urged the Irish people not to be deceived “as some of the Basque nationalists [have]” by the Irish “Communists” who “now call themselves Republicans”. Their real agenda, according to Belton, was “to establish Communism in [Ireland] and to do it by the methods adopted in Russia, Mexico, and Spain. It is our job in the Irish Christian Front to stop them”.142 Belton embarked on a boat journey from Dublin to Lisbon via Liverpool two days later. From the Portuguese capital, he would go to Spain and fulfil his objective of meeting the Nationalist rebels’ much-vaunted military leader. Face to face with Francisco Franco, Belton personally offered the Galician

72  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) general “the congratulations of the Irish people on his fight”.143 Many other Irish men were keen to assist General Franco in his “fight” for Spain. Under Eoin O’Duffy’s tutelage, approximately 700 Irish volunteers, divided into two self-styled brigades, would partake in the war on the Nationalist side. On 13 December 1936 and singing the Catholic hymn “Faith of our Fathers”, the vast majority of O’Duffy’s troops left Ireland for Spain on board the German ship Domingo.144 ‘Black Ireland’ Just as there is a ‘black Spain’ in history, there is also a ‘black Ireland’. This odious blackness is represented today by O’Duffy. A bad Irishman is he, and bad Ireland is his […] In contemporary Europe, Ireland appears, above all, with the character of a rebellious people under the yoke of servitude and with the glory of a heroic nation that has risen to reconquer her lost freedoms. The Ireland of O’Connell, of Parnell, of Mac-Swiney [sic], of Eamon de Valera, is respected, admired and loved by the Basques and Catalans. The Basque Country and Catalonia have always been, in spirit, on the side of Ireland, of a national and noble Ireland. This other Ireland that O’Duffy represents is paired—sadly paired—with the Spain of the rebellious generals.145 (Euzkadi, 28.08.1936) At the beckoning of George Gilmore, Ramón Laborda returned to Ireland in January 1937. The priest would spend the next few weeks writing letters to Irish newspapers and delivering public lectures with the help of Ambrose Martin.146 Elaborating on the Basque position, Laborda attempted to refute the accusations of O’Duffy and Belton et al: The Basque people had, in fact, not turned to communism; instead, it was “merely a coincidence that the Basque Nationalists and Communists find themselves in the same camp”. Laborda was only “concerned with the good name and fortunes of my own people in this hour of our small nation’s fight for freedom”.147 As a priest, Laborda’s presence in the Irish media inevitably drew the attention of the ‘anti-Red’ Irish clergy. A back-and-forth debate ensued across the national press involving Laborda on one side, and a Father P.J. Gannon and Father Stephen J. Brown on the other. As well as attacking the Basques’ supposed turn towards ungodly communism, the Irish priests dismissed Basque and Catalan “independence efforts” as the inevitable culmination “of long years of Liberal and Masonic propaganda”. Laborda did his best to refute the claims.148 Laborda received a more sympathetic audience when Ambrose Martin delivered a lecture on his behalf at Dublin’s Gaiety Theatre on 17 January 1937. As with the priest’s interjections in the Irish media, Martin emphasised the Basques’ ardent Christian credentials. For his part, Laborda entertained the audience by singing a number of traditional Basque folk songs.149

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  73 Following the Gaiety meeting, a telegram of goodwill addressed to the Basque Government and signed by Peadar O’Donnell was seemingly received by the Secretariat of the Council of Defence in Bilbao as an offer of “assistance”. Lest there be any misunderstanding, Republican Congress clarified that O’Donnell’s signature was “merely for credential purposes” and “had no other significance”.150 There may have been a reason for Republican Congress to assuage any questioning of its intentions, or at least those of O’Donnell. Dated 10 January 1937, only one week before the Gaiety meeting in Dublin, a telegram sent from Paris to Bilbao from a Basque Government delegate Lezo de Urreiztieta had stated that: “O’Donnel [sic. presumably Peadar O’Donnell] Irish party confirms it has export licence fighter aircraft 2 engine bombing aircraft. Two to three tonne tank trench mortars”.151 If this was loose talk from O’Donnell, it may well have been taken seriously by the Basque Government, given that Lezo was a Jagi-Jagi Basque nationalist entrusted with the importation of military equipment from abroad to the Basque front. Moreover, the Basque Government was in the process of seeking permission from the Spanish Republic to purchase aircraft.152 Laborda continued his tour north of the border to Belfast, accompanied by O’Donnell. At Ulster Hall the priest was heckled by shouts of “Up Franco!” An invitation to speak at the city’s Queen’s University was also withdrawn.153 Ramón Laborda left Ireland shortly afterwards. Reflecting later on his trip, the priest made the following remarks to a Spanish journalist: In Dublin and other Irish towns, at rallies, conferences, publications, on the radio, in the press, for several weeks I have made my voice as a Catholic priest heard in favour of our cause, demonstrating that our War was not a religious one, nor an ideological one; that it was a war imposed on the Spanish working people by a handful of traitors to their homeland… This is what I have proclaimed from the rooftops in Ireland and I have a clear conscience of having my fulfilled my duty as a Catholic and a Spaniard.154 Laborda’s evident positive outlook notwithstanding, the Basque priest must have left Ireland disillusioned with the Irish people and with a heavy heart.155 Had the Basques not “always been, in spirit, on the side of Ireland” in its national struggle? On 26 April 1937, German military aircraft attacked and flattened the Biscayan town of Gernika. Reports of the deliberate and sustained bombing of the civilian population provoked international outrage. This was when Irish public opinion finally became more nuanced concerning the war and the particularities of the Basque dimension. In other words, the Spanish Civil War could no longer be viewed as a “clean crusade” to save Christian civilisation, even if some clerical voices in Ireland claimed the attack to be the “devilish inspiration” of Spanish republicans seeking “to destroy the holy town of

74  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) the Basques and then accuse the Nationalists”.156 It was also in the wake of Gernika’s destruction that evidence of Basque nationalist disenchantment towards Ireland began to emerge. For example, a confidential report sent from de Valera’s private secretary Kathleen O’Connell to Joseph P. Walshe at the Department of External Affairs referenced the frustrations of “the London delegate [José Ignacio Lizaso] of the Autonomous Government of Euzkadi”, who was said to be “greatly distressed” by the Irish Government’s “failure to take any share in the relief work which is being organised”. While Britain welcomed 4,000 Basque children to her shores in the aftermath of the attack, the Irish Government declined to offer similar relief. Once again, the vociferously pro-Franco Irish Independent was significant in this regard.157 On 15 June, José Ignacio Lizaso, the London delegate of the Basque Government, made his frustrations with Ireland public in an explosive interview published in the Irish Times: ‘Oh! Ireland! Ireland!’ [Lizaso] exclaimed. ‘What a disappointment you have been to the Basque people. We have watched your struggle for liberty. We have followed your people with our heartfelt sympathy and love. Our hearts were raised at your victories, and we believed that the spirit of freedom had spread through your land. Had we been asked what country in the whole world we might depend on for sympathy and understanding, I should have at once placed Ireland as the first who would give us courage and hope. And then comes the news that an Irish regiment has arrived to fight against us […] I know all about your Christian Front,’ [Lizaso] said. ‘Are we not Christians? What an insult to our people!’158 Four days after Lizaso’s impassioned words were published, Bilbao fell to the rebel Nationalist troops. With the Basque Government forced into exile, the remains of the Basque Army fell back to Cantabria, where it would later surrender. Having struggled for four decades to achieve a degree of political autonomy for the Basque Country, the nascent PNV-led Basque Government had been decisively crushed. For many Basques, the insurgent Nationalist victory in the north starkly bore out Sabino Arana’s vision of the Basque Country: that of an occupied and subjugated nation.159 Among the thousands of residents evacuated to France shortly before the fall of Bilbao were Eli Gallastegi and his family. After a few months in limbo in France, Gallastegi decided to go farther afield. He and his family would travel to Ireland. Why Ireland? In addition to his evident political interest in the country and his friendship with Ambrose Martin, Gallastegi had also accrued significant back payments related to the IITC-Euzkerin enterprise. These payments had been unable to reach him since the outbreak of the war. While Irish immigration officers tended to turn away foreign ‘aliens’ for fear of worsening the high levels of unemployment in the state, individuals with

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  75 significant assets or wealth tended to have their papers cleared. The Gallastegis were accepted into Ireland in September 1937.160 Apart from the personal wrench of leaving family, friends and homeland behind, Gallastegi’s departure from Bilbao and subsequent settlement in Ireland came with an additional painful cost. Accused of fleeing the good fight, his reputation and standing among many Basque nationalists suffered greatly. Whether justified or not, this strand of criticism proved particularly cutting given Gallastegi’s self-assigned nom de guerre: Gudari (Basque warrior).161 As we shall see in Chapter 6, it was not until the 1990s that Eli Gallastegi would once again become an important reference in radical Basque nationalism. The individual case of Eli Gallastegi aside, Irish attitudes regarding the war and its consequences continued to frustrate Basque nationalists. In early 1938, the Spanish Republic Minister for State, José Giral, granted permission for the Basque Government to nominate a Consul General to Dublin. However, given pro-Nationalist sentiment in Ireland and the Spanish Republic’s treatment of Catholics, at least two attempts to nominate a “Basque Catholic” were refused.162 In August, Michael Lennon, the 1916 Rising veteran who had invited and chaperoned the 1932 Basque delegation to Ireland, wrote to the PNV member Chomin (or Txomin) Epalza (himself a member of the 1932 delegation) with a new proposal: I see no reason why you cannot ask Mr de Valera to take an interest in the future of the Basques. He has come to be seen in Geneva [seat of the League of Nations] as something akin to the father of small nations, and he likes this position. The handling of this would have to be done privately first and in the sense that he asserted with the English [British] Prime Minister in favour of the Basques. If nothing is achieved this way, nothing will have been lost. There is always the possibility that de Valera is dedicated to helping your people, and it is well worth making the effort to try to get his help. To get things moving, Lennon recommended that Lehendakari Aguirre personally write to de Valera. Attempts should also be made to lobby Sir John Keane, a London-based Irish correspondent for the Sunday Times. More ominously, Lennon signed off by warning Epalza that the murder of an Irish governess in Bilbao had generated bad publicity for the Basques and had left de Valera talking “in energetic terms about this issue recently”.163 Alongside Lennon’s letter came an unauthored précis. Most likely penned by Lennon himself, it outlined ostensible support for the Basque cause in Ireland and “Inglaterra” (meaning Britain/the UK). Regarding Irish support, the document read: “A prominent person for the nationalist Party in Ireland

76  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) states that a pro-Basque Country junta has been constituted ready to work on anything that is asked of them”. Further still: Elements of the IRA and Fianna Fáil (party of de Valera) await with interest and anxiety precise and concrete instructions to start working on what is commanded. This means that they could even send military leaders.164 Given his status within Basque circles and the overblown claims of IRA and Fianna Fáil support, it is highly probable that the “prominent person” in question was Ambrose Martin. If Ireland was still a possible source of relief for the beleaguered Basques (giving voice to a small nation, offering humanitarian help, demonstrating a more pro-republic stance, and so on), the second part of the précis concerning “Inglaterra” reflected the true hierarchy of European geopolitics during the Spanish Civil War: “One has to keep in mind that Europe is watching to see what Britain says”.165 With this in mind, could pressure be leveraged on Britain via de Valera as Lennon had suggested in his letter to Epalza? In September 1938, de Valera arrived in Geneva ahead of the 19th Ordinary Session of the League of Nations. Two Basque Government officials, José María Izaurieta and Francisco de Javier de Landáburu, were also in the city at the time.166 Following the instructions of Pedro de Basaldúa, a Parisbased secretary to Lehendakari Aguirre, Izaurieta wrote to de Valera on 13 September. Having received no response from de Valera, Izaurieta remarked that he was “perplexed”. De Landáburu wrote to de Basaldúa four days later: “Desperate that de Valera will receive us these days, much more so for having informed the Geneva press of my name and of the nationalist efforts that we carry out close to S. of D. [most likely Sociedad de las Naciones— League of Nations]”.167 It appears that no meeting took place between de Valera and the Basque nationalists. Whatever hope or expectation that Basque nationalists had of receiving support from the Irish Government—of the moral or material kind, or by way of influencing Britain—was ultimately misplaced. Addressing the League of Nations on the intra-Spanish conflict at the previous year’s session, de Valera had already indicated the underlining rationale of why Basque overtures to Dublin were never likely to be successful: We deplore the interventions and counter-interventions which have bid fair to make Spain a cockpit for every European antagonism. The people of Ireland are far from being indifferent to some of the issues at present being fought out in Spain, but the Irish Government is determined to adhere to the policy of non-intervention and steadfastly to advocate it as the best for Spain and the best for Europe.168

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  77 In contrast to Irish Government non-interventionism, direct non-­ governmental Irish support to the Spanish Republic did eventually materialise in the shape of some 200 Irish-born volunteers, about half of whom were, or had been, members of the post-civil war IRA. Frank Ryan served as their “unofficial and highly regarded moral leader”. Fighting in the International Brigades, Ryan, alongside Peadar O’Donnell and others such as Charlie Donnelly and Bob Doyle, would all go on to become household names of the Irish republican left.169 It has been speculated that whilst incarcerated in Burgos Prison at the tail end of the war, Ryan’s explanations of the IRA’s clandestine structure to a handful of incarcerated Basque soldiers may have inspired the establishment of Euzko Naia (Basque Desire), the successor to Euzko Gudarostea.170 Separately, in a contribution to a book titled Brendan Behan: Interviews and Recollections, Ambrose Martin’s son Eamonn claimed that his father had fought “in the International Brigade with Frank Ryan’s Irish contingent”.171 To my knowledge, there is no evidence to support Eamonn Martin’s assertion. Only one Irishman is known to have volunteered in the Basque battalions. John (or Jack) Prendergast rose to the rank of Captain before he was captured in Cantabria. Only the intervention of Leopold Kerney, who had been moved from Paris to Madrid in 1935 and was now the Irish Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to Spain, prevented his execution. Prendergast was eventually released and crossed the frontier on 23 December 1937. After a stint working in the Basque Information Service in Paris, Prendergast returned to Dublin. In April 1942, he shot and killed his girlfriend before turning the gun on himself. A subsequent inquest found Prendergast to be of an “unsound mind”.172 Finally, after a derisory campaign in Spain, Eoin O’Duffy and his selfstyled Irish brigades returned to Ireland in the summer of 1937.173 In his subsequent autobiographical account of the conflict, O’Duffy reserved considerable hostility for the Basques, whom he accused of allying “with the avowed destroyers of their religion”. As for Basque nationalists, O’Duffy dismissed their claims for independence as “equally absurd” as the notion of six of Ulster’s nine counties seceding from Ireland. Despite this hostility, O’Duffy’s formal agreement with General Franco had asserted that his forces must not be deployed to the Basque theatre of war “for reasons of religion and traditional ties between the Basques and the Irish”.174 With the beleaguered Spanish Republic facing defeat, a desperate Luis Arana travelled to London in late 1938 with his friend Lezo de Urreiztieta, the Jagi-Jagi nationalist who had discussed military hardware with Peadar O’Donnell in early 1937. Arana’s objective in the English capital was to submit an unofficial “message” (with no prior approval from the Basque Government) to the British Foreign Office (FO). Echoing his brother Sabino’s plan nearly four decades earlier, Luis proposed that Britain assume a protectorate role in the Basque Country. Their message delivered, Luis Arana and de

78  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) Urreiztieta made their way to Liverpool, from where they boarded a boat bound for Dublin. Waiting for the two Basques across the Irish Sea on the morning of 12 November 1938 were Eli Gallastegi and Ambrose Martin.175 Since his arrival in Ireland the previous year, Gallastegi and his family had been living in a large house in a rural area called Gibbstown, not too far from Dublin. As part of an Irish Government initiative to support the Irish language, a number of gaelgeoirí families (native Irish speakers) from different parts of the country had recently converged in and around the otherwise unremarkable townland. The Gallastegis had settled into the community well, apparently picking up the Irish language quickly.176 Arana and de Urreiztieta spent four nights as guests of the Gallastegis. According to a diary kept by Luis Arana during the trip, Martin and Gallastegi arranged interviews for both he and de Urreiztieta with the following Fianna Fáil government heavyweights: Gerald Boland, Minister for Lands and Fisheries; Patrick J. Little, Government Chief Whip and, as the reader may recall, a veteran of Irish-Basque contacts in Argentina during the War of Independence; and finally, the Irish Taoiseach (Prime Minister) himself, Éamon de Valera. For unknown reasons, Eli Gallastegi opted not to accompany his Basque compatriots to the meeting with de Valera, apparently provoking the fury of de Urreiztieta. If Luis Arana’s account of this Irish trip is accurate, the level of unofficial Irish Government access afforded to both he and de Urreiztieta is quite remarkable given the delicateness of the diplomatic situation vis-à-vis Spain at this juncture. Apart from informing de Valera of the two men’s message to the British FO, details of what may have been discussed with the Irish Taoiseach, including possible Irish assistance, remain unknown. Arana and de Urreiztieta left Gibbstown on 16 November, returning to the French Basque Country. En route, they spent a night in an elegant French chateau named Kerlut, close to Quimper in Brittany. It had recently been purchased by Ambrose Martin.177 In the spring of 1939, after nearly three years of bitter civil war, Francisco Franco’s Nationalist forces eventually overpowered and defeated the Spanish Republic. There would be no reconciliation in Franco’s ‘New Spain’—only ‘victors’ and ‘vanquished’. In addition to the thousands of republican soldiers, civilians and refugees that were subsequently executed or left to perish in prisons and concentration camps, as many as 150,000 Basques were forced into exile during the war and in its immediate aftermath.178 All the while, the Irish Government was kept abreast of Franco’s vindictive campaign through the regular despatches of its representative in Madrid, Leopold Kerney. Among Kerney’s communications with Dublin was a report of “400 Basques” imprisoned in a concentration camp for alleged separatist sympathies. Despite reports of this ilk and others of a far more gruesome nature, de Valera’s government, neither publicly nor privately, was moved to protest against the new regime or its actions in the Basque Country or elsewhere in Spain.179

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  79 The notion of Ireland as a voice for Basque nationalism during its years of existential threat ultimately came to nothing. And while the actions and attitudes of O’Duffy, his Irish brigades and the ICF could be compartmentalised as representative of an “Irlanda Negra” (Black Ireland), the apparent disregard shown by de Valera and his government—the “father of small nations”—was far more difficult for Basque nationalists to comprehend. Criticism of de Valera and his government’s approach to the Basque Government’s plight must, however, be qualified by the prevailing realpolitik of domestic Irish attitudes to the war. As early as November 1936, de Valera had come under intense pressure from the opposition to recognise Franco’s ‘government’. He had refused to do so. Likewise, the Fianna Fáil leader had managed to pass a Non-Intervention Act through Dáil Éireann in the face of bitter hostility from the pro-Franco Irish Independent and Catholic Church.180 In 1935, a year before the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War, de Valera had sent a personal greeting to the PNV on the occasion of the party’s fortieth anniversary: “With the great sentiments of a patriot. I salute all the Basques and trust that they will obtain their liberties”.181 Five years later, in April 1940, Leopold Kerney received a letter from Joseph P. Walshe in External Affairs concerning the possible diffusion in the Spanish press of propaganda attacking the British partition of Ireland. Walshe enquired as to whether Kerney could perhaps “write occasional paragraphs or columns on the [Irish] unity issue, taking care to make them as international and as unlike the Basque parallel as possible”.182 As Walshe’s letter to Kerney conveys, whatever genuine sympathies de Valera held regarding Basque political “liberties”, or however the cause of Basque nationalism may have been viewed positively within elements of the Irish body politic, these were ultimately secondary afterthoughts to the reality of the Irish State’s desire to maintain positive, long-standing relations with Spain—even in its new, extreme right-wing, dictatorial and ultra-nationalist form. A Basque Village On 14 June 1940, Paris fell to Nazi Germany. As Hitler’s forces drove towards the western and southern peripheries of France, thousands of Basque refugees that had crossed the border from Hegoalde (Spanish Basque Country-Navarre) into Iparralde (French Basque Country-Navarre) when Franco came to power now found themselves squeezed between two hostile protagonists. Less than two weeks later, on 25 June, 11 Basque refugees embarked from Donibane Lohizune on board a Breton lobster boat named Salangane just as German forces approached the town. After 13 days at sea, the refugees eventually landed on the southern coast of Ireland in the town of Cóbh. Once on

80  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) dry land, the group explained to the Irish authorities that they had intended to sail for England but, while at sea, had apparently changed their minds and decided to go to Ireland instead.183 Among the ten men and one woman on board were the aforementioned Telesforo Uribe-Echevarría, a founder of ANV; his brother Manuel, a cartographer in the Basque Army and also a member of ANV; Ángel Aguirreche, former editor of Jagi-Jagi and commander of the two EMB civil war battalions, Lenago il (Death before surrender) and Zergaitik ez? (Why not?); José Camiña, a renowned stockbroker and former advisor to the Basque Government; Manuel de Eguileor, a former President of Juventud Vasca in Bilbao and co-founder of Aberri; and Cosme de Orrantia, the aberriano nationalist whose identity Ambrose Martin had assumed whilst living in France in the mid-1920s.184 The local Irish police were, naturally, none the wiser as to who had just landed ashore. Reports indicate that some of the refugees made it known that they were associates with one of, or both, Eli Gallastegi and Ambrose Martin. Camiña, for his part, claimed to be a “personal friend” of Leopold Kerney, and that he had £60,000 sitting in a bank in London. Contact was soon made with Eli Gallastegi by telephone and the offices of the IITC in Dublin. After a few nights in a Cork hotel, the refugees were brought to Gallastegi’s home in Gibbstown.185 The influx of Basques to Gibbstown was a diplomatic headache for neutral Ireland. As one member of Irish military intelligence (G2) surmised in a despatch to External Affairs: “In view of the political outlook of these aliens, I think it is extremely dangerous to have them at large”. Another complained that “we are saddled with the task of supervising the activities of yet one more group of suspects”.186 The new Francoist-envoy to Ireland, Juan García Ontiveros, immediately demanded details of the landing party. He would keep up a relentless campaign of harassment against the refugees during their time in Ireland.187 García Ontiveros was also keen on doing business. At the first meeting between him and de Valera, Ambrose Martin’s details were apparently passed on to the new Spanish envoy. According to Barry Whelan, García Ontiveros and Martin subsequently met to discuss commercial links between the two countries.188 Despite the initial concerns of Irish intelligence and the sabre rattling of García Ontiveros, the new Basque colony in the heart of Ireland did not engage in any significant political activities. Some agitated to join the allied cause on the continent; others applied for and were granted visas to the Americas (Canada, Chile, USA) and Britain. By September 1941, four of the party had already left the state.189 As for the Gallastegi family, a sort of unofficial Basque museum named Erresiñoleta was set up in their Gibbstown home, complete with a model Basque village containing a church, baserri (traditional Basque farmhouse) and village green. It was said to have occupied “half a large room”.

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  81 Endeavours such as Erresiñoleta and his family’s ability to communicate in Gaeilge earned Eli Gallastegi the affectionate local nickname: “Pearse of the Basque Land”.190 Eli Gallastegi would remain in Ireland until 1958. Ambrose Martin, having been hit by a car in Dublin in late 1939 and gone to France to recover from his injuries, took up residence in his Breton chateau for most of the war.191 A local Irish newspaper report from May 1941 concerning a forestry dispute on one of Martin’s properties suggests that his family did not know if he was “dead or alive”, as they had expected him to return from France after only two months. Multiple sources attesting to an extra-marital affair provide additional context.192 Intelligence reports indicate that Martin’s family home in Naul, County Dublin, was kept under regular visual surveillance during the war. The phone was also tapped. In the view of one officer: “the house appears to be a rendezvous for [illegible] of people of extreme views”. Likewise, Colonel Dan Byrne, the Irish head of military intelligence (G2), deemed Martin to be a “suspicious character”. Conflicting reports regarding the Irish-Argentinian’s political leanings probably played into such suspicions. For instance, a Garda Síochána report from July 1940 suggested that Martin “would not find it difficult to don Nazi colours”. Conversely, in another report from the same month, an intelligence officer suspected Martin of holding “communist sympathies”; as did the devoutly Catholic García Ontiveros once he learnt of Martin’s extra-marital relationship. Of final interest, Martin may have sheltered Basque refugees in Brittany during the war.193 In November 1945, Ambrose Martin wrote a letter from his Breton chateau to William O’Brien, a long-time stalwart in the Irish trade union movement. Martin was seeking O’Brien’s unspecified help for a new business venture: Business is beginning to move rather fast as regards Spain and Ireland and France and Ireland. I am leaving for Paris on Tuesday next and then I am going down to the Spanish frontier to give instructions at the frontier post to my Spanish representative as regards Irish-Spanish trade, I must meet him at the post as I cannot enter Spain. It is very annoying to me to see splendid opportunities for developing Irish trade going to waste.194 Two years earlier, on 14 December 1943, Martin had been granted a visa to enter Spain.195 Now unable to do so, perhaps the Spanish authorities had taken note of his pro-Basque sympathies. Practically all trace of the mercurial Ambrose Martin disappear from the archives post-1945. However, thanks to familial research conducted by Kyle McCreanor, we know that when Martin’s estranged wife passed away, he remarried and settled into a private life in Dublin, frequently holidaying in Brittany.196 In 1972, he applied for an Irish Military Service Pension on the strength of his “very prominent and distinguished service from 1916

82  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) onwards”. His application was rejected.197 Ambrose Martin died two years later in 1974. His long-time friend, political foil and occasional business partner Eli Gallastegi died the same year. Conclusion The Easter 1916 Rising radically altered the previous transnational framework of Basque nationalist engagement with Ireland and the Irish Question. Despite the Irish rebels’ military defeat, their moral victory—that of a small nation fighting against impossible odds—chimed with the rhetoric of an increasingly radical tendency within Basque nationalism.198 Although radical and moderate Basque nationalist analyses regarding Ireland had effectively converged by the time the CNV officially split in 1921, it was the aberriano wing that embedded a heroic and glorious narrative of the Rising and the political model of Sinn Féin into its discourse. This can be attributed to two principal factors: firstly, a logical outworking of the aberrianos’ orthodox nationalist position; and secondly, the constant utilisation by the aberriano leader Eli Gallastegi of Ireland as his international reference par excellence. From the Irish Revolutionary Period onwards, a diffuse radical Basque nationalist-­Irish republican transnational nexus existed until the end of the Spanish Civil War. While this nexus primarily manifested itself in asymmetric Irish-to-Basque media and propaganda interest, various meetings, encounters, plots and direct expressions of solidarity also occurred. Personal (micro) connections between individuals played a significant role, particularly the relationship between Eli Gallastegi and Ambrose Martin. In addition to the two men’s shared politics, the Gallastegi-Martin axis was also sustained through mutual business interests and personal circumstances. Given the almost constantly changing political circumstances in both the British-Irish (1916 Rising, War of Independence, Irish partition, Irish Civil War) and Spanish-Basque (Primo de Rivera dictatorship, Second Spanish Republic, Basque autonomy, Spanish Civil War) territorial contexts throughout this period, radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican connections and relations at an organisational (meso) level tended to be highly fragmented and infrequent. From the moment Fianna Fáil came to power in Ireland in 1932, the primary transnational frame of reference for radical Basque nationalism (aberrianismo/Jagi-Jagi) pivoted from anti-treaty disaffected republicanism (Sinn Féin and the IRA), to the Irish republicanism of Fianna Fáil and the Irish State under de Valera’s stewardship. Accordingly, when the Spanish Civil War broke out in 1936, Basque nationalists of both moderate and radical persuasions looked to de Valera’s Ireland for succour and solidarity. Unlike previous contacts and relations, these initiatives were provoked by a (macro) existential threat to Basque nationalism. In general, Basque nationalist overtures towards Fianna Fáil republicanism were a failure.

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  83 By contrast, leftist Irish republicans from the orbit of Republican Congress were keen to express solidarity with Basque nationalists in their plight. While there is evidence of potential military connections having been developed via this link, the only verifiable (and primarily indirect) republican assistance to Basque nationalists during the Spanish Civil War came in the shape of the International Brigade volunteers from Ireland who fought for the cause of the Spanish Republic.199 In the absence of any stable Basque-Irish transnational relationship via organisational structures, it is worth reflecting further on radical Basque nationalism’s engagement with Irish republicanism throughout this period. Although it is true that the 1916 Rising was the catalyst for a new radical phase in Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations, the “heroic gesture”200 of the 1916 rebels was but one of two highly relevant Irish Revolutionary Period events to Basque nationalists. Of arguably equal significance to the aberriano generation—albeit not reflected to the same extent in the literature—was the revolutionary Irish Republic established in January 1919.201 This Irish Republic not only provided vindication for the aberrianos’ radical postulates and their stance regarding the 1916 Rising (in contrast to their moderate Basque nationalist brethren), but the success of the Irish Republic in establishing itself (if only for two years) also presented an overarching social movement model of disruption that could potentially, similarly undermine the central state(s) in the Basque context across every sector of society: Sinn Féin (party-political), IRA (military), ‘Sinn Féin courts’ (justice), Na Fianna Éireann (Irish Warriors – youth section), Cumann na mBan (women), Irish Republic embassies (international diplomacy), Dáil Éireann (national assembly), and the less-political, but equally important organisations of the Gaelic League (Irish language) and Gaelic Athletic Association (Irish sports). Utilising this Irish model, leading aberrianos espoused a radical civil alternative to the Spanish State. While the events of the Irish Revolutionary Period had a galvanising impact right across the aberriano spectrum, fanning the flames of the radical Basque nationalist imagination,202 it is also true that the aberrianos’ harnessing of the Irish Mirror (the apparent demonstrative and emulative lessons for Basque nationalists) tended to be closely associated with one man: Eli Gallastegi. McCreanor has described Eli Gallastegi as a “Hibernophile extraordinaire”.203 It is difficult to argue with this assessment. It was Gallastegi who first protested against Euzkadi in the wake of that newspaper’s coverage of the executed 1916 martyrs. It was Gallastegi who, for almost two decades, ceaselessly lionised the heroes of the Irish Revolutionary Period in print whilst calling on radical Basque nationalists to follow their example.204 It was Gallastegi who, inspired by the martyrdom of Terence MacSwiney, began the first (ultimately aborted) hunger strike by a Basque nationalist in 1931.205 It was he who cited James Connolly as a means of articulating a more socially imbued understanding of aberrianismo.206 Finally, it was Gallastegi who, through a personal, political and business relationship with

84  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) Ambrose Martin, became one half of a transnational tandem around which most other contacts, meetings, talks, propaganda and plots orbited for almost two decades. These Gallastegi-centric transfers of Irish republican elements into radical Basque nationalist culture also had their limits. As McCreanor sensibly notes, many of the ostensible transfers from Irish republicanism to radical Basque nationalist culture in the wake of the Irish Revolutionary Period (e.g., propaganda, violence, cult of prisoners, martyrs, self-sacrifice) were, in fact, already partially present in the political culture of Basque nationalism prior to 1916.207 Moreover, although it is true the aberriano advocation for an Irish revolutionary model in the Basque Country “implied the use of violence” and “supported and amplified adherence to the potential strategy of violence in the Basque nationalist imagination”, as Núñez Seixas and Watson have pointed out respectively, Gallastegi himself—as far as I am aware—never openly advocated for its use in the Basque context.208 With the above points in mind, how can we surmise the fragmented post1916 radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations documented in this chapter? Centred around the impact of the Irish Revolutionary Period on radical Basque nationalism, this was a largely asymmetric nexus, which, in the absence of organisation-to-organisation relations, often lacked a clear or sophisticated diffusion. Nor was it one grounded in mutual solidarity (although there were examples). Rather, it was a fitful transnational nexus primarily underpinned by the rhetoric of heroic national ‘struggle’ in its most generic sense. Notes 1 There is an enormous body of literature published on the 1916 Rising, ranging from first-hand accounts of the week’s events to major works that place the Rising within a historical sequence of complex political changes. For a handful of examples, see: Gabriel Doherty and Dermot Keogh, 1916: The Long Revolution (Cork: Mercier Press, 2007); Diarmaid Ferriter, A Nation and not a Rabble: The Irish Revolution 1913–1923 (London: Profile Books, 2015); Fearghal McGarry, The Rising: Ireland, Easter 1916 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016). 2 Brian Hanley, “The Ireland of our ideals,” Paper delivered at ‘Proclaiming the revolution’ conference, NUI Galway, 22 January 2015. For an overview of the historiography around the Irish Revolutionary Period and its international dimensions, see: Enda Delaney and Fearghal McGarry, “Introduction: A Global History of the Irish Revolution,” Irish Historical Studies xliv (2020): 1–10. 3 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 4 “El Estado libre de Irlanda,” Aberri, 17.12.1921. 5 “Ante la revolución irlandesa. Enseñanzas católicas sobre la revolución,” Euzkadi, 27.05.1916. See also: “Ante la revolución irlandesa. Hemos faltado,” Euzkadi, 21.05.1916. 6 “Actualidad irlandesa. Sinn Féin,” Euzkadi, 09.05.1916. John Redmond’s personal condemnation of the Rising was published in English and Spanish in Euzkadi in June 1916. See: “Declaración de Redmond acerca de la Revolución en Irlanda,” Euzkadi, 02.06.1916.

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  85 7 De Pablo and Mees, Péndulo, 60; Núñez Seixas, “Ecos”; Watson, Basque Nationalism, 101. 8 Antonio Elorza, Ideologías del Nacionalismo Vasco, 1876–1937 (San Sebastián: E. Itxaropena S.A., 1978), 357; Lorenzo Espinosa, “Influencia”; Núñez Seixas, “Ecos.” 9 “¡Roger Casement! La muerte del mártir,” Bizkaitarra, 05.08.1916; “Por el alma de Casement,” Euzkadi, 07.08.1916; José María Lorenzo Espinosa, Gudari: Una pasión útil. Eli Gallastegi (1892–1974) (Tafalla: Txalaparta, 1992), 56; Núñez Seixas, “Ecos.” 10 In El Bucle Melancólico Jon Juaristi suggests that for Gallastegi “the [1916] insurrection showed that the Aranist dream of a new Arrigorriaga was not a folly”. Arrigorriaga was the setting for the first Lord of Biscay Jaun Zuria’s mythical victory over foreign invaders. In the same book, Juaristi recalls an anecdotal family story relayed to him about Eli Gallastegi and the 1916 Rising. The story contends that Eli Gallastegi attempted to raise a group of Basque volunteers to support the Easter rebels in Dublin. See: Juaristi, Bucle, 207, 232, 265. To my knowledge, there is no evidence to suggest that such an initiative took place. 11 Government of Ireland, House of Commons [HC] Debate [Deb], 5 November 1918, vol. 110 cc1962–2069, https://api.parliament.uk/historic-hansard/­ commons/1918/nov/05/government-of-ireland, accessed 28 September 2022. 12 Xosé M. Núñez Seixas, Patriotas Transnacionales: ensayos sobre nacionalismos y transferencias culturales en la Europa del siglo XX (Madrid: Cátedra, 2019), 43; Erez Manela, The Wilsonian Moment: Self-Determination and the International Origins of Anticolonial Nationalism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009); “Why Irish Revolutionaries had to go global,” www.rte.ie/­centuryireland/index. php/articles/why-irish-revolutionaries-had-to-go-global, accessed 28 September 2022. 13 “¡Gloria a Irlanda! El triunfo de los Sin-Feiners,” Bizkaitarra, 04.01.1919. 14 Flynn, Ideology, 90. 15 Although the term ‘IRA’ had been around since 1866, it only became widely used circa 1920. See: Hanley, IRA, 7. 16 Figures of 70,000 and 115,000 cited respectively in: Brian Hanley, “Very Dangerous Places: IRA Gunrunning and the Post-War Underworld,” History Ireland (March 2019): 23–26; “Review: Ireland’s War of Independence by Lorcan Collins,” www.rte.ie/culture/2019/0709/1061122-review-irelands-war-of-­ independence-by-lorcan-collins/, accessed 24 July 2021. 17 Message to the Free Nations of the World, Dáil Éireann [DE] Deb, 21 January 1919, vol. 1, https://web.archive.org/web/20070319033113/http://historicaldebates.oireachtas.ie/D/DT/D.F.O.191901210013.html; Éamon de Valera to Arthur Griffith (for Cabinet) (Dublin) (No. 3), 13 August 1919, New York, no. 21, P150/96, University College Dublin Archives [UCDA], http://difp.ie/docs/ Volume1/1919/21.htm, sites accessed 28 September 2022. 18 Daniele Conversi, The Basques, the Catalans and Spain: Alternative Routes to Nationalist Mobilization (London: Hurst & Company, 1997), 70; Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 272–73. 19 Mees, Nationalism, 18; Núñez Seixas, “Ecos,” quote on 462; Watson, Basque Nationalism, 104–7. 20 Statement No. 363 Maire Ní Bhríain (Maire O’Brien), MSP34REF59976, Military Service Pensions Collection [MSPC], Irish Military Archives [IMA]; Maire Louise O’Brien, MSP34REF59976, MSPC, IMA. 21 Dáil Éireann Report on Foreign Affairs presented by Count George Plunkett, 27 October 1919, Dublin, no. 27, DE 2/269, NAI, www.difp.ie/

86  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) docs/Volume1/1919/27.htm; Memorandum entitled ‘Ireland and Spain,’ September 1921, Madrid, no. 107, DFA ES Spain, NAI, http://difp.ie/docs/ ­ Volume1/1921/107.htm, sites accessed 28 September 2022. 22 Maire Louise O’Brien, IMA; Statement No. 363, IMA. 23 Extract from a letter from George Gavan Duffy to Robert Brennan, 11 March 1921, Rome, no. 67, DFA ES Box 33 File 232, NAI, www.difp.ie/docs/ Volume1/1921/67.htm, accessed 28 September 2022. 24 ‘Ireland and Spain,’ NAI; Eamon de Valera to Robert Brennan, 6 February 1921, Dublin, no. 59, DFA ES Box 14 File 96, NAI, www.difp.ie/docs/ Volume1/1921/59.htm, accessed 28 September 2022. Robert Brennan visited Maire O’Brien in Madrid in 1921. See: Statement No. 363, IMA. 25 ‘Ireland and Spain,’ NAI; de Valera to Brennan, NAI. 26 Statement No. 363, IMA. 27 McCreanor, “Ireland,” 30. 28 “El saludo de un patriota irlandés,” Euzkadi, 08.01.1937. For instance, see O’Mahony’s “exclusive” interview for Euzkadi with Seán Tomás Ó Ceallaigh in Paris in late 1921. “Mensaje al País Vasco,” Euzkadi, 01.12.1921. 29 Watson, Basque Nationalism, 117–20; Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 282–85. For a striking example of this change in attitude to the Irish Question, see: “La Cuestión Irlandesa,” Euzkadi, 13.08.1921. 30 Watson, Basque Nationalism, 119–20. 31 “‘A THORN IN HIS HEART’. Basque Visitor’s Sympathetic Views on Irish Question,” Freeman’s Journal, 15.05.1920. See also: “Los vascos en Irlanda,” Euzkadi, 28.05.1920. “SINN FEIN IN SPAIN. Basque Bulletin Suppressed by Governor,” Freeman’s Journal, 04.01.1919. 32 Núñez Seixas, “Ecos”; McCreanor, “Ireland”; Hanley, “Very Dangerous.” 33 Monthly Review of Revolutionary Movements in British Dominions Overseas & Foreign Countries, March 1921, no. 29, CAB/24/122, [British] National Archives [NA]. 34 Debate on Treaty, DE Deb, 21 Dec 1921, vol. T, no. 8, www.oireachtas.ie/en/ debates/debate/dail/1921-12-21/2/, accessed 18 March 2019. 35 Statement No. 363, IMA. 36 “An Irishman’s Diary on Argentina’s link to 1916,” Irish Times, 12.05.2015. 37 Cruset, Nacionalismo, 125–26. 38 Michael Kennedy, “‘Mr Blythe, I think, Hears from him Occasionally’: The Experiences of Irish Diplomats in Latin America, 1919–23,” in Irish Foreign Policy, 1919–166: From Independence to Internationalism, eds. Michael Kennedy and Joseph Morrison Skelly (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2000), 44–60. Précis of a report on Argentina by P.J. Little, 4 October 1921, Buenos Aires, no. 109, DE 5/21, NAI, www.difp.ie/docs/Volume1/1921/109.htm; Department of Foreign Affairs Report, 10 August 1921, Dublin, no. 104, DE 4/4/2, NAI, http:// difp.ie/docs/Volume1/1921/104.htm, sites accessed 20 March 2019. 39 Statement by Mr. P.J. Little, no.WS. 1769, IMA, www.bureauofmilitaryhistory. ie/reels/bmh/BMH.WS1769.pdf, accessed 20 March 2019; Cruset, Nacionalismo, 132. In January 1922, the then President of Dáil Éireann, Arthur Griffith, received a telegram from “the Basque Colony” in Buenos Aires that read: “Congratulate Ireland on winning freedom”. See: “Messages received by Mr. Griffith and Mr. Duffy,” Evening Herald, 14.01.1922. 40 Précis by P.J. Little, NAI. 41 Monthly Review of Revolutionary Movements in British Dominions Overseas & Foreign Countries, September 1920, no. 23, CAB/24/112, NA; Monthly Review of Revolutionary Movements in British Dominions Overseas & Foreign Countries, November 1920, no. 25, CAB/24/117, NA; Monthly Review of Revolutionary Movements in British Dominions Overseas and Foreign Countries, January 1921, no. 27, CAB/24/120, NA.

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  87 42 Eamon Bulfin to Éamon de Valera, 20 April 1920, Éamon de Valera Papers [EdVP], P150/735, UCDA. 43 Garda report on Ambrose Martin by Sergeant John O’Boyle, Irish-Iberian Trading Company, E.S.2/24, NAI; “Gran acontecimineto patriótico,” Aberri, 31.03.1922; McCreanor, “Ireland,” 30. 44 Cullen and McCreanor, “Dangerous.” 45 Cullen and McCreanor, “Dangerous”; “Gran acontecimiento patriótico,” Aberri, 31.03.1922; “La estancia en Bizkaya de un gran propagandista irlandés,” Aberri, 19.05.1922. 46 “A Dublin Meeting,” The Irish Independent, 06.11.1936. 47 McCreanor, “Ireland,” 33–34. 48 Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 296. 49 “Un Ejemplo. Por la Libertad y por la Patria,” Aberri, 07.04.1922. 50 “Conferencias Patrióticas,” Aberri, 07.04.1922. 51 “La estancia en Bizkaya de un gran propagandista irlandés,” Aberri, 19.05.1922. 52 “La mujer patriota,” Aberri, 15.04.1922; Leyre Arrieta Alberdi, “Emakume,” in Diccionario, eds. de Pablo et al., 203–16. 53 Draft claim of citizenship of Ambrose Victor Martin, written in O’Brien’s hand, including information of his birth, family, passport and life in Ireland and France, William O’Brien (1881–1968) Papers [WOBP], MS13,961/3/111, National Library of Ireland [NLI]. 54 “El Estado libre de Irlanda,” Aberri, 17.12.1921. 55 McCreanor, “Ireland,” 40–41. 56 On Gallastegi and Sinn Féin, see: Núñez Seixas, “Ecos,” specifically 463. 57 Michael Hopkinson, “The Guerrilla Phase and the End of the Civil War,” in Atlas, ed. Crowley et al., 703–15. 58 Cited in: Ronan Fanning, Éamon De Valera: A Will to Power (London: Faber & Faber, 2015), 142. 59 Cited in: Raymond Carr, Modern Spain, 1875–1980 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 98. 60 De Pablo and Mees, Péndulo, 97–99. 61 Proinsias Mac Fhionnghaile, Laurence Ginnell: Father of the Irish Republican Movement (Donegal: LorcArt Publishing, 2015), 87–90. 62 “En Euzkadi sobran hombres,” Aberri, 06.06.1923; McCreanor, “Ireland,” 44. See also: Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 298, 322. 63 “A Dublin Meeting,” The Irish Independent, 06.11.1936. 64 “De Valera in America,” www.rte.ie/centuryireland/index.php/articles/de-valerain-america, accessed 28 September 2022. 65 Elías Gallastegi, Por La Libertad Vasca (Bilbao: Talleres Tipográficos E. Verde, 1933), 117–22. 66 McCreanor, “Ireland,” 47. 67 Garda report, NAI. 68 Vibrant (pseud. Daniel Cardona), Res de nou al Pirineu (Barcelona: Nosaltres Sols! 1933) 38, 71. Vibrant reference cited in: McCreanor, “Ireland,” 45. See also: De Pablo, et al., Péndulo, 174, 321 (footnote 34). 69 De Pablo, et al., Péndulo, 174–75. 70 Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 347–48. 71 “Gallastegui Uriarte, Elías,” Auñamendi Eusko Entzikloedia, http:// aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/gallastegui-uriarte-elias/ar-55939/, accessed 17 February 2019. 72 De Pablo, et al., Péndulo, 175–77. 73 Núñez Seixas, “Mito.” 74 Pere Soler Parício, “Irlanda y la guerra civil Española. Nuevas perspectivas de estudio” (PhD diss., Universitat de Barcelona, 2013), 51–55.

88  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) 75 USFA to Leopold Kerney, March 1925, Leopold H Kerney Collection [LHKC], Contemporary Document 260/4/1–6, IMA. For a list of attendees, see: Inis Fáil: Bulletin de la Ligue pour l’Indépendance de l’Irlande, no. 1, April 1925, Erskine Childers Papers, MS 48,092/2, NLI. 76 Blessed be my exile…, Fons 264 [Macià], 1–264-T-611, Arxiu Nacional de Catalunya [ANdeC]; Soler Parício, “Irlanda,” 53. 77 According to Kerney’s biographer, Barry Whelan, the Paris-based Kerney usually stayed in contact with de Valera via “Art Ó Briain, the anti-treaty representative in Britain, who then sent [communications] to another covering address in Ireland. To prevent detection, reports needed to be small and appear innocuous in the post”. See: Barry Whelan, Ireland’s Revolutionary Diplomat: A Biography of Leopold Kerney (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2019), 60. 78 USFA to Leopold Kerney, Undated, LHKC, Contemporary Document 260/4/1– 6, IMA. 79 Leopold Kerney to USFA, 6 May 1925, LHKC, Contemporary Document 260/4/1–6, IMA. 80 USFA to Leopold Kerney, 3 June 1925, LHKC, Contemporary Document 260/4/1–6, IMA. 81 Kerney to USFA, 6 May 1925, IMA. 82 Leopold Kerney to Department of External Affairs, 12 November 1937, Manufacture of bicycles in Ireland by Mr. Ambrose Martin and group of Spanish experts, 1937, 115/236, NAI. 83 Leopold Kerney to USFA, 24 June 1925, LHKC, Contemporary Document 260/4/1–6, IMA. 84 Whelan, Diplomat, 71. 85 USFA to Leopold Kerney, 8 July 1925, LHKC, Contemporary Document 260/4/1–6, IMA. 86 Leopold Kerney to USFA, 3 July 1925, LHKC, Contemporary Document 260/4/1–6, IMA. 87 USFA to Leopold Kerney, 10 July 1925, LHKC, Contemporary Document 260/4/1–6, IMA. 88 USFA to Leopold Kerney, 17 July 1925, LHKC, Contemporary Document 260/4/1–6, IMA. 89 Leopold Kerney to USFA, 19 July 1925, LHKC, Contemporary Document 260/4/1–6, IMA. 90 Letters cited in: Soler Parício, “Irlanda,” 57–58. 91 Pasaporte de Cosme de Orrantia, Fons 264 [Macià], 1–264-T-610, ANdeC. 92 Soler Parício, “Irlanda,” 55. 93 Como habla un soldado, Fons 264 [Macià], 1–264-T-602, ANdeC; Espionaje, Fons 264 [Macià], 1–264-T-605, ANdeC; La legalidad del Estado libre, Fons 264 [Macià], 1–264-T-606, ANdeC; Los medios de transporte, Fons 264 [Macià], 1–264-T-607, ANdeC. 94 De Pablo, et al., Péndulo, 177–78. 95 Letter cited in: Soler Parício, “Irlanda,” 56. 96 Whelan, Diplomat, 76–77. The IRA had already severed its relationship with Sinn Féin in 1925. See: Agnès Maillot, New Sinn Féin: Irish Republicanism in the Twenty-first Century (London and New York: Routledge, 2005), 13. 97 For a comprehensive history of Sinn Féin from the 1926 split until the Provisional-­ Official split of 1969/1970 (see Chapter 5), see: Agnès Maillot, In the Shadow of History: Sinn Féin, 1926–70 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2015). “Ghost-like” quote on 37. See also: Ó Broin, Sinn Féin, 195–97. 98 De Pablo, et al., Péndulo, 178; McCreanor, “Ireland,” 48; James Peter McHugh, “Voices of the rearguard: a study of An Phoblacht: Irish Republican thought in the post-revolutionary era, 1923–1937” (MA thesis, University College Dublin,

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  89 1983). For a collection of Gallastegi’s published writings, many of which relate to Ireland, see: Gallastegi, Libertad Vasca. 99 José Luis de la Granja, “Una autocrítica del Nacionalismo Vasco tras la dictadura de Primo de Rivera: El manifiesto del comité pro-resurgimiento vasco (1930),” Bilduma, no. 3 (1989): 185–209. The political line of Acción Nacionalista Vasca has been categorised by José Luis de la Granja Sainz as “heterodox”. See: José Luis de la Granja Sainz, El Nacionalismo Vasco: Un Siglo de Historia (Madrid: Tecnos, 1995), 19–20. See also: José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Nacionalismo y II República en el País Vasco (Madrid: Siglo, 2008); José Luis de la Granja and Jesús Casquete, “Aberri Eguna,” in Diccionario, eds. de Pablo et al., 33–56. 100 Lorenzo Espinosa, “Influencia”; Santiago de Pablo, “Gallastegui, Eli,” in Diccionario, eds. de Pablo et al., 395–406; Juaristi, Bucle, 207–10; de Pablo, Patria Soñada, 199. 101 Tim Pat Coogan, Ireland in the Twentieth Century (London: Arrow Books, 2004), 177–78. 102 Jason Knirck, “Irish Revolution and World History: Nation, Race, and Civilization in the Rhetoric of the Irish Revolutionary Generation,” Éire-Ireland 52, nos. 3 & 4 (Fall/Winter 2017): 157–89; Barry McLoughlin and Emmet O’Connor, In Spanish Trenches: The Minds and Deeds of the Irish who Fought for the Republic in the Spanish Civil War (Dublin: UCD Press, 2020), 9; O’Halpin, “Geopolitics,” quote on 88. 1 03 Extract from Free State Election News, as cited in Knirck, “Revolution,” 184. 04 Coogan, Ireland, 185–87. 1 05 Fearghal McGarry, Irish Politics and the Spanish Civil War (Cork: Cork Univer1 sity Press, 1999), 6. 06 “Basque-Irish handball,” Irish Press, 23.11.1931. 1 107 Cited in: Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 415–16. 108 Núñez Seixas, “Ecos”; “A Little Ireland,” Irish Press, 18.10.1932. 109 Handwritten message on book presented to Cumann na mBan on behalf of Emakume Abertzale Batza, Eithne Coyle Papers, P61/8, UCDA. 110 “Young Ireland at Reception,” Irish Press, 29.06.1932. Notable figures at this meeting included Maurice Twomey, Frank Ryan, Peadar O’Donnell, Sean MacBride, George Gilmore and Sean Russell. 111 “Juventud Vasca de Bilbao,” Euzkadi, 08.06.1932. For more on the Basque delegation’s 1932 trip to Ireland, see: McCreanor, “Ireland, the Basques.” 112 Martin’s second tour began on 9 June in Bilbao at a Juventud Vasca event. His final talk seems to have taken place in the Batzokija of Gernika on 16 July. See: “Juventud Vasca de Bilbao,” Euzkadi, 08.06.1932; “Actos a Celebrar,” Euzkadi, 14.07.1932 113 “Martin O’Daly, en Algorta. La conferencia de anoche,” Euzkadi, 16.06.1932. 114 “El Separatista Irreductible,” Euzkadi, 21.02.1933. 115 “¿De Valera o Cosgrave?” Tierra Vasca, 27.01.1933. 116 “El triunfo de los grandes ideales,” Jagi-Jagi, 11.02.1933. 117 Lorenzo Espinosa, “Influencia.” 118 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 19 Coogan, IRA, 191–201; Henry Patterson, The Politics of Illusion: A Political 1 History of the IRA, 2nd ed. (London: Serif, 1997), 81; “Garda assassinations and IRA executions during the Emergency,” Irish Times, 08.05.2017. 120 “In 1923 Martin disappeared [from Ireland] and was not seen in Kilbeggan [where his estranged wife was living] until 1932”. Quote from: Garda report, NAI. 121 Michael Kennedy, “Leopold Kerney and Irish-Spanish diplomatic relations, 1935–6,” in Spanish–Irish Relations through the Ages, eds. Declan M. Downey

90  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) and Julio Crespo MacLennan (Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2008), 189–211; Lorenzo Espinosa, Gudari, 241. 22 “Basque-Irish Wedding,” Irish Examiner, 09.07.1936; Irish Embassy in Paris to 1 Department of External Affairs, 24 August 1937, Visa Applications of (1). Eli Gallastegui and (2) Cosme Orramantia Elorrieta. Spanish Nationals, 3/102/176, NAI. 123 Leopold Kerney to Department of External Affairs, 6 December 1937, Manufacture of bicycles in Ireland by Mr. Ambrose Martin and group of Spanish experts, 1937, 115/236, NAI; Lorenzo Espinosa, Gudari, 127. 124 Ambrose Martin to Leopold Kerney, 13 September 1935, Irish-Iberian Trading Company, E.S.2/24, NAI. Martin visited Kerney again in Madrid in November 1935, having come directly from Bilbao. See: Leopold Kerney to the Department of External Affairs, 6 November 1935, Irish-Iberian Trading Company, E.S.2/24, NAI. See also: Whelan, Diplomat, 100–1. 125 Garda report, NAI; Ambrose Martin to Leopold Kerney, 14 December 1933, Irish Iberian-Trading Company, E.S.2/24, NAI. 126 “Mr. Lemass’s Call to Electors,” The Irish Press, 06.06.1936; Ambrose Martin, G2/0267, IMA; Garda report, NAI. This conclusion is partially based on personal correspondence with Kyle McCreanor. 127 For more on the ‘Two Spains’, see: Mees, Contention, 18–19. 28 Watson, Modern, 283; Jesús Valencia López de Dicastillo, La Ternura de Los 1 Pueblos: Euskal Herria Internacionalista (Navarra: Txalaparta, 2011), 22. 129 Leyre Arrieta Alberdi, “Dilemas del nacionalismo vasco en la Guerra Civil,” in Desde la capital de la República: Nuevas perspectivas y estudios sobre la Guerra Civil española, eds. Sergio Valero Gómez and Marta García Carrión (Valencia: Publicacions de la Universitat de València, 2018), 171–85; Mees, Contention, 77. 130 Leyre Arrieta Alberdi, “Euzkadi Mendigoizale Batza (EMB),” in El Laberinto de la Representación. Partidos y Culturas Políticas en el País Vasco y Navarra (1875–2020), coord. Coro Rubio Pobes (Madrid: Tecnos, 2021), 283–85; de Pablo, “Gallastegui”; Antonio Elorza, “Introducción. Vascos guerreros,” in La Historia de ETA, coord. Antonio Elorza, José María Garmendia, Gurutz Jáuregui, and Florencio Domínguez Iribarren (Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 2000), 13–75. 131 For Irish involvement in the Spanish Civil War and the political dynamics of the conflict in Ireland, see: McGarry, Spanish; McLoughlin and O’Connor, Trenches; Robert Stradling, The Irish and the Spanish Civil War, 1936–1939: Crusades in Conflict (Manchester: Mandolin, 1999). For the Irish Independent’s pro-Franco stance, see: “‘Faith or Antichrist’—An Irishman’s Diary on Irish Newspapers and Franco,” Irish Times, 05.01.2018. 132 “Irish Brigade for Spain,” Irish Independent, 10.08.1936. 33 Seán Cronin, Frank Ryan: The Search for The Republic (Dublin: Repsol Publish1 ing, 1980), 81. Aguirre seemingly visited Ireland in the early 1930s. Cited in: Dermot Keogh, Ireland and Europe, 1919–1948 (Dublin: Gill and MacMillan, 1988), 79. 134 “Rare Republican Congress letter (September 1936),” https://comeheretome. com/2016/06/01/rare-republican-congress-internal-letter-september-1936/, accessed 1 May 2020. 135 Cited in: Cronin, Ryan, 78–79. 136 Daniel de Mendialdua to José Antonio Aguirre, 31 October 1936, Paris, Correspondencia mantenida entre los años 1936 y 1937 por el Gobierno de Euzkadi con responsables de la Delegación de París. Secretaría General (Bilbao, Barcelona, París), Secretaría, Legajo: 26, Número legajo: 01, Archivo Histórico de Euskadi [AHE]. For Gilmore’s flight taking off from Paris, see: McLoughlin and

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  91 O’Connor, Trenches, 34. For de Mendiaulda’s wartime involvement in obtaining arms, see: Soler Parício, “Guerra Civil” (footnote 36). 37 McGarry, Spanish, 7. 1 138 As reported in: “Republicans criticise Dublin daily newspaper,” Irish Press, 06.11.1936. 139 As reported in: “The War in Spain,” Irish Press, 04.12.1936. 1 40 “Republicans,” Irish Press, 06.11.1936. 141 Iñaki Anasagasti and Koldo San Sebastián, Nuestro Hombre en Bilbao (Madrid: Catarata, 2016), 18; “Republicans,” Irish Press, 06.11.1936; McGarry, Spanish, 95; “Otros ‘mártires’ de la Guerra Civil,” El País, 06.05.2007. “Azuriaguerra” almost certainly refers to Juan de Ajuriaguerra, the head of the PNV’s wartime propaganda and information services and president of the party’s Bizkai Buru Batzar (Biscay Executive Council). 142 “Mr. Belton off to Spain,” Irish Independent, 07.11.1936. Incidentally, Patrick Belton described Ambrose Martin as “one of the most pronounced and prominent Communists in this country”. He also claimed that the IITC was a front for republican Spain. Cited in: Daniel Leach, Fugitive Ireland: European Minority Nationalists and Irish Political Asylum, 1937–2008 (Portland: Four Courts Press, 2009), 57. 143 “Trip to Spain stated to have three-fold object,” Irish Press, 07.11.1936. 44 McGarry, Spanish, 17, 24–29. 1 145 “El mal irlandés,” Euzkadi, 28.08.1936. 146 Garda report, NAI. 47 “Spain-Euzkadi,” Irish Press, 21.01.1937. Reproduced article in The National 1 Student by Ramón Laborda and titled: “Euzkadi in Ireland. Rebellion in Spain and the Basque Country,” Euzko-Deya. 31.03.1937. See: Visa facilities for Father Ramon Laborda, a Basque (Spanish) Priest, DFA/3/102/43, NAI. 148 For examples, see: “The truth about the Basques,” Irish Independent, 07.01.1937; “The truth about the Basques,” Irish Independent, 21.01.1937; “Spain and the Basques,” Irish Press, 25.01.1937; “Spain and the Basques,” Irish Press, 26.01.1937; “Spain and the Basques,” Irish Press, 29.01.1937; “Spain and the Basques,” Irish Press, 01.02.1937. 149 “Aims of the Basque nationalists,” Irish Press, 18.01.1937. 150 “Basque Government’s Statement,” The Liberator (Kerry), 26.01.1937. 151 Telegram sent by Lezo de Urreiztieta, 10 January 1937, Paris; Telegram by Liega, 12 January 1937, Personal correspondence with Santiago de Pablo (text of telegrams). 152 Ibid. For information on Lezo and his extraordinary life, see: Eugenio Ibarzabal, “Lezo de Urreiztieta, un aberriano,” Muga, no. 4 (March 1980): 15–16. 53 McGarry, Spanish, 100. 1 154 “Los exiliados y otros problemas,” www.euskalmemoriadigitala.eus/ bitstream/10357/25682/1/206822.pdf, accessed 14 May 2019; Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 655. 155 McCreanor, “Ireland,” 80. 156 Mervyn O’Driscoll and Dermot Keogh, “Ireland’s military engagement in Spain and Hispano-Irish military cooperation in the twentieth and twenty first centuries,” International Review of Military History, no. 92 (2014): 135–93, quotes on 164, 176. 157 Kathleen O’Connell to J.P. Walshe, 13 May 1937, General and Confidential Reports from St. Jean de Luz, DFA 3/119/17A, NAI; “The reception of Basque refugees in 1937 showed Britain at its best and worst,” The Guardian, 22.05.2017; “Escaping the horror of Guernica—An Irishman’s Diary on Basque Child Refugees in 1937,” Irish Times, 25.04.2017.

92  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) 58 “Basque Point of View,” Irish Times, 15.06.1937. 1 159 Paddy Woodworth, Dirty War, Clean Hands: ETA, the GAL and Spanish Democracy (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2001), 30. 160 Leach, Fugitive, 57–58. 161 For examples of this criticism, see: De Pablo, “Gallastegui”; Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla, “De Aberri a ETA por Venezuela: Rupturas y continuidades en el nacionalismo vasco radical (1921–1977),” Bulletin d’Historie Contemporaine de l’Espagne, no. 51 (2017): 219–64. For a defence of Gallastegi, see: Lorenzo Espinosa, Gudari, 234–38. 162 McGarry, Spanish, 223; Soler Parício, “Guerra Civil.” 163 Michael Lennon to Chomin Epalza, 29 August 1938, London, Archivo Histórico del Gobierno Vasco, Fondo del Departamento de Presidencia, Secretaría General (Bilbao, Barcelona, París), Secretaría, Legajo: 52, Número legajo: 03, AHE. An Irish governess, Bridget Boland, was murdered in Bilbao on 16 June 1937 along with the family she worked for. See: Extracts from the annual report from Leopold H. Kerney to Joseph P. Walshe (S.J. 19/5), 2 May 1938, No. 180  DFA 119/48, NAI; “Irish in Spanish Civil War – Non Combatants,” http://irelandscw. com/docs-NonCom.htm, accessed 21 July 2019. 164 Untitled précis containing the sub-headings ‘Irlanda’ and ‘Inglaterra’, Archivo Histórico del Gobierno Vasco, Fondo del Departamento de Presidencia, Secretaría General (Bilbao, Barcelona, París), Secretaría, Legajo: 52, Número legajo: 03, AHE. Underline for stress in original. 165 Ibid. 166 Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 603–4. 167 José María Izaurieta to Pedro de Basaldú, 13 September 1938, Paris; José María Izaurieta to Pedro de Basaldú, 15 September 1938, Geneva; Franisco de Javier de Landáburu to Pedro de Basaldú, 17 September 1938, Geneva, Personal correspondence with Santiago de Pablo (text of letters). De Valera and Aguirre had apparently been very close to holding a meeting in September 1935, but the meeting fell through due to a problem of synchronising their agendas. Cited in: Ugalde Zubiri, Acción Exterior, 416. 168 Extract from a speech given by Eamon de Valera at the Eighteenth Ordinary Session of the League of Nations, No. 93  P150/2807, UCDA, www.difp. ie/docs/1937/Address-to-the-18th-Assembly-League-of-Nations/2239.htm, ­accessed 14 May 2019. 169 O’Driscoll and Keogh, “Hispano-Irish,” quote on 179; McGarry, Spanish, 48, 56–58. 170 Iñaki Anasagasti, Jean Claude Larronde, and Koldo San Sebastián, Los Años Oscuros: El Nacionalismo Vasco en la Posguerra 1937–1946 (Irun: Alberdania, 2019), 424–25. 171 Eamonn Martin, “Brendan Behan’s Quare World,” in Brendan Behan: Interviews and Recollections, vol. II, ed., E.H. Mikhail (Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1982), 200–4. Many thanks to Kyle McCreanor for alerting me to this source. 172 Extracts from the annual report from Leopold H. Kerney to Joseph P. Walshe (S.J. 19/5), 2 May 1938, DFA 119/48, NAI; Sam McGrath, “The story of Jack Prendergast: The only known Irish soldier of the Basque army,” in ‘Gernika Then and Now: 80 years of Basque-Irish anti-fascist struggles’ (Dublin: Gernika 80 Committee, 2017), 28–29. 173 For the best account of O’Duffy and his Irish brigades in Spain, see: Fearghal McGarry, Eoin O’Duffy: A Self-Made Hero (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 292–315. 174 Eoin O’Duffy, Crusade in Spain (Clonskeagh: Browne and Nolan, 1938), 195–98.

Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45)  93 175 Jean-Claude Larronde, Luis Arana Goiri 1862–1951: Historia del Nacionalismo Vasco (Bilbao: Archivo del Nacionalismo Vasco—Abertzaletasunaren Agiritegia [ANV-AA], 2010), 437–41. For details of Arana’s “descabellado” (headless) plan, see: De la Granja Sainz, Nacionalismo Vasco, 122–23. 176 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 177 Larronde, Arana, 437–41, 452 (footnote 48). One of Leopold Kerney’s brothers, Arnold, may well have managed the Kerlut estate in Brittany. See: Whelan, Diplomat, 13; Personal correspondence with Barry Whelan. 178 For an authoritative account, see: Paul Preston, The Spanish Holocaust: Inquisition and Extermination in Twentieth-Century Spain (London: Harper Press, 2012). 179 For the relevant reports, see: Barry Whelan, “Ireland and Spain, 1939–55: Cultural, Economic and Political Relations from Neutrality in the Second World War to Joint Membership of the United Nations” (PhD diss., National University of Ireland Maynooth, 2012), 104–6, 109–10, 117–18, 200–8. 180 Fanning, De Valera, 184. 181 Núñez Seixas, “Ecos,” quote on 471. 182 Whelan, “1939–55,” 118–19. 183 Arrival of Spanish Refugees at Cóbh. Report by Superintendent J.J. Murphy to Commissioner C (3), 4 July 1940, Illegal landing of a party of Basque refugees at Cóbh, 202/946, NAI. Another report names the boat as Delange. See: Report by D. O’Coiléain, 4 July 1940, Illegal landing of a party of Basque refugees at Cóbh, 202/946, NAI. 184 Arrival of Spanish Refugees, NAI. 185 Arrival of Spanish Refugees, NAI; Memo regarding a party of Aliens who landed at Cóbh, 3.7.’40, Illegal landing of a party of Basque refugees at Cóbh, 202/946, NAI. 186 G2 Branch to J.P. Walshe, 13 July 1940, Illegal landing of a party of Basque refugees at Cóbh, 202/946, NAI; Memo regarding a party of Aliens, NAI. 187 Barry Whelan, “The experience of Basque dissidents in Ireland during the Second World War,” International Journal of Iberian Studies 26, no. 3 (2013): 201–10. 188 Whelan, “1939–55,” 39. 189 Letter to Foreign Affairs, 30 July 1946, Illegal landing of a party of Basque refugees at Cóbh, 202/946, NAI; Whelan, “Basque dissidents.” 190 “P.C.’S Column,” Drogheda Independent, 23.10.1948; Lorenzo Espinosa, Gudari, 241–42; “Biggest effort in Eire,” Meath Chronicle, 16.12.1944. 191 Letter to Leopold Kerney, 8 December 1939, Irish-Iberian Trading Company, ES.2/24, NAI. 192 “Naul trees cut,” Drogheda Independent, 31.05.1941; Garda report, NAI; Ambrose Martin, G2/0267, IMA; Whelan, “Basque dissidents.” 193 Ambrose Martin, G2/0267, IMA; Whelan, “Basque dissidents”; McCreanor, “Ireland,” 94. 194 Ambrose V. Martin to William O’Brien, 17 November 1945, WOBP, MS 13, 961/3/9, NLI. 195 Nota Verbal. Ministerio De Asuntos Exteriores a la Legación de Irlanda Madrid, 14 December 1943, Irish-Iberian Trading Company, E.S.2/24, NAI. 196 Personal correspondence with Kyle McCreanor. 197 Incidentally, another Ambrose Martin, from Wexford, participated in the 1916 Rising and was later deported to Frongoch Camp in Wales. He too had an application for a military pension rejected. When the Irish-Argentinian Ambrose Martin applied in 1972, the Irish Defence Forces mistook him as the Wexford applicant. Digital files of both applications are available under the same

94  Fragments of a Radical Nexus (1916–45) reference code. See: Ambrose Martin, MSP34REF28286, MSPC, IMA. See also: Sean O’Mahony, Frongoch: University of Revolution (Dublin: FDR Teoranta, 1987), 215. 1 98 Watson, Basque Nationalism, 92. 199 As McGarry notes, personal, economic and social factors must be considered alongside solidarity with the Spanish Republic when assessing the Irish volunteers’ motivations. See: McGarry, Spanish, 49–52, 96. 200 Núñez Seixas, “Ecos,” quote on 451. 201 This heavily lopsided concentration on the 1916 Rising, as opposed to the arguably far more important December 1918 election, is also prevalent in Irish historiography and Irish political discourse more generally. See: Brian Hanley, “Who fears to speak of 1916?” History Ireland (March–April 2015): 10–11. 202 Lorenzo Espinosa, “Influencia.” 03 McCreanor, “Ireland,” 68. 2 204 “El Estado libre de Irlanda,” Aberri, 17.12.1921; Gallastegi, Libertad Vasca, 15. Lorenzo Espinosa estimates that Gallastegi penned at least 30 prominent articles on Ireland. See: Lorenzo Espinosa, “Influencia.” 05 De Pablo, Patria Soñada, 151; Lorenzo Espinosa, Gudari, 192. 2 206 De Pablo and Mees, Péndulo, 126; Diego Muro, Ethnicity and Violence: The Case of Radical Basque Nationalism (London and New York: Routledge, 2008), 75. 207 McCreanor, “Ireland,” 37. 208 Núñez Seixas, “Ecos,” quote on 461; Watson, Basque Nationalism, 123.

4 ‘New Men who Today Act with New Ideas’ Towards a New Cycle of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations (1946–69)

In September 1953, Éamon de Valera took a break from the stresses and strains of his second stint as Taoiseach of Ireland. Having flown into Paris via London, the devoutly Catholic de Valera began an overland trip to the Pyrenean pilgrimage town of Lourdes, accompanied by family members. The final destination for de Valera was the Portuguese city of Fatima, famed for its apparitions of the Virgin Mary. Before his departure, it was decided to break up de Valera’s arduous journey across the Pyrenees and northern Spain. To this end, Leo McCauley, the Irish Ambassador to Spain, arranged a four-day sojourn in the Basque seaside town of Zarautz. Despite wanting to keep the trip as low-key and “unofficial” as possible, de Valera’s visit to Zarautz was leaked to the Spanish media shortly before his arrival, with a major feature subsequently published in the illustrated weekly FOCO. Across six pages, FOCO lauded de Valera as an Irish “national hero”, of great “tenacity”, “political skill”, “fighting personality”, and possessing a “conquistador’s soul”—the latter in reference to his father’s apparent Spanish origins. In short, de Valera was presented, akin to Spain’s Francisco Franco, as a “sober” and “serious” servant to a proud and Catholic nation.1 A similar profile of the Irish Taoiseach published in a Guardia Civil (Civil Guard) magazine earlier that year evoked the same de Valera-Franco parallel: A Catholic revival is underway today. Three statesmen—de Valera, [António de Oliveira] Salazar, Franco—are leading Christian and social orthodox reform in their nations, and in other countries the still hesitant hope of an awakening in the face of red barbarism is emerging. Despite de Valera carrying “our blood”, he was said to be “less known than he should be by many Spaniards”.2 While Franco and de Valera’s politics were mutually guided, or ostensibly so, by firm Catholic convictions, there was a glaring flaw in such IrishSpanish equivalences: the Irish State was underpinned by a parliamentary democracy; Spain (and Portugal under Salazar), by contrast, was under the jackboot of a dictatorial regime. Nonetheless, at the time of de Valera’s visit, DOI: 10.4324/9781003368045-4

96  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) relations between the two countries were warm. Similarly denied entry to the UN after World War II, Spain and Ireland signed a commercial agreement in 1947, followed by a trade pact in 1951.3 In Zarautz, de Valera stayed at a hotel owned by General Luis Kirkpatrick y O’Donnell, a “descendant of the Wild Geese” and Vice-President of Spain’s National Tribunal of Political Responsibilities—a body that retrospectively persecuted those who had defended the Spanish Republic. Coinciding with the annual fiestas, “many cheers were given to Spain and Ireland, to Catholicism and to Franco” as de Valera mingled with locals. De Valera also visited the nearby Jesuit monastery of Loiola, where he was accompanied by the Spanish Minister for Foreign Affairs, Alberto Martín Artajo.4 Photographs taken for the Spanish press and friendly diplomatic relations reaffirmed, de Valera’s genteel stay in Zarautz belied the barely contained, repressed frustrations of Basque nationalists and Spanish democrats more generally under the dictatorship. In the Basque Country, two massive workers’ strikes in 1947 and 1951 had briefly raised the prospect of sustained resistance. Both had been mercilessly crushed within a matter of weeks.5 Meanwhile, on the political front, the Basque Government-in-exile’s “great gamble” in placing its hopes in the political isolation of Francoist Spain and the dictator’s fall had been scuppered by the gradual normalisation of relations between Spain and the Western Allies in the emerging Cold War era.6 On the final day of his stay in Zarautz, just before he departed for Portugal, a piece of paper was covertly smuggled to de Valera. Written in Spanish and headed “Euskadi”, the note was signed off by a group calling itself “Basque patriots of Zarautz”. Unlikely bedfellows to the Spanish national press and Franco’s Guardia Civil apologists, the note written by the Basque patriots of Zarautz similarly sought to invoke de Valera and his revolutionary ­generation—only, in this instance, not in support of the regime, but against it. Zarautz, 10 September 1953 Mr. Eamond [sic] de Valera. Prime Minister and Head of Government. IRELAND. Honourable Sir.: Basque patriots of Zarautz, in the name of all the good patriots of Euskadi, salute the noble Martyr Nation of Ireland, in the person of its most worthy Prime Minister Eamond [sic] de Valera, who with tenacity and political skill knew how to achieve the Independence of his Nation. And stimulated by his example, we promise the greatest efforts and even blood, if necessary, to achieve the Independence of our beloved Fatherland, vilely oppressed by the tyranny of Franco’s dictatorship. Oppressed Euskadi salutes Free Ireland and all Basques wish to express our feelings of admiration and veneration for the forger of Irish Independence.

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  97 ONGI ETORRIA EUSKADI´RA [WELCOME TO THE BASQUE COUNTRY] Basque patriots of Zarautz.7 The Basque patriots of Zarautz was not the only group intent on liberating ‘Oppressed Euskadi’. Founded by a dozen or so students interested in Basque culture and history at the University of Deusto (Bilbao) across the academic year of 1951/1952, Ekin, meaning “to act” or “to do something” in Euskara, would eventually spawn ETA.8 Akin to local groups such as the Basque patriots of Zarautz, Ekin (and in time, ETA) would look to draw on the Irish Revolutionary Period as a galvanising reference. In the case of Ekin-ETA, Ireland would also serve as a key international reference in their search for a “model of modern resistance” (as quoted in ETA’s Libro Blanco. See ‘ETA and el Libro Blanco’ below). In addition to the core research issue at hand (radical Basque nationalistIrish republican relations), this chapter shall also illustrate how contemporary forms of Irish republicanism and radical Basque nationalism evolved during a transitional phase in the 1950s and 1960s towards their post-1968/1969 manifestations, and how broader international currents and external case references very much conditioned this transition. Models of Modern Resistance Completely alone, without any support, without any help, they are approaching the Basque problem. They all know that it is necessary to do ‘something’. None of them know either the ‘what’ or the ‘how’. They had to start from zero.9 (José Antonio Etxebarrieta, ETA militant in the 1960s) Ekin’s early members tended to come from middle-class, PNV-oriented nationalist backgrounds. Unopposed to the Basque Government-in-exile, Ekin, nonetheless, had little or no faith in the PNV’s post-war strategy. Having no clear plan of its own, however, Ekin was, in organisational terms, starting from “zero”. As its name provoked, the group’s initial propulsion was to simply “act”—to do something. That something involved members immersing themselves in whatever political material they could get their hands on before reporting back to the rest of the group via an internal newsletter named Ekin, from which “los de Ekin” (the ones from Ekin) would eventually assume their name. This was risky business. Dissent in Francoist Spain, particularly in the officially “traitorous” provinces of Biscay and Gipuzkoa, was usually met with brutal repression. Indeed, several of Ekin’s (and later ETA’s) founding members had previously been arrested, jailed or exiled due to their involvement in the Euzko Ikasle Alkartasuna (Society of Basque Students). Chastened by this experience, Ekin would seek to operate from the underground, prioritising its clandestine nature and security.10

98  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) These considerations led to Ekin’s first engagement with the Irish case and its republican tradition. A set of ‘Normas Generales’ (General Rules), from discreteness while talking on the telephone, self-censorship and concealment of literature to discipline, punctuality and suspicion of strangers, were gleaned from a document titled ‘History of Sinn Féin’, written by (or at least credited to) one ‘J. Erskino’.11 In this sense, the Irish revolutionary experience served to orient Ekin to the “ABC[s]” of being a clandestine organisation. Other themes, such as Euskara, the foruak and European federalism, were synthesised by the fledgling group and published in a series of cuadernos (notebooks).12 Thus, from an initial urge to “act”, within its first few years, the embryonic cells of Ekin (one in Biscay; one in Gipuzkoa) had put together a body of work that would inform the group’s ideological corpus and indicate how it sought to address the Basque Country’s ills. Julen (or Iulen) Madariaga, one of Ekin’s (and later ETA’s) founding members, recalls how he drew up a dossier on three international case studies he deemed pertinent to the Basque Country: Ekin-ETA, we began by preparing ourselves [...] in the history of our case [...] But immediately, we realised that it was not only convenient, but even necessary to have and take examples from other nations, from other cases of [national] recovery or obtention. In our case it was the recovery of national independence [...] In this self-training, we organised ourselves, we went out, we distributed topics. There were eight or ten comrades approximately, and we approved eight to ten topics more or less [...] to be distributed among the ten or 12 comrades [...] and it was for me to compare the case of Euskal Herria with other historical cases. So, I chose two or three cases that were quite strong historically. They were Israel, which at that time had nothing to do with Israel now. On the contrary, Israel at that time was very interesting because it was fighting against the British Empire [...] And then, besides Israel, I chose Tunisia. There were elements, certain elements that I knew about the Tunisian case. And the rest, logically I informed myself by reading and studying things. And the third case: the Irish.13 In compiling his triad of case studies, Madariaga essentially sought to extrapolate and apply lessons to the Basque context. An edited version of Madariaga’s research would also later appear in ETA’s 1960 text Libro Blanco (White Book). Considered to be ETA’s “first ideological statement”,14 lessons gleaned from Madariaga’s Irish case study in Libro Blanco shall be discussed later in this chapter. Another topic of discussion during Ekin’s early series of charlas (talks) was the plight of Euskara. As we have seen, the reciprocal interest between advocates of the Basque and Irish languages had been an occasional feature of the pre-1945 nexus. In the post-war context of Ekin’s (and later

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  99 ETA’s) ideological development, comparisons with the Irish language would take on a new dynamic. As Cameron Watson discusses at length in Basque Nationalism and Political Violence, many of Ekin and ETA’s founders were heavily influenced by post-war philosophical trends that effectively saw in language the primary vehicle of existence itself.15 If Basque ‘essence’, or ‘Basqueness’, was defined through Euskara, for Ekin-ETA’s generation of ethno-linguistic nationalists the Basque nation would effectively disappear if Euskara were allowed to die out. Consequently, looking to Ireland and the continued decline in Gaeilge, Ekin (and later, ETA) extrapolated an urgent need for Basque nationalists to address a similar territorial retreat in Euskara. Both of these elements are exemplified in the following excerpt from Ekin’s notebook ‘Euskera y Patriotismo Vasco’ (Basque and Basque Patriotism): In a strict sense, only the Basque language maintains at an indisputable level the objective unity of Euskadi, through its Basque-speaking areas of the Spanish and French states. Bearn [in France] and La Rioja [in Spain] are racially Basque areas. But this affirmation has no other value than that of erudition. Neither the Bearnese nor the Riojans feel themselves to be Basque, nor do the Basques consider the Riojans and Bearnese to be compatriots. The fundamental reason for this split is that, six to eight centuries ago, the Bearnese and Riojans ceased to be Basque. The day when only French is spoken north of the Pyrenees, and only Spanish south of the Pyrenees, Euzkadi will have disappeared. And if it gains independence under those conditions, which is unimaginable, it will be no more properly Basque than La Rioja and Bearn are today. That is to say, zero [...] Since the times of Machiavelli, it is well-known political advice, and of infallible effects, that to kill a people there is nothing more forceful than to kill the national language. A people that stops speaking its language is a people that has died. A people that exchanges its language for that of its neighbour is a people that exchanges its soul for that of its neighbour [...] there is NO reason not to realise that the survival of Euskadi is at stake before our very eyes, and in our generation, FOR THE LAST TIME. Languages die, peoples die. It is miraculous to resurrect the Dead. The problem has always been one of time. With certain caveats, the case of Ireland is instructive. There is an EXTREME URGENCY to save the Basque language.16 In addition to an existentialist approach to Euskara, Watson highlights Ekin’s goal of Basque independence and the group’s non-confessional postulates as differentiating the young nationalists from the PNV. Despite these differences, not long after Ekin had formed, members of the cells were drawn back into the jeltazle orbit. In 1956, two of Ekin’s founding members, José María Benito del Valle and José Manuel Aguirre, attended the World Basque Conference in Paris. In the French capital,

100  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) they discussed and agreed with José Antonio Aguirre a merger between Ekin and the PNV’s youth branch, Eusko Gaztedi (EG, Basque Youth). The new entity would be called Eusko Gaztedi del Interior (EGI, Basque Youth of the Interior).17 The 1956 World Basque Conference would be remembered for one other notable occurrence. Born in the Biscayan town of Getxo to German and Italian heritage, a self-taught linguist named Federico Krutwig was one of the 350-plus conference attendees. Addressing political activists from across the entire non-Francoist and non-communist Basque spectrum, Krutwig delivered an impassioned speech in which he called for an armed Basque uprising. While Krutwig’s intervention fell flat among those present, it was a worrying omen for the PNV officials. As long as Franco remained in power, frustrated Basque nationalists on the periphery of the party’s orbit would perhaps seek alternative strategies to that of the government-in-exile.18 Almost as soon as it had been formed, tensions surfaced in the newly merged EG-Ekin entity EGI, with suspicions of American-backed servício (agent) infiltration undermining confidence between the EG and Ekin sectors. Despite this issue, EGI held together for the best part of two years, distributing clandestine publications, painting ikurriñas in public spaces, organising classes in Euskara, folk dances, mountaineering excursions, and so on. Plans for more direct actions, such as the planting of incendiary devices and firecrackers, were, for the moment, shelved.19 Divisions within EGI eventually came to a head in April 1958 when a dispute over the expulsion of Benito del Valle compounded underlying strains between an Eusko Gaztedi faction that continued to remain loyal to their seniors in the PNV, and those who were being won over by Ekin’s more radical programme. Although talks to resolve tensions were chaired by Lehendakari Aguirre in Paris, no agreement was reached, and a fundamental breakdown in relationships occurred soon after. This split in EGI became definitive when, in July 1959, the Ekin-oriented faction officially founded ETA.20 Post-War Irish Republicanism and a New International Vista

As an organisation that had played a pivotal role in modern Irish (and British) history since the Irish War of Independence, the post-war IRA, unlike Ekin, was not starting from “zero”—or at least not entirely. For starters, republican objectives and principles born out of the Irish Revolutionary Period remained as strong as ever. Ireland was to be reunified by any means necessary. Northern Ireland, as a British colonial statelet, and Éire, as a neocolonial entity, were to be dismantled. The IRA was the keeper of the flame, the protector of the de jure Irish Republic (1919). Indeed, this mandate had been explicitly handed over to the IRA Army Council in 1938 by seven of the Irish Republic’s surviving anti-treaty representatives.21 While this was the republican movement’s grand theology, the blunt reality was that the IRA had been crushed and demoralised by northern and

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  101 southern wartime internment. Many questioned its very survival.22 Meanwhile, seeing the entire institutional apparatus on the island North and South as illegitimate, Sinn Féin maintained its policy of abstention and, consequently, its almost total irrelevance. In what one historian has described as a “friendly coup”, the IRA effectively took over the running of Sinn Féin in 1950 when Paddy McLogan succeeded Margaret Buckley as party president. McLogan, together with Tony Magan, Chief of Staff of the IRA, and another republican hardliner, Tomás Mac Curtáin, were to dominate Sinn Féin and the IRA for the next decade.23 The ‘Three Macs’ agreed to build towards an armed campaign in the North. As for the South, the IRA’s General Order No. 8, issued in 1954 under the new leadership, forbade any hostilities.24 Magan set about turning the IRA into an effective and disciplined army, untainted by any of the left-leaning politics or dissent that, in his view, had undermined the organisation throughout the 1930s.25 By the middle of the 1950s, there was fresh impetus on the political side of the republican ‘house’ too. In May 1955, Sinn Féin ran on an abstentionist ticket in the Northern Ireland precinct of the UK General Election, surprisingly winning two seats. Four more abstentionist seats followed in the general election to Dáil Éireann in March 1957. The party’s strategy of building an all-Ireland republican parliament from abstentionist representatives (or, in republican parlance, reconsecrating the true Dáil Éireann) was starting to bear fruit.26 After several years of planning, the IRA launched its northern offensive in December 1956. Partly inspired by events in Cyprus, Vietnam and Israel, ‘Operation Harvest’ began with an IRA blitz on British custom posts along the border. However, with few people rallying to support the campaign and the Northern Ireland Government interning IRA suspects, all initial momentum was quickly lost.27 Compounding the republican movement’s flagging campaign in the North, Sinn Féin was proscribed in 1958 by the unionistdominated administration in Belfast. Three years later, the party lost the four (abstentionist) seats it had won at the 1957 General Election in the South. To all intents and purposes, the republican movement was back to square one. Zooming out from Sinn Féin and the IRA’s post-war domestic woes, from the late 1940s to the early 1960s, a more positive arc of anti-colonial/anti-­ imperial struggles on the international stage offered hope for even the most hermetic of republicans. First published by Sinn Féin in 1948, the Dublinbased monthly journal United Irishman regularly filed reports and editorials on this emerging anti-colonial/anti-imperial context. News of Britain’s relinquishing of her possessions in India (British Raj) in 1947, Sri Lanka (1948), Palestine and Transjordan (1948), Sudan (1956), Malaya (1957) and Ghana (1957), alongside the Suez Crisis of 1956, all fed into the objectively true assertion that the sun was finally setting on the British Empire.28 Moreover, the success of Ethniki Organosis Kyprion Agoniston (EOKA, National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters) against the British in Cyprus (1955–59) was not only keenly observed in the pages of United Irishman but, according to

102  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) various sources, also influenced strategic thinking at the upper echelons of the IRA.29 In Algeria too, the Front de Libération Nationale’s (FLN, National Liberation Front) struggle against France (1954–62) fed into the same broad thrust of anti-colonial/anti-imperial rhetoric; as did the works of Frantz Fanon (a member of the FLN), whose books became staple reading material for revolutionaries the world over, including in Ireland. Finally, the Algerian case lent itself to analogies between French imperial colons and Northern Ireland’s unionist population.30 Pulling together the above strands, from an Irish republican perspective, it was logical to see the gradual weakening of the British (and French) Empire as a possible stepping stone towards London, one way or another, inevitably having to relinquish the ‘final six counties’ of her first colonial possession. And while this was not the first time that kindred international struggles appeared in Irish republican discourse, the significant difference post-1945 was that decolonisation, especially British decolonisation, supercharged from 1960 onwards, was happening around the globe. As we shall see over the remainder of the chapter, this new anti-colonial/anti-imperial vista, often imbued with leftist revolutionary rhetoric, would not only have an impact on the ideological and strategic direction of the Irish republican movement and ETA throughout the 1960s, but it would also gradually draw both political cultures into contact. ETA and el Libro Blanco

[I]n 1919, a year after the end of the European war, the true secret organisation of the [Irish] Resistance was formed, with de Valera at its head. This great man, with his huge frame almost two metres tall, with his skills of command and organisation, seconded, in turn, by no less courageous and intelligent men, brings about this great organisation, a model of modern resistance.31 (From ETA’s Libro Blanco, 1960) Upon its founding in 1959, ETA was organised into a loose network of sectors, covering everything from the formation of cells and education to the dissemination of the organisation’s literature; from the promotion of Euskara to a ‘Legal Action’ branch that agitated at the very limits of what was permissible under the law.32 While ETA would eventually become an organisation principally associated with political violence, the deliberate decision to initiate an armed campaign would be arrived at some years later. In the meantime, the same anti-colonial/anti-imperial scheme featured in the pages of United Irishman (Algeria, Cyprus, and so forth) was similarly present and influential in ETA’s early ideological and strategic development. Particularly salient throughout Ekin’s and ETA’s formative years was the Israeli paramilitary group Irgun, which simultaneously provided overlapping templates for movement security, language revival (Hebrew) and military insurrection.33 Given the success of their revolutionary contemporaries in the likes of Tunisia,

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  103 Algeria, Cyprus, Israel and Cuba, and those same groups’ “indirect diffusion” of their organisational and tactical norms, ETA’s coming struggle against a much more powerful enemy, a priori, did not necessarily seem irrational.34 ETA had another international “model of modern resistance” in the shape of Ireland, albeit one that was still centred on the Irish Revolutionary Period some 50 years previously. Published in 1960, ETA’s Libro Blanco contained an updated, definitive version of Julen Madariaga’s triad of international references for the Basque Country (Ireland, Israel and Tunisia). Running ten pages in length and including La Tragedia de Irlanda in its bibliography (translated and distributed four decades previously by the Irish Republic’s Press Agent in Spain, Máire O’Brien), Madariaga’s Irish case study contained several lessons for the Basque people in general, and ETA in particular. First, it was asserted that all previous Irish attempts to find an accommodation with Britain had consistently weakened Irish nationalism. Conversely, it was only through confrontation that the Irish had gained the required strength for a “nation-on-nation war” against her ancient foe. This was, seemingly, a “perfect analogy” for Euskadi.35 Second, Libro Blanco’s account of Ireland’s “secular epic” against the British invader dovetailed seamlessly with ETA’s master analytical framework, which considered Spain itself to be the fundamental source of the Basque nation’s ills, as opposed to the dictatorship.36 And third, throughout the long history of “the heroic struggle of the Irish for their independence”, the Irish people’s endurance and sacrifice against the invader had seemingly never wavered. This heroic steadfast image was juxtaposed with the Basques, who were perceived, on the contrary, as passive agents in their own demise for having abandoned their “millenary language”: And so, this is more or less the brief political history of Ireland, from which it only remains for us to draw a positive moral and apply it to all the other national minorities of the whole world and, especially, to our own. Constancy and sacrifice were the exceptional qualities of this great nation, which, not for one moment, abandoned its national conscience, which, unfortunately, we, or rather our ancestors, have done, leaving aside the vigorous internal life of the race, with its history and its millenary language, and adopting, on the contrary, exotic languages and customs, true assassins of the Basque genius.37 As emphasised by historians such as Watson and Conversi, the plight of the Basque language (understood by Ekin’s and ETA’s ethno-linguistic nationalists as the very essence of ‘Basqueness’) was a crucial factor in the movement’s gestation.38 As was the day-to-day disillusionment and frustration felt by many young Basque nationalists towards the PNV-led government in exile. Try as it might, the beleaguered Basque Government was simply unable to address a multifaceted political and social crisis that was unfolding in the Basque Country under the dictatorship: political repression, mass immigration, rapid urbanisation, environmental degradation, and so on.39

104  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) Faced with these challenges and with little prospect of external assistance, in the view of ETA, the solution was to move beyond an initial urge to simply “act” à la Ekin. What was now seemingly required to save the Basque nation was the sacrifice and dedication of young Basque nationalists on the interior (meaning within Spain). Akin to the ‘Third World’ revolutionary and national struggles of the era (e.g., Israel, Vietnam, Algeria) and that of the Irish four decades earlier, these young patriots would have to take matters into their own hands. If the requirement for military action was not yet explicit in Libro Blanco, it was certainly implicit: The independence of Ireland, Israel, Cyprus, etc., has not been achieved through American, or French, etc., armed aid, or even through the Irish, Israelites, etc., residing in the United States, or in any other country. The salvation of those countries has been achieved by their patriots of the interior, and in a very particular way, by their young patriots […] [I]t is the youth of today who will be called upon to make the greatest sacrifice, if we want to achieve something, since it is the youth, on account of their courage, their decisiveness and because they have less to lose, that has always brought about the fall of dictatorships […] Our obligation, if we want to reach these objectives, will be twofold: to fight so as not to lose the Basque personality, and to fight to overthrow the tyrant and to achieve some of the goals or, at least, get closer to them.40 In Libro Blanco, ETA’s stated “goals” were for “direct federal integration into Europe” (a goal shared with the post-war PNV)41 or “complete independence”. Regarding the latter, could ETA really establish an independent state in the face of an ultranationalist and authoritarian Spain? Moreover, would a meaningful proportion of the Basque people even support this objective? Although many within the PNV upheld Basque sovereignty as a matter of principle and agreed with the aims and idealism of the young ETA activists, in practice, the party deemed the restoration of Basque autonomy a far more realistic prospect. Still, 15 years on since end of World War II and with the Western powers having rehabilitated Franco’s regime as a bulwark against communism,42 only the most partisan of jeltzales could convincingly claim that the PNV’s post-war strategy had borne any fruit. Basque nationalism was at a crossroads with big decisions to make. On 22 March 1960, Lehendakari José Antonio Aguirre died suddenly of a heart attack. Generally respected by Basque nationalists and non-nationalists alike, the charismatic Aguirre had steadfastly led his people through their many travails for the best part of a quarter of a century.43 Aguirre’s successor as lehendakari was Jesús María de Leizaola, a 63-year-old PNV stalwart who, through no fault of his own, simply lacked his predecessor’s magnetic personality. Neither the goals of the idealistic, upstart radicals in ETA, nor those of the more pragmatic and seemingly out-of-touch PNV were close to being realised.

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  105 An Irish Foray

I came back here [Basque Country] and, of course, I got mixed up in politics in Franco’s time. I came in 1952, and then the last day in 1959 I had to leave [again].44 (Author interview with Iker Gallastegi) Having spent 15 years in Ireland, Iker Gallastegi (Gatari), son of Eli, left his adopted home in 1952 for Bilbao. Seeing EG/EGI as “the only thing there was” in opposition to the dictatorship, Iker would soon involve himself in the young jeltzales’ activities. Spanish police began a crackdown on EGI in the autumn of 1959, provoking a wave of arrests and detentions that continued until the following summer. Fearing imminent arrest, on New Year’s Eve 1959, Iker Gallastegi crossed the Spanish-French border. The young Gallastegi soon made his way to the coastal town of Donibane Lohizune, to the home of his father, who had himself returned from Ireland in 1958.45 According to Iker Gallastegi’s recollections of this late-1959/early-1960 period, Gatari and a handful of his EGI comrades were promised by their seniors in the PNV that the party “would get some people from [a US base in Bordeaux] to train us”. Seemingly after “one or two months” waiting in vain in the French Basque Country—“we were doing nothing; typical of the PNV”—Gallastegi made a decision: He would attempt to organise the “training” in Ireland instead.46 Despite intermittent references made to a 1960 Iker Gallastegi-led Irish foray in the decades since, the specific details of this trip have been few and far between.47 Based on an interview with the late Iker Gallastegi (which, naturally, should not necessarily be taken at face value), archive letters and additional sources, the bare bones of the 1960 trip may now be fleshed out, if not necessarily all of the intrigue surrounding it. In the words of Gallastegi: “I said, look, I’ll go to Ireland because I know people in the IRA and, in fact, I can arrange with them to.… I can keep us training there. [Then] I’ll call for the others [to follow]”.48 The “others” were Patxi Amézaga, from EGI; Mikel Isasi, a fellow EGI activist who also became a member of the PNV’s Euskadi Buru Batzar (EBB, Basque Central Committee) that same year, and Borja Escauriaza.49 Another figure in this episode was Joseba Rezola, a PNV member and Lehendakari Aguirre’s Secretary General for Defence during the Spanish Civil War. As well as communicating back and forth with Eli Gallastegi throughout 1957 and 1958 on Basque and Irish national issues, Rezola was also known to Ambrose Martin, as evidenced by a 1956 letter penned by Martin for Rezola to bring to the Irish Embassy in Paris.50 On 1 February 1960, just one month after Iker Gallastegi had crossed the Spanish-French border, Gatari wrote a letter from London to an unnamed “adizkide” (friend). Commencing with the 1 February letter, so began a series

106  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) of communications in which ongoing “negocios” (business) related to an important “asunto” (matter or issue) dominated the conversation. While the exact nature of this “matter” is never openly discussed, it is clear that the “adizkide” in question is Joseba Rezola and the purpose of Gallastegi’s trip was, in the words of Rezola’s biographer, for the “paramilitary preparation of the nationalist groups”.51 Before analysing a handful of extracts from the Gallastegi-Rezola letters, additional information should be noted. First, given that Gatari’s first letter to Rezola was sent from London (1 February 1960), it follows that the young Gallastegi—having waited a little less than his stated “one or two months” in vain for PNV instructions—must have left the French Basque Country for the English capital in January of 1960. Second, a subsequent letter from Gallastegi to Rezola is dated as 23 March 1960 and postmarked from Dublin, meaning that Gallastegi must have travelled across the Irish Sea in the intervening period. Third and finally, having gone to Ireland on his own and met “people from the IRA”, Gallastegi subsequently “called for the three [others] to come over” and join him.52 The three “fardos” (literally “bales” or “bundles”) mentioned below almost certainly refer to Amézaga, Escauriaza and Isasi. What follows is a sample of the correspondence between Gallastegi and Rezola from 8 June to 15 September 1960:53 Letter from Iker Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, Dublin, 8 June 1960: Although this may not reach you before your departure for London, I would like to inform you that my efforts here have finally(!) borne fruit. The business we are talking about can be set up with every guarantee. I have even inspected the premises and it is perfect for our requirements. The partner here is competent and serious and knows the business very well, as do those who work with him. In addition, as they have a business similar to the one we want to set up, they have almost all the tools we would need, so we can start right away. I think a good date would be towards the end of July if the necessary documents can be arranged there to send the three fardos of raw material that are there. I don’t think the operation will last more than two or three weeks because during that period we would be in business day and night. Anyway, there is no time limit, and we will be here as long as it takes. But I repeat, we have to arrange the documents to send the three fardos there. I think you will be perfectly aware of how the matter stands, but as soon as we meet in London, I will give you all the relevant details. Letter from Joseba Rezola to Iker Gallastegi, Donibane Lohizune, 15 June 1960: It was with great joy that I read your letter of the 8th and with no less joy that of your friends when I informed them of its contents. At last, the business is going to be able to get going and with the best prospects

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  107 for the future. Before this one, you will have received another from your friend Borja who wants you, to claim from there. If you have not answered him yet, tell him that you have discovered for him the possibility of giving some lessons and that in any case it is convenient for him to go there because the placement is very interesting and there are good possibilities of getting it. Borja’s intention is to go there as soon as he receives your letter and make the necessary arrangements [...] With Borja I can send you money for any expenses you may have incurred there. The two fardos that remain will also be sent soon, of course, by the date you indicate. I am here awaiting an imminent visit, but which is taking longer than I would like. As soon as I have received this friend, I will make the projected trip and we will see each other as we had planned. And as soon as something is decided I will not delay in communicating it to you. In business you must not be in a hurry. Take as much time as you need for things to be done in the best possible way. Letter from Iker Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, Dublin, 20 June 1960: I hope that everything is going well and that the business will be profitable. As soon as everything is ready, the four of us will go, with one or two experts, from here, to a farm where we will be completely dedicated to the business at hand for as long as necessary. They assure me here that they do not consider it necessary or advisable for it to go on for more than three weeks, but we will see about that as we go along. I am in constant contact with them, and I will send you details as they are finalised. Letter from Iker Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, Dublin, 5 September 1960: Since the arrival of our two colleagues has coincided with the vacations of some of the factory personnel, some difficulties have arisen and although we already know everything about the machinery we will be using, it would be convenient to complete our knowledge about administration, organisation, etc. In case you have any other ideas, please let us know as soon as possible. According to Gallastegi, when his comrades arrived in Ireland, they came with a message from Rezola, who had apparently received orders from “his superiors in the PNV”. Rezola requested that Gallastegi meet him in Pau, southern France. The message relayed, Gallastegi claims to have returned immediately to meet with the PNV figure. He recalls: [Rezola] wanted to know what we were doing and all that [in Ireland]; but, he said, the main thing—and I got a little bit annoyed with

108  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) him—he said: ‘I have a priest that I know very well. He works for me sometimes’. And I said: ‘well what’s a priest got to do with any of this?’ And he said: ‘well, he’ll tell you when you can kill somebody and when you cannot. He said he’d advise you’. And for that, I went from Dublin to Pau and came back from Pau the same day! Back to Dublin. We never met that priest!54 In interview with this author, Gallastegi stated that the four men received “training” in Ireland: “Well, there were three or four volunteers and we used to training [sic] in Gibbstown, in the castle. And sometimes in Dublin, but mainly in Gibbstown”. No further details of this “training” were forthcoming.55 Ibarzabal’s account, written in the 1970s and based on interviews with former EGI and ETA militants, explicitly states that the men were engaged in “learning guerrilla techniques from the IRA”.56 It has been established that, by the early 1960s, the prospect of political violence against the dictatorship had already been discussed within Basque nationalist circles. However, despite the temptation to resort to military means, the prevailing view to refrain from such a course of action, maintained by the likes of Aguirre, Manuel Irujo and other leading PNV Basque nationalists, had held.57 Given the above, the Gallastegi-led trip to Ireland in 1960 warrants closer reflection. Although Gallastegi suggests that the initial impulse for the trip was his alone and with no official sanctioning from the PNV or EGI, the Gallastegi-Rezola letters would seem to indicate a certain degree of coordination and/or financial assistance offered to Gatari and his comrades. Lending further credence to this idea, Federico Krutwig is quoted as suggesting that the 1960 trip was bankrolled by a wealthy “Basque patriot from Venezuela” via Rezola.58 On the Irish side of the equation, it has been speculated that two of the IRA members involved in the Basque “training” were Seamus Costello and Frank Keane.59 Active during the early phase of the IRA’s Operation Harvest, Costello spent six months in prison and a further two years in internment before being released in 1959. He became a member of the IRA Army Council in 1962 and, following his assassination in 1977, a martyr of Irish socialist republicanism. Keane, a rank-and-file member, was court-martialled and dismissed in 1965 for organising training units without authorisation.60 If these men were central to the Basque group’s “training”—and I must stress that this suggestion is highly speculative—it is likely to have been an ad hoc venture rather than an arrangement sanctioned by the IRA Army Council when one considers both men’s profiles in 1960. Another element to consider is that from the very moment the 11 refugees arrived in Gibbstown in 1940, the ‘Basque Village’ had drawn considerable attention from Irish police and military intelligence. One would therefore have to assume that the Irish authorities were at least partially abreast of the Gallastegi-led group’s presence in 1960. Evidence of police raids on

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  109 republicans around Gibbstown and its hinterlands in the late 1950s and early 1960s adds to this thesis.61 Yet, whatever specific “training” the Basques received, it seemingly did not warrant the men’s arrest or deportation. According to Ibarzabal and Garmendia, Iker Gallastegi’s comrades spent two months in Ireland. Gatari’s stay was, it seems, much longer. Having arrived via London in February or March 1960, he returned once again to the French Basque Country in October. Passing through the English capital on his return, Iker Gallastegi made sure to accumulate “a pile of notes, photocopies, military booklets, etc.” from the British Museum.62 While questions regarding the exact details and scope of Gatari’s return to Gibbstown in 1960 and the “training” that he and his comrades seemingly undertook remain, what is clearly evident is that it was premised on Basque armed struggle and possible assistance from the IRA. In this sense, Krutwig’s remarks that “[the] first commandos were not from ETA but were created by people who split from Eusko Gaztedi”63 are not without foundation. French Connections

On his return to Donibane Lohizune in late 1960, Iker Gallastegi quickly befriended a fellow exiled EGI comrade named José Antonio Etxebarrieta. Etxebarrieta had been studying Law in Bilbao before crossing the border into France. Now in Donibane Lohizune, and apparently with “nowhere to go and nothing to do”, it was arranged for Etxebarrieta to travel north to Paris, “where there were several other young refugees, as well as quite a few Basque students”. Etxebarrieta resumed his third-level studies in the French capital courtesy of a Basque Government grant. Between the French Basque Country and Paris, the two young friends, Iker and José Antonio, maintained regular contact.64 They would soon be joined in France by an influx of ETA militants fleeing across the border. On 18 July 1961, a group of Francoist ex-combatants boarded a train bound for San Sebastián (Bilbao-San Sebastián line) to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Nationalist uprising. In what was ETA’s first major attack, militants of the organisation unsuccessfully attempted to derail the train just outside the San Sebastián suburb of Aiete.65 The fallout from ETA’s botched attack would be a chastening experience for the nascent organisation, with over one hundred suspected militants quickly rounded up. Moreover, ETA’s entire presence in Spain was effectively dismantled, leading to the ascendancy of a “small group of those who managed to escape, in permanent assembly and discussion” around Biarritz and Bayonne.66 The French Basque Country would thenceforth become ETA’s de facto base. Three months after ETA’s attempted train derailment, the PNV’s Manuel Irujo invited a handful of EGI members to a conference at the jeltzales’ offices in Paris. While officially held to mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Basque autonomous government, the conference would also serve as a

110  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) controlled environment for the young EGI activists to air their grievances. Renewing their friendship, José Antonio Etxebarrieta and Iker Gallastegi both attended; as did ETA’s leading ethno-linguistic nationalist, José Luis Álvarez Enparantza (Txillardegi).67 According to Iker Gallastegi, both he and José Antonio Etxebarrieta were eager “to make it clear [in Paris] that something had to be done”.68 Addressing the conference, Iker Gallastegi’s speech transmitted to the jeltzales present that the “something” that “had to be done” may well require the use of violence: [W]e have forgotten the path to freedom: the straight path, the path of sacrifice and generosity. This path is hard and bloody [...] Today there is only one method; today there is only one path, the true path, the path that all countries that have had dignity and all countries that have achieved their freedom have had to travel: the path of arms; the only path capable of convincing or defeating our enemy […] War is a terrible thing, but it is not an evil thing.69 Elements of Iker’s speech in Paris bore witness to his formative years spent in Ireland. For instance, his reference to “War is a terrible thing, but war is not an evil thing” was almost certainly taken from Patrick Pearse’s ‘Peace and the Gael’, written in 1915.70 Similarly, in delivering some home truths to the PNV leadership, as Gallastegi saw it, about the likely necessity for violence, the EGI activist paraphrased Terence MacSwiney in referencing the sacrifices that such a course of action would entail: “It will not be those who can inflict the most, but those who can suffer the most who will triumph. It will not be we who will shed innocent blood, but we who will offer it”.71 Around the same time as the Paris conference, Etxebarrieta penned a short pamphlet titled ‘An approach, a problem, an opinion’, similar in tone and logic to his comrade Gallastegi: Who honestly believes that there would be a free and dignified Ireland today if the Irish had used the works and Masses of St. Patrick? Do they believe that there would be an Algerian problem if the nationalist leaders had confined themselves to the fine arts? Do they believe that Cyprus has its current ‘status’ because St John Chrysostom came down on Fridays to convince the parliamentarians of Britain?72 Shortly after Paris, Etxebarrieta took up residence with the Gallastegis in Donibane Lohizune. With the recent influx of EGI and ETA activists, the French Basque Country was quickly becoming a revolutionary hothouse. According to Iker, the two organisations attempted to reach an accord, but this was scuppered by his personal suspicion of two ETA representatives.73 Federico Krutwig recalls arriving in Biarritz in 1961, where “everyone was talking about violence and the need to form armed groups”.74 Reflecting on

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  111 the dynamic between Etxebarrieta and Gallastegi junior at the time, Krutwig later observed how Iker was “strongly influenced by the ideas of armed revolution, but he did not know how to express them well”. It was José Antonio Etxebarrieta, “whom Iker had taken under his wing”, who synthesised and “wrote down the ideas of Gatari”.75 Utilising the materials that the young Gallastegi had brought back from London in October 1960, Iker and José Antonio debated the central tenets of Basque nationalism and the tactics and strategies that the Basques should pursue. Ireland, Algeria, Palestine and the Congo all featured in these conversations. Whilst living in Donibane Lohizune, Etxebarrieta, a future ETA intellectual, also spent much of his time talking politics with Eli Gallastegi.76 Within PNV circles, Iker Gallastegi’s October 1961 intervention in Paris had been received with consternation. Nine months later, Manuel Irujo delivered a public riposte in the party’s official organ, Alderdi. Titled ‘Patriotas y gamberros’ (Patriots and hooligans), Irujo’s article elaborated on Iker’s utilisation of Patrick Pearse’s remarks on war, with an additional qualification: “That war is ‘not an evil thing’ is only said by fascists”.77 The PNV’s idea to allow the younger generation to speak their mind in Paris had clearly backfired. News of the PNV’s Paris conference travelled across the Atlantic, where a network of radical Basque exiles was equally becoming disillusioned with the Basque Government’s inaction.78 In the March 1962 issue of Tximistak, both Iker Gallastegi and Txillardegi (referred to as “the representative of the Eta group”) were praised for their interventions in the French capital. In synthesising the emerging strategic and generational departures between Basque nationalists on both sides of the Atlantic, Tximistak invoked the spirit of the Easter Rising rebels, the Irish Revolutionary Period martyr Terence MacSwiney, and finally, the IRA: During the last few months, the voice of the resistance has been heard outside of Euzkadi. First the representative of the ‘Eta’ group spoke in Paris; then that of ‘Euzko Gaztedi’ [...] They are new men in the Basque patriotic field and their ideas are new as well. Before these young men and their clear, sharp, courageous manifestations, the men of the group that acted in 1936, their thoughts and their methods, appear as a museum. The new generation, to which the future rulers of Euzkadi belong, is increasingly distant from what we could call the ‘generation of the statute’ [...] Gentlemen of the ‘Basque Government’, the hollow, numbing verbiage is over. These are no longer the times of Mr Arturo Campión [Basque fuerista and later, nationalist politician (1854–1937)] and the English liberals, whose proposal of autonomy for Ireland would have been worthless, Mr. Irujo, without all that followed: the holocaust of Mac Swiney [sic], the bloody Easter Rebellion and the Irish Republican Army.... A holocaust like that one, a rebellion of that kind, an army

112  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) like the IRA is what Euzkadi needs. And it will have it, because it will be given by new men who today act with new ideas.79 If “an army like the IRA is what Euzkadi needs”, whatever attempts that had been made to organise a militant front from within the ranks of the young jeltzales had, by early 1962, been firmly rejected by the PNV leadership. As Etxebarrieta acknowledged in a letter to a Venezuelan friend in March of that same year: [T]here has been some chinchorrería [fussiness or annoyance] and lack of desire on the part of the old men that have led the last EBB and the last government to say, without listening to any of the interested parties, that violence is useless.80 Unperturbed by the PNV’s stance and with funds replenished from the Americas, throughout the summer of 1962 José Antonio Etxebrarrieta and Iker Gallastegi began to bring small groups from the Basque interior across the border into France, “to give them training”. Shadowed by police, Gallastegi’s border movements did not go unnoticed.81 He would soon find himself caught up in a minor French-Spanish diplomatic and security spat. In response to the advocation of Algerian self-determination by French President Charles de Gaulle in September 1959 and the backing of this principle by popular referendum in January 1961, several hard-line French nationalist groups and former army officers began to forge a military alliance in opposition to their government’s Algerian pivot. Operating in part from the Spanish Basque Country and Madrid, the Organisation Armée Secrète (Secret Armed Organisation) carried out dozens of attacks against French interests, leading authorities in Paris to request the militants’ expulsion from the vicinity of the frontier. Spain agreed, but with the quid pro quo that the French reciprocate by expelling a number of Basque nationalists from the French Basque Country. Iker Gallastegi was one of 18 Basque nationalists moved from the border area.82 Relocated to Bar-le-Duc in northern France in October 1962, Iker Gallastegi’s expulsion was raised a month later in Dáil Éireann by Joseph Barron, a TD for Clann na Poblachta (Family of the Republic). Barron asked what actions the Minister for External Affairs “proposes to take with regard to an Irish citizen, Iker Gallastegi, against whom the French Government have issued an expulsion order”. Taoiseach Seán Lemass, responding on behalf of the absent minister Frank Aiken, assured Barron that: Representations about the case were immediately made to the French authorities by the Irish Embassy in Paris. In reply the Embassy was informed that Mr. Gallastegi could not be permitted to continue to reside on the Spanish frontier but that, in deference to its representations, his place of residence was being changed again to a district likely to be more acceptable to him. The Deputy will appreciate that the issues involved here are entirely within the jurisdiction of the French Government. If,

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  113 however, it should later appear that further representations can usefully be made to the French authorities, the Embassy in Paris will be instructed accordingly.83 No “further representations” to the French authorities were required. Instead, when the Algerian situation had calmed down, Gallastegi simply returned to the French Basque Country circa 1963. Iker Gallastegi never became a member of ETA. Apart from holding “some arms, which we passed to them, a small quantity of arms”, he ceased his political activity to all intents and purposes in 1962. Author: “Were you active after 1962?” Iker Gallastegi: “No, I wasn’t active, [although] you always do something. In any case, I don’t think very much can be done”.84 Gatari’s erstwhile comrade and future ETA intellectual José Antonio Etxebarrieta did not share Iker’s somewhat fatalistic assessment. Influenced by the Cuban Revolution, Maoism, the works of Karl Marx, Vladimir Lenin, Jean-Paul Sartre and Frantz Fanon, Etxebarrieta—“the first theorist of the armed struggle” according to his former ETA comrade Patxo Unzueta—had already synthesised these strands into a ‘Manual de Resistencia’ (Manual of Resistance) for armed insurrection in the Basque Country.85 Sowing New Seeds On 26 February 1962, Operation Harvest was called to a halt by the IRA’s Army Council. A statement cited “the attitude of the general public whose minds have been deliberately distracted from the supreme issue facing the Irish people—the unity and freedom of Ireland”.86 The failure of the IRA’s campaign immediately set in train a period of reflection and restructuring within the republican movement. Four months later, in June 1962, Sinn Féin officially recognised the primacy of the IRA as the “Government of the Republic”. Thus, while still officially “independent and autonomous”, Sinn Féin was now explicitly expected to conform to IRA policy. There were also changes in key personnel. Tomás Mac Giolla, a County Tipperary republican, became President of Sinn Féin in March 1962; three months later, Cathal Goulding replaced Ruairí Ó Brádaigh as Chief of Staff of the IRA—the latter stepping aside for personal reasons.87 Throughout the 1960s, the republican movement’s cohesion would be stretched to the limit by the gravitational pull of two broad tendencies. While one prioritised the ‘traditional’ bread-and-butter mainstays of Irish republican theology and was suspicious of any slide towards constitutional republicanism, the other, led by Goulding and Mac Giolla, sought to pivot the movement in a ‘modern’, leftward direction, and to focus on grassroots social agitation.88

114  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) A republican journalist, Deasún Breatnach, embodied some of the tensions at the heart of Irish republicanism in the 1960s. Born in Dublin in 1921, Breatnach was both an occasional contributor to the Irish Independent under the pen name “Rex Mac Gall” and a founding member of the Wolfe Tone Societies, which the modernisers used as a vehicle to gradually shift the tectonic plates of Irish republicanism.89 In April 1962, Breatnach began to contribute pieces for United Irishman, many of which centred on his passionate advocacy for the Irish language.90 Breatnach also sought to provoke philosophical debate and reappraisal of long-held Irish republican tenets. For example, an explainer published next to one of his columns in September 1963 informed the reader that [t]he writer is not a member of any political organisation but is a Republican, disillusioned by 40 years of deceit, compromise and treason. He appeals here for an examination of issues, other than the fundamentals of Unity and Republicanism and the promises in the 1916 Proclamation and the democratic charter of the first Dáil, and asks that they be discussed realistically, without fear, as a prerequisite to the march of the nation in the unity that Tone, Rossa, Pearse and Connolly advocated. Readers’ views will be welcomed.91 Breatnach had served in the Irish State’s Local Defence Forces during World War II. He had also been a member of Ailtirí na hAiséirghe (Architects of the Resurrection), a minor fascist-leaning party that sought to create a Christian-imbued totalitarian state with pan-Celtic ties to Welsh, Scottish and Breton nationalists.92 After the war, Breatnach met his future wife, Maria de la Piedad Lucila Hellman de Menchaca whilst living in Madrid. Born in Algorta, Biscay, to a German father, ‘Lucy’ fled to her father’s homeland as a refugee during the Spanish Civil War. Conscripted for service in the German women’s land (farming) army, she had subsequently “orchestrated her own escape” and made her way to Madrid in 1940. In 1950, the young couple made Ireland their home.93 Whether as a result of living in Spain or the influence of his Basque wife, ‘Lucy’, Breatnach’s contributions to United Irishman from 1962 onwards occasionally incorporated the struggle of the Catalan and Basque languages as comparative references in his columns on Gaeilge and broader political, social and economic issues.94 Breatnach’s writings also happened to dovetail with a ‘third wave’ of European nationalism in the 1960s that tended to be articulated around the political, linguistic and cultural rights of small stateless nations in western Europe.95 As heavily evidenced across the pages of United Irishman throughout the 1960s, this ‘third wave’ analysis led to a surge of IRM interest and engagement with pan-Celticism, as well as frequent expressions of solidarity with other historic Celtic nations (Scotland, Wales, Brittany, Mann and Cornwall) and their political and cultural struggles

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  115 against the British and French states. Reflecting the ‘third wave’ departure, a Celtic League was set up in 1961 to foster cooperation and transnational solidarity between members.96 That the Basques were not actually Celts hardly mattered for Irish republicans. Although there is no concrete evidence to point to, in the context of the broader ‘third wave’ struggle for political, national and cultural rights and the IRM’s (re)engagement with its Celtic nation brethren, Breatnach’s minor references to the Basque Country in United Irishman—the first of their kind in the post-war era—would almost certainly have resonated with Irish republicans, if even only from a relatively narrow linguistic/cultural perspective. In the August 1963 edition of United Irishman, ETA appeared in the republican organ for the first time. In a document sent directly to the monthly periodical, ETA detailed various allegations of torture that its members had suffered at the hands of Franco’s regime. Among the allegations were reports of prisoners beaten to the point of unconsciousness (including Julen Madariaga), threats to family and friends, and insults of “incredible sadism” made during interrogation. The United Irishman article finished with the following editorial comment: Unfortunately, we have not the space to list the other allegations of torture which are contained in this document. Are these allegations true? The relationship between the methods allegedly used by the police in each case and the listing of names and addresses give one a picture of authenticity. And also, we have been learning so much of late about the ruthlessness of General Franco’s dictatorial government that allegations like these do not seem out of place. In hindsight, it is interesting to note United Irishman’s cautious response to ETA’s allegations of torture. In treating the allegations as precisely that—­ allegations—it is evident that the republican organ knew little if anything of the Basque group. A wider lack of Irish republican knowledge regarding the Basque Country may also be extrapolated from the very first line of the same article: “The Basques are a Slavic nation in Northern Iberia”.97 ETA’s 1963 torture dossier represents the first de facto organisation-toorganisation contact between radical Basque nationalism (ETA as its main post-war articulation) and the Irish republican movement (via Sinn Féin’s United Irishman) since the final days of the Second Spanish Republic. Around the same time as the publication of the United Irishman article, ETA’s Julen Madariaga was in Algeria seeking support from its revolutionary government.98 Asked about the possible existence of more tangible contacts and relations between ETA and the IRM at this juncture, Madariaga stated that there was none to his knowledge. He did, however, concede that: “Yes, we desired to have them [relations].… It was in our spirit that one day we would establish an organisation-to-organisation relationship; that is true”.99 His near-contemporary in the IRA, Roy Johnston, offered the following

116  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) overview: “I was aware of the existence of the Basques [in the 1960s], but I don’t remember any particular contacts”.100 Finally, and of more anecdotal interest than consequence, the name of the renowned Irish dramatist and former IRA member Brendan Behan appears on a list of external contacts compiled by ETA during the early 1960s. As such, it is quite possible that Behan, who spent some of his adult life in France, received copies of the ETA journal Zutik! from the organisation’s office in Biarritz. Intriguingly, as a teenage boy, Behan befriended Ambrose Martin’s son Eamonn and was a regular visitor to Gibbstown. One can imagine that Behan’s initial interest in the Basques may well have stemmed from his time spent in the ‘Basque Village’.101 Requiem for a Revolution

In a secret place, close to the detested border, 30 young men of the IRA—according to figures of the weekly magazine Time—the only survivors of the 500 who started the campaign in 1956, buried their olive-green uniforms with tricolour epaulettes on which was written, in Gaelic, the inscription: ‘Freedom Fighters’. Then they also buried their few remaining weapons (and with them their hearts) in an emotional ceremony. The IRA thus halted its career of violence and sat down to await the judgment of history.102 Three months after the cessation of Operation Harvest in February 1962, the above dramatic imagery of IRA members interning their arms and uniforms was reported in the PNV’s Gudari. Eusko-Gaztedi del Interior. For the jeltzales, the failure of the IRA’s campaign definitively illustrated once and for all that the gun in Irish politics was now obsolete. The reason: With Ireland and the UK seemingly set to join the European Economic Community (EEC), Irish partition would soon fade into insignificance.103 Reflecting the same sentiment, Manuel Irujo penned an article for Alderdi that same year in which he quoted de Valera’s summation of Operation Harvest as an exercise in “useless violence”.104 The PNV’s analysis of physical-force Irish republicanism as an anachronistic politico-military ideology—at odds with a bright new European future— also happened to chime with the jeltzales’ vision for a federal continent made up of a patchwork of regions, nations, and peoples (as opposed to a club of states).105 If the PNV considered the IRA effectively dead and buried in the early 1960s, leading ethno-linguistic intellectuals in ETA also seemed to consider that not only the IRA, but the Irish nation itself, had suffered the same fate. For ETA’s Txillardegi, the main lesson the Basques could draw from the Irish case was the following: Let’s be realistic: what would an erdeldún [non-Basque speaking] Euzkadi be, if not another Spanish Ireland? What is La Rioja? Why do

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  117 we want independence? Why fight for an independent Euzkadi, and not simply for another Spain or another France, if it is not going to differ in anything from Spain or France, but in everything from Euskal Herria?106 The same general thrust of Txillardegi’s Irish prism appeared in the landmark radical Basque nationalist text Vasconia, written by Federico Krutwig and first published in 1963. If the survival of the Basque nation or ‘Basqueness’ was contingent on the health of Euskara and the uniquely Basque mental patterns of thought that it bequeathed its speakers, in looking to Ireland, de-Gaelicised politically for centuries and with Gaeilge seemingly in terminal decline, it is of little surprise that Krutwig effectively pronounced the death of the Irish nation in Vasconia: [I]n Western Europe there was a people who, having fought like lions for centuries to achieve national independence, no sooner attained the freedom of their homeland that they actually lost their nation. Ireland was this disastrous case of a people to whom freedom has served for nothing, except to become more and more denationalised [...] [T]hroughout Europe the basis of nationality is constituted by the personality that a people acquires and the desire it has to preserve its idiosyncrasy. This personality rests almost always, at least preferably, on a language of its own which structures the mental relations of the people who use it. Hence, language is considered everywhere as the support and bond of nationality. From language derives the mentality and from this the way of acting. The mentality of a nation deprived of its language is altered.107 Krutwig had more time for ETA’s international contemporaries in Israel, Cyprus, Algeria, and elsewhere. Rejecting the inactive, old guard of Basque nationalism (i.e., the exiled Civil War generation of the PNV) and following in the footsteps of ETA’s international revolutionary brethren, the emerging post-war generation of young Basque nationalists on the interior had now seemingly summoned up the strength to resist the dictatorship and achieve their freedom: This Basque generation had to form its own ideals. No nationalist lifeblood ever reached it from outside. The strength that this feeling had in the Basque People throughout the centuries sprouted anew. And the new men sought their patriotic nourishment in the example of other peoples, of Israel, of Cyprus, Tunisia, Algeria, Indochina, of the nations who were shaking off the yoke of colonialism.108 As Ludger Mees notes in The Basque Contention, Krutwig’s “recourse to ideologues, ideas and concepts of anti-colonialism” in Vasconia suggested that “the strategies and tools for the fight against colonization were already

118  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) available and only had to be picked up and adapted to the Spanish and Basque context”.109 For Krutwig, Ireland’s long-dead revolutionaries, buried in their republican graves, had little room in this thesis. Between Green Fields and Red Flags In the spring of 1964, during the second part of ETA’s Third Assembly in Bayonne, the organisation agreed a ‘Declaration of Principles’ from which a structure of hiruko (militant cells), liberados (full-time ETA activists) and Buruzagi (military leader) were put in place. While the position of Buruzagi (held by Madariaga) only lasted a little over a year, the hiruko commandoes and liberados became permanent fixtures in ETA’s military organisation. A working paper named ‘La Guerra Revolucionaria’ (Revolutionary War), later retitled and published as ‘La insurrección en Euskadi’ (Insurrection in Euskadi), also emerged from the assembly.110 ‘La insurrección en Euskadi’ went further than anything published previously by ETA in articulating what a successful armed campaign in the Basque Country would entail. Pulling together military strategies, tactics and structures borrowed from Israel, Vietnam, Cyprus and the Algerian FLN, it stands as an explicit testimony to the ‘Third World’ revolutionary influence on ETA, even if socio-economic conditions in the Basque Country bore little resemblance to those theatres of war. ‘La insurrección en Euskadi’ also alluded to a thesis first presented by Krutwig in Vasconia. This was the notion that the Basque bourgeoisie (i.e., the PNV) had betrayed the Basque people and, through collaboration with Spain, was complicit in the erasure of the Basque nation from within. Harnessing this supposed betrayal, in ‘La insurrección en Euskadi’, ETA projected its future domestic enemies, who would seemingly reveal themselves by their self-exclusion from the organisation’s overarching “IDEA”: If all the inhabitants of Euzkadi are not abertzales and supporters of social justice, it is because they are not free, because they have not had the opportunity to know, adopt and love our IDEA. We must not exclude anyone ‘a priori’. Our IDEA will act as a natural frontier. Our enemies will exclude themselves. Our combat can only lead us to (definitive) victory through (momentary) defeats, but with the exclusion of any possible compromise. All other kinds of considerations are secondary with respect to our victory. Nothing matters apart from the final goal.111 ETA’s attempt to reconcile and conjoin the objective of Basque ‘national liberation’ with a traditional Marxist-based analysis of class struggle (most of the Basque working class were, in fact, Spanish immigrants or descendants of Spanish immigrants) would have two main consequences. First, it would

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  119 lead to several splits in the organisation and the repeated triumph of the more militant, nationalist sectors at the expense of those on the left considered too accommodative of Spain: the españolistas. Second, in representing the PNV as out of touch, passive, bourgeois and even treacherous, the gap between radical and moderate Basque nationalism widened. Indeed, at ETA’s Third Assembly, nothing less than the PNV’s complete “destruction” was suggested.112 Rumours of PNV-ETA collaboration, which had often appeared in the Francoist press, were dispelled in a March 1964 edition of the PNV’s Alderdi. Contrasting the young ETA upstarts with the jeltzales’ self-proclaimed “70 years of clean history”, the PNV organ took aim at the party’s emerging bête noire, Federico Krutwig: For simple political seriousness, and in order to make things clear and so that no one may be deceived, we believe it necessary to deny these falsehoods and to declare publicly that the organisation known by the initials of E.T.A. is neither an activist nucleus, nor a terrorist section of our Party, nor does it have any disciplinary ties with it [...] For some time now, some acts have been attempted or carried out in our country which fall within the generic denomination of terrorism. These acts have had their apology and excitement in the chapter dedicated to the revolutionary war in the book Vasconia, written by a literary ‘plastikolari’, whose adjectives and falsehoods recall the language and style of the propaganda of the best times of Hitler and Stalin, and who has the audacity to attack the Basque Nationalist Party and the Government of Euzkadi, nothing less than in the name of the Basque language, in the name of the Basque nation and in the name of the right of the Basque people to their freedom, his other favourite victim being nothing less than the Basque Clergy. In view of this, and of the rapid and reiterated use that the Francoist authorities are making of the aforementioned work, there is room for all hypotheses as to the motives that the author and the promoters of the edition have set out to achieve, or as to whom these new disciples of Mao-Tse-Tung are effectively serving.113 If ETA was anathematic to the PNV, and vice versa, perhaps the young radical nationalists could, or indeed should, look to develop other contacts and relations. At ETA’s Third Assembly, the organisation decided to initiate contact with “non-Basque forces”. These “exterior relations” would be orchestrated by “an element of ETA in North Euzkadi”. Regardless of whether these “non-Basque forces” hailed from fellow stateless Iberian nations (Catalan and Galician nationalists in exile) or were from other parts of Europe or beyond, there was only one simple and non-negotiable prerequisite: “Condition sine qua non for dealing with [non-Basque forces]: that they acknowledge the right of Euzkadi to its independence”.114

120  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) From Julen Madariaga’s research in the early 1950s to the publication of ‘La insurrección en Euskadi’, ‘Third World’ and Irish Revolutionary Periodtinged analyses had helped to shape and demarcate Ekin-ETA’s ideological and strategic path. From 1964 onwards, additional dimensions to ETA’s international scope began to emerge. The first would draw ETA closer to the previously outlined western European stateless nation critique. From the mid-1960s onwards, limited coverage of Breton issues began to appear in ETA’s publications, as well as commentary on Basque news content that had been published by a young left-leaning Breton nationalist group called Unvaniezh Demokratel Breizh (UDB, Breton Democratic Union).115 Sporadic notices related to Scottish and Welsh political and cultural issues also began to crop up in Zutik! If coverage from Brittany, Scotland and Wales helped to transmit an underlining message that ETA was not alone, then reproductions of Franco-critical articles from the mainstream European press concerning repression of the Basque people reinforced this sentiment.116 Second, ETA members began to take a more direct approach to propagating their cause to the outside world. Pre-dating more recent, similar forms of Basque izquierda abertzale activity, ETA militants reportedly handed out information to English and French tourists in San Sebastián in 1965.117 A third external initiative by ETA came with less pre-planning. In late 1964, four of the organisation’s key leaders, Madariaga, Txillardegi, Benito del Valle and Eneko Irigarai, were expelled from the French Basque Country: Benito del Valle went to Venezuela; Madariaga and Irigarai to Algeria, and Txillardegi to Belgium. From Brussels, Txillardegi, under the pseudonym of “Jean”, took up the task of coordinating the group’s disparate international membership. The framework of a Federación de ETA en el Extranjero (Federation of ETA Abroad), spread across the Americas (Venezuela, Mexico, Argentina) and linking Algeria to Paris and Brussels, was subsequently sketched out.118 From the scant documentation available on the federation, it is apparent that Txillardegi was keen to extend ETA’s organisational and propaganda structure beyond the Basque Country and its traditional Basque émigré communities. For instance, a proposal was made for an English version of Zutik! containing “important news stories”. Another suggested that “the British delegation shall be reorganised”. Of most relevance to this study was Txillardegi’s desire to establish a “radio transmitter” in either Ireland or Great Britain. This, he surmised, as being the principal objective of the federation. A radio transmitter remains the Federation’s main objective. Possibilities in Ireland and Great Britain will be explored. A radio TECHNICIAN capable of promoting this initiative is proposed as an immediate objective.119 In October 1965, a meeting took place in Paris between ETA “members of the Interior and from abroad”. A record of determinations was drafted by a “J”—perhaps shorthand for Txillardegi’s “Jean” alias. According to “J”, it

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  121 was agreed that ETA’s international hiruko (cells) would carry out operations against Spain’s diplomatic missions in the event of an ETA member’s death: Things are getting tougher. The Executive has decided that, in all points of the world where there are more than three ETA members (or even three), hirukos must be prepared, with the corresponding material, which will have as their mission, without new complementary orders, the attack on the respective embassies as soon as a serious event occurs. The Executive considers that, at any moment, a bloody clash may occur, costing the life of an ETA member; and that in such a case, without further notice, the embassies must be attacked in the various countries where the Foreign Federation [Federación de ETA en el Extranjero] has forces and militants. This decision is secret. The corresponding measures must be taken immediately.120 In the slightly longer Basque version of the same document, an ETA “delegation” is again referred to as being located in the UK. Coupled with Txillardegi’s “transmitter” proposal, one could suggest that by late 1965, an ETA hiruko of two or three members was perhaps already in place in Britain and that the organisation was open to developing some sort of propaganda infrastructure in Ireland. Movements in Flux (Part I)

During ETA’s Fourth Assembly (1965), the organisation distilled and debated its accumulated knowledge of external insurrectionary models. Emerging from the assembly, a policy of ‘action-repression-action’ was deemed most suitable for sustained engagement with the enemy in the Basque Country. The rationale behind the chosen policy was as follows: As ETA stepped up its actions against the regime, invoking state repression against ‘the masses’ in the process, this repression would, in theory, lead to increased support for the organisation, its subsequent attacks, and its revolutionary objectives.121 Broad support for ‘action-repression-action’ went some way to papering over the ideological cracks within ETA. In the vacuum left by the leadership expulsion of late 1964, control of the organisation had swung towards leftist elements on the interior who sought to encourage a more explicitly Marxist analysis of working-class struggle at the expense of the national issue.122 Not everybody was pleased with the shift in emphasis. Throughout late 1965 and into 1966, tensions within the organisation mounted over its ideological direction. This culminated with ETA’s ethnolinguistic nationalists and tercermundista (third-worldist) tendencies accusing the more Marxist-oriented españolistas of attempting to undermine and liquidate the organisation. During ETA’s Fifth Assembly, held over 1966 and 1967, the españolistas were unceremoniously dismissed. ETA was also restructured and streamlined into four autonomous fronts: economic, cultural,

122  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) political, and military.123 In an effort to bridge the organisation’s national and class positions, a concept referred to as ‘Pueblo Trabajador Vasco’ (PTV, Basque Working People) was introduced. The PTV was to be ETA’s revolutionary base, with working-class immigrants usually included or excluded from its slightly ambiguous parameters depending on their Basque nationalist convictions. Finally of note, ETA’s tercermundistas’ analysis, articulated most notably by José Antonio Etxebarrieta, proved to be highly influential throughout ETA’s Fifth Assembly period.124 While the Irish case did not necessarily fit neatly into ETA’s ‘Third World’ schema, instructive lessons from Ireland’s revolutionary generation continued to be occasionally employed in the group’s literature throughout the organisation’s tumultuous mid-to-late 1960s period: The century of nationalities, the 19th century, has already passed. The twentieth century, the century of nationalist movements and minority aspirations, will soon end its second third. The Basque national problem, in so far as it has been brought to the public eye, has already been in existence for a century and a quarter, with three military defeats to its credit; a short time if compared with the eight centuries of continuous warfare that Ireland waged to achieve only the short half of its aspirations. A long time, however, if we consider that Algeria has achieved its national objectives in half the time and that other countries such as Cyprus, India, Morocco, etc., have liquidated their problem in a short period of time.125 (Zutik! no. 20, 1964) Similarly, in Txillardegi’s cultural periodical Branka (“a semi-ETA terrain [...] trilingual, abertzale, intellectual and progressive”), analogies were drawn from Irish-British history to attack the “thesis of ‘leftist’ anti-Basqueism” within ETA’s orbit. In this analogy, the Marxist españolistas’ primary focus on class issues was disparaged as akin to a wilful ignorance of the national question in Ireland’s relations with Britain: [T]he Basque problem is not vis-à-vis Spain (let alone France...), but within Spain [...] This is exactly the line of many Zutik-FLP [Frente de Liberación Popular] throughout 1965: there is no Basque national problem, but a problem of democracy in Spain. Let us translate: there is no Irish national problem, but a problem of democracy in Great Britain.126 (Branka, no. 6, 1968) Condemned as ‘liquidationists’, the expelled leftists of ETA were to soldier on as ETA-Berri (New ETA). In 1972, they morphed into Euskadiko Mugimendu Komunista (EMK, Communist Movement of Euskadi) before being absorbed into the state-wide Movimiento Comunista (Communist Movement).

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  123 Movements in Flux (Part II)

Ever since the climax of Operation Harvest in 1962 and the accompanying change in movement leadership, the ‘traditionalist’ and ‘modernising’ factions of the IRM had both steadily moved leftward ideologically.127 Despite this shared trajectory, however, tensions between the two tendencies had only increased. As Treacy identifies, a crucial difference between the two factions lay in the fact that each moved towards a more socially conscious and active grassroots form of republicanism from two markedly different starting points. Thus, while the traditionalists’ republicanism was heavily influenced by reforms in Christian social doctrine during the 1960s, the outlook of the modernisers tended to be based around the core ideology and tenets of socialism itself.128 Another sore point was the modernisers supposed running down of the IRA. Traditionalists suspected that this was a ploy to move towards more radical socialist policies and the eventual creation of a National Liberation Front in alliance with the Communist Party of Ireland (CPI) and other leftists. Even more concerning from the traditionalist perspective was the rumour that British communists held significant influence over the modernisers and their agenda. Long-held suspicions that Goulding and Johnston were, in fact, soviet infiltrators, further exasperated these tensions.129 There was greater consensus between the two tendencies on international issues, with references to the political and cultural struggles of the other Celtic nations (at first notable in United Irishman during the early 1960s) becoming increasingly frequent towards the end of the decade.130 The 50th anniversary of the 1916 Rising presented an opportunity for the IRM to cement some of the Celtic links that had emerged around the Celtic League. On Easter Sunday 1966, visiting Breton, Welsh and Flemish nationalists marched through Dublin in a ‘Republican parade’ from Custom House quay to Glasnevin cemetery. To their disappointment, however, they were curtailed from participating in the official state parade. Not unlike Basque nationalists’ unrequited overtures to Fianna Fáil-Irish republicanism in the 1930s, the 1966 Easter commemorations illustrated how misty-eyed perceptions of Ireland as a bona fide champion of small stateless nations sometimes jarred with political reality.131 One prominent Breton nationalist who partook in the 1966 commemoration was Yann Goulet. Using false identity papers, Goulet had made his way to Ireland via Wales after the liberation of occupied France. Accused of wartime collaboration with the Nazis, he was subsequently sentenced to death by a French court in absentia.132 Living just outside Dublin in the seaside town of Bray, Goulet’s home, for much of the 1960s, served as the official “letterbox” for a new revolutionary Breton group: Front de Libération de la Bretagne (FLB, Breton Liberation Front). Founded in 1963 and taking inspiration from the Irish Revolutionary Period rebels, the FLB began an armed campaign in 1966, attacking

124  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) French administrative buildings, installations and statues in Brittany.133 As we shall see in Chapter 5, a handful of joint statements between the FLB, the ‘Provisional’ IRA and ETA were signed in the early 1970s. North of the border, the 50th anniversary of the 1916 Rising led to a far more chilling series of events. Seemingly convinced that the IRA was about to launch a new armed campaign to coincide with the 50th anniversary, a loyalist paramilitary group named the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) carried out three unprovoked sectarian killings in Belfast across the summer of 1966.134 With tensions already escalating, the 1966 murders were an unnerving harbinger of the “Troubles” that would soon engulf Northern Ireland. Boiling Point In the mid-1960s, after decades of mobilisation, African-American communities across the USA began to see an end to institutional discrimination and segregated spheres of public life. This movement had a profound effect on the Catholic/nationalist community in Northern Ireland and, in particular, a younger, better-educated post-war generation that had benefitted from the introduction of free education across the UK in 1947 (Education Act).135 Discriminated against politically, culturally and economically within Northern Ireland since its inception, many northern Catholics and nationalists began to demand “full British rights” from the same state that had effectively excluded them.136 Made up of a broad alliance of nationalists, socialists, professionals, republicans and student activists, the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association (NICRA) sought to exert pressure on the unionist-dominated Parliament of Northern Ireland precisely to these ends, especially in the areas of universal franchise and equal access to social housing.137 In addition to the civil rights movement in the USA, the events of May 1968 in Paris (workers-students’ strikes and demonstrations) offered Irish republicans another external prism through which they could frame their struggle. Akin to the post-war anti-colonial/anti-imperial struggles in the likes of Algeria and Cyprus et al., Paris 1968 served to crystallise a number of common transnational denominators in the already-volatile territories of Northern Ireland and the Basque Country.138 These macro politico-military currents formed the backdrop to the holding of an international congress in February 1968 on the mother of all contemporary national liberation movements: Vietnam. Held in Berlin, Germany, both ETA and the IRA sent representatives. To my knowledge, this is the first documented evidence of plausible IRA-ETA organisation-to-organisation contact, notwithstanding the possibility that previous encounters may well have taken place.139 That same year, in September, an IRA Army Convention instructed that “contact be made with international Socialist underground

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  125 revolutionary groups and Socialist Governments anywhere, to investigate the possibility of obtaining arms and finance unconditionally”.140 ETA published a new manifesto on the occasion of the 1968 Aberri Eguna. Surveying the situation in the Basque Country and lamenting the “daily violence” and “torture” of the Spanish police, the organisation remarked ominously: “It is no secret that we will hardly get out of 1968 without a death”.141 In June, ETA’s hitherto mainly symbolic struggle turned violent when Javier (Txabi) Etxebarrieta (José Antonio’s younger brother) gunned down a Spanish police officer named José Antonio Pardines. Within hours, Etxebarrieta was himself killed by Pardines’ colleagues.142 More blood was shed two months later. This time a Brigada de Investigación Social (Secret Police) chief known for his torturous interrogations, Melitón Manzanas, was killed as he entered his living quarters in Irun. As one contemporary British newspaper put it, the killing of Manzanas in August 1968 “brought the pot to the boil” in the Basque Country.143 The authorities’ response was swift and brutal. States of exception and the suspension of habeas corpus in the already “traitorous” province of Gipuzkoa ensured that not only suspected ETA militants, but swathes of the Basque people were subject to the heavy hand of the regime.144 With ETA cells swiftly broken up and its leaders either detained or exiled, by April 1969, nearly every key ETA militant on the Spanish side of the border had been neutralised by one means or another.145 Almost as soon as it had been initiated, ETA’s grand strategy of ‘action-repression-action’ had ground to a shuddering halt. At roughly the same time in Northern Ireland, simmering tensions rose sharply in October 1968 when a planned civil rights march through the predominantly nationalist city of Derry was baton-charged by members of the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC). Belatedly recognising the urgent need for structural reform in Northern Ireland, Prime Minister Terence O’Neill unveiled proposals that he hoped would ameliorate the civil rights movement’s demands and stave off future flashpoints. “Ulster” he said, “stands at the crossroads”.146 On New Year’s Day 1969, a planned four-day ‘Long March’ from Belfast to Derry, inspired by the famous ‘Selma to Montgomery’ marches in the USA, was attacked by loyalists as it approached the North’s second city.147 Already under sustained pressure from the civil rights movement to introduce reforms, O’Neill’s proposed reform agenda was simultaneously and bitterly resisted by a significant minority of his own Ulster Unionist Party (UUP). His decision to face down internal opposition by calling a snap election in February 1969 would prove to be a fateful one. While 23 ‘Pro-O’Neill’ unionist candidates were returned, the election of 13 ‘Anti-O’Neill’ unionists scuppered the prime minister’s ability to implement his reform agenda. A young ‘Anti-O’Neill’ firebrand named Ian Paisley only narrowly failed to take the prime minister’s own seat. O’Neill resigned soon after, to be replaced by James Chichester-Clark.148

126  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) In August 1969, the escalating “Troubles” in Northern Ireland eventually spilt onto the streets in the form of major open violence. On 12 August, clashes broke out in Derry at the culmination of an Orange Order Apprentice Boys march, leading to pitched battles between loyalists, the RUC and residents from nationalist areas. The Battle of the Bogside, as it became known, resulted in the barricading of a large nationalist area of the city and the creation of ‘Free Derry’, which the RUC was unable to enter. On 13 August, protests in Belfast that had aimed to shift the emphasis away from Derry similarly descended into a melee of inter-communal and RUC violence.149 Attacks by loyalist groups on vulnerable nationalist areas of the city, most notably the burning down of Bombay Street, have been characterised by some as a pogrom.150 Scrambling to defend nationalist areas of Belfast and armed with a small arsenal of weapons, the IRA emerged onto the streets over the next few days, exchanging gunfire with the RUC.151 At the end of an extraordinary week, eight people lay dead; over 750 others had been injured (including 133 gunshot wounds); British Army soldiers had been deployed to the region’s streets, and Taoiseach Jack Lynch had requested that the British “enter into early negotiations with the Irish Government to review the present constitutional position of the six counties of Northern Ireland”. More provocatively, Lynch had also declared that his government “could no longer stand by and see innocent people injured”.152 As Northern Ireland and the Basque Country entered largely congruent periods of political violence circa 1968/1969, a resolution of “solidarity with the Basque and Breton Peoples in their struggle against French and Spanish Imperialism” was passed at the 1968 Sinn Féin Ard Fheis.153 In the same vein, during a Sinn Féin Coiste Seasta (Standing Committee) meeting held in August 1968, one speaker stated that: “There was some contact with the Basques”. An update regarding this Basque “contact” was subsequently provided at the following Coiste Seasta one week later. Indicative of the oftenconfusing nature of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations to come over the next decade, surviving records regarding the update simply state: “No action on the Basques, due to splits”.154 Conclusion We had little knowledge of Ireland, but that little knowledge became mythical, which is very important, isn’t it?155 (Eduardo “Teo” Uriarte, ETA militant in the 1960s) This chapter has sought to account for radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations and contacts in the post-war era, up until the onset of sustained political violence in both cases circa 1968/1969. In the aftermath of World War II, Irish republicans and Basque nationalists both struggled to make headway in terms of their respective objectives. In the Basque context,

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  127 repression of political and cultural expression outside of that which rigidly adhered to Franco’s authoritarian and integrationist brand of Spanish nationalism rendered the radical aberriano/Jagi-Jagi line of Basque nationalism virtually redundant and the PNV irrelevant. Meanwhile, in Ireland, the IRM largely adhered to its own self-imposed exile from the political life of the southern and northern states. Outside of these domestic contexts, the emergence throughout the 1950s and 1960s of several macro international trends prised open alternative politico-­military strategies and tactics for Irish republicans and radical forms of Basque nationalism to engage with, analyse and debate, if not necessarily utilise (e.g., anti-colonialism/anti-imperialism, revolutionary leftism, European stateless nationalism, civil rights).156 Having effectively rejected the PNV’s form of Basque nationalism, successful ‘modern’ anti-colonial/anti-imperialist struggles in the likes of Israel, Algeria, Tunisia, Cyprus and Vietnam offered a post-war generation of radical Basque nationalists on the interior fresh impetus, as well as a toolkit of ideological, intellectual and organisational resources. Alongside these contemporary ‘Third World’ references, the Irish revolutionary generation of de Valera, MacSwiney et al. were (re)discovered and similarly utilised by Ekin and ETA in their discourse. Within this schema, the Irish case underscored the idea that national liberation—attained by Ekin and ETA’s contemporaries in the likes of Israel and Algeria in the 1950s and 1960s—could be achieved by a relatively small, dedicated militant vanguard that was committed to overthrowing a more powerful ‘occupying’ state, regardless of how long the struggle could take. In this sense, Ireland served, primarily, as a blunt heroic reference for the epic nation-versus-nation prism that would come to dominate ETA’s thinking. As we have seen, this dichotomous Ireland-England (or Britain) frame also occasionally provided ETA’s ethno-linguistic nationalists and tercermundistas a bulwark against the Marxist priorities of the organisation’s much maligned leftist españolistas. Secondly, if Basque essence or ‘Basqueness’ was experienced through the language of Euskara, then by that same logic, the Basque nation would die if Euskara were left to disappear. Heavily influenced by existentialist trends of the era that saw in language the primary vehicle of identity and existence itself, in looking to Ireland and the decline in Gaeilge, Ekin and ETA extrapolated an urgent need for Basque nationalists to address a similar territorial retreat in Euskara. For ETA, who presented Spain as an imperial state, colonising the Basque Country from within,157 armed insurrection, therefore, appeared to be the only solution. Apart from Deasún Breatnach’s writings in United Irishman and ETA’s torture dossier of 1963, there is practically no evidence of republican discursive engagement with the Basque case throughout this period. In this respect, the transnational dynamic between radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans remained steadfastly asymmetric and focused on the Irish Revolutionary Period.

128  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) While the macro-international trends documented in this chapter gradually drew Irish republicanism and radical Basque nationalism into closer discursive orbits, incremental engagement (through movement publications) and fitful Basque-Irish contacts and relations were usually provoked by more personal and circumstantial micro factors. For instance, the Iker Gallastegi-led “training” expedition to Ireland in 1960 most likely stemmed from opportunities inherent to his own (and possibly his father’s) network of contacts, as opposed to any shared transnational anti-colonial/anti-imperial thesis or organisational objective. Similarly, Breatnach’s references to the Basques and their language in United Irishman were more than likely the product of his personal background. Events in 1968 and 1969 provided the first inklings of a new contemporary era of reciprocal Basque-Irish transnational interest (as opposed to the asymmetric Irish Revolutionary Period frame). Sinn Féin’s resolution on the situation in Spain, mutual IRA-ETA attendance at the International Vietnam Conference in Berlin and contact with “the Basques” discussed at consecutive Sinn Féin Coiste Seasta meetings in 1968 are the first tentative signs of a shift in dynamic. The confluence of political violence in the Basque Country and Northern Ireland over the next decade and a half, with ETA and the IRA to the fore, would crystallise this new contemporary context around the shared premise of ‘armed struggle’ for ‘national liberation’. Moreover, the legalisation of radical Basque nationalist parties in the 1970s would, finally, open up opportunities for the development of meso-level organisation-to-­ organisation relationship strands. Nothing about this process was inevitable. On the contrary, the development of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations throughout the 1970s and early 1980s would be as contingent as ever on individual personalities, circumstances and unforeseen events, as well as the broader vagrancies of the political situations in the Basque Country, Northern Ireland, and beyond. Notes 1 “De Valera en Loyola y Zarauz,” FOCO, 19.09.1953. For information and press-cuttings related to this trip, see the file: Taoiseach’s (Mr. De Valera) visit to Spain 1953, DFA 5/5/3 MADRID, NAI. 2 “Lo eterno español en Eamon de Valera,” Guardia Civil – Revista Oficial Del cuerpo (April 1953), EdVP, P150/3036, UCDA. 3 Whelan, “1939–55,” 16, 204, 232, 239–41. 4 “De Valera en Loyola y Zarauz,” FOCO, 19.09.1953; Department of External affairs to Kathleen O’Connell, 27 August 1953, EdVP, P150/344, UCDA; Whelan, “1939–55,” 271. 5 Watson, Modern, 314. 6 Ludger Mees, “Transnational nationalism: the Basque exile in Barcelona-ParisNew York (1936–1946),” in The International Legacy of Lehendakari José A. Agirre’s Government, eds. Xabier Irujo and Mari José Olaziregi (Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada, 2017), 159–82, quote on 179; Mees, Contention, 87–94.

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  129 7 Note from a group called the ‘Basque Patriots of Zaraúz’ to Éamon de Valera, 10 September 1953, Zarautz, EdVP, P150/3044, UCDA. 8 Watson, Modern, 321–24. 9 “José Antonio Etxebarrieta, original inédito para ser publicado como ‘Zutik extraordinario 49–50’, en 1968, que no llegaría a editarse. II. Breve resumen de la historia de ETA,” Documentos Y, 1: 18. 10 “Nacimiento de ‘EKIN’, 1952/56,” Documentos Y, 1:11–12; José Antonio Etxebarrieta, Documentos Y, 1: 18–20; “Notas a los ‘Cuadernos EKIN’,” Documentos Y, 1: 76; Eugenio Ibarzabal, “Así nació ETA,” Muga, no. 1 (June 1979): 76–89; Watson, Basque Nationalism, 186–87. When the Nationalist insurgents captured Bilbao in 1937, the provinces of Biscay and Gipuzkoa were stripped of their economic accords and officially declared “traitorous”. As Pérez-Agote notes, the intention of this decree was not so much to punish the “traitors” of Biscay and Gipuzkoa, but rather the provinces in general. See: Alfonso PérezAgote, The Social Roots of Basque Nationalism (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2006), 97. 11 “Nacimiento,” Documentos Y, 1: 11–12; “José Antonio Etxebarrieta,” Documentos Y, 1: 18; “Normas generales,” Documentos Y, 1: 87–90. 12 The full Cuadernos EKIN series are available in Documentos Y, 1: 77–109. 13 Author interview with Julen Madariaga, 2016. 14 Watson, Basque Nationalism, 190. 15 Ibid., 201–16. 16 “Euskera y Patriotismo Vasco,” Documentos Y, 1: 105–6. See also: “El grupo ‘EKIN’ y los primeros pasos,” Documentos Y, 1: 26. 17 Watson, Modern, 322–23; Gurutz Jáuregui, “ETA: Orígenes y evolución ideológica y política,” in La Historia de ETA, coord. Elorza, 170–266; John Sullivan, ETA and Basque nationalism: The Fight for Euskadi, 1890–1986 (London and New York: Routledge, 1986), 29–30. 18 Conversi, The Basques, 93; Clark, Basques, 157. 19 “Integración en Euzko Gaztedi, 1956–57,” Documentos Y, 1: 29–30; “Nacimiento de ETA (1958),” Documentos Y, 1: 31–32; Watson, Basque Nationalism, 198. 20 “La fundación de ETA,” Documentos Y, 1: 21–23; de Pablo and Mees, Péndulo, 308–9; Ibarzabal, “Así nació ETA”; Sullivan, ETA, 31–33. 21 “IRA take over the Government of the Republic,” Wolfe Tone Weekly, 17.12.1938. 22 J. Bowyer Bell, The Secret Army: The IRA, 1916–1979, rev. ed. (Dublin: Poolbeg, 1989), 239; Hanley, IRA, 118; Ed Moloney, A Secret History of the IRA, 2nd ed. (London: Penguin, 2007), 49. 23 Robert W. White, Ruairí Ó Brádaigh: The Life and Politics of an Irish Revolutionary (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2006), 36–37. 24 Hanley, IRA, 120. 25 Bowyer Bell, Secret Army, 245–47. 26 See: “Republicans and Six Counties’ Elections,” United Irishman, March 1958; “A Republican Parliament For All-Ireland,” United Irishman, July 1958; “Who are the abstentionists?” United Irishman, September 1961. 27 Coogan, IRA, 297–329; Hanley, IRA, 129. 28 For a handful of examples, see: “The sun is setting on the Empire,” United Irishman, April 1956; “The Dying Empire. It’s happening All over the World,” United Irishman, August 1956; “How Cyprus is tortured,” United Irishman, July 1957. 29 “The Cyprus Question,” United Irishman, August 1958; “Then Peace came to Cyprus,” United Irishman, June 1959; “They are Patriots – Not Terrorists,” United Irishman, June 1959, “E.O.K.A. hero laid to rest,” United Irishman, June

130  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) 1960. Two future IRA leaders, Cathal Goulding and Seán Mac Stiofáin, were influenced by a number of EOKA members during the 1950s whilst in prison in England. See: Brian Hanley and Scott Millar, The Lost Revolution: The Story of the Official IRA and the Workers’ Party (London: Penguin Books, 2009), 11; Seán Mac Stiofáin, Revolutionary in Ireland (Edinburgh: Gordon Cremonesi, 1975), 70, 74–79. Prior to his elevation to the position of Chief of Staff of the IRA, Goulding, as Quartermaster General, incorporated smaller EOKA-style cells into the organisation. See: Matt Treacy, The IRA, 1956–69: Rethinking the Republic (New York: Manchester University Press, 2011), 11, 19. 30 “With the rebels in Algeria,” United Irishman, September 1957; “The Struggle in Algeria,” United Irishman, March 1960. See also: White, Ashes, 392; White, Ó Brádaigh, 336–37. 31 Libro Blanco is reproduced in: Documentos Y, 1: 148–326, quote on 229. 32 “La fundación de ETA,” Documentos Y, 1: 22. 33 José María Garmendia, “ETA: Nacimiento, Desarrollo y Crisis (1959–1978),” in La Historia de ETA, coord. Elorza, 77–170; Watson, Basque Nationalism, 201, 211–12. See also: “Nacimiento de ETA (1958),” Documentos Y, 1: 31–32; “La Guerra Revolucionaria,” Zutik! (Caracas), no. 2, Pláticas sobre los novísimos, Documentos Y, 2: 505–8; “Euskadi-Israel: A relationship of military training, ETA’s empathy for Zionism and politics,” https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/ euskadi-israel-a-relationship-of-military-training-etas-empathy-for-zionismand-politics/, accessed 13 January 2020. 34 José María Garmendia, Historia de ETA, vol. I (San Sebastián: Haramburu, 1979), 17; Mees, Contention, 103. For more on this idea of “indirect transfusion”, see: Rebecca Kolins Givan, Kenneth M. Roberts, and Sarah A. Soule, “The Dimensions of Diffusion,” in The Diffusion of Social Movements: Actors, Mechanisms, and Political Effects, eds. Rebecca Kolins Givan, Kenneth M. Roberts, and Sarah A. Soule (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 1–18. 35 ETA, Libro Blanco, Documentos Y, 1: 228 36 Ibid., 204. For ETA’s perception of Spain, see: Iñigo Bullain, Revolucionarismo Patriótico: El Movimiento de Liberación Vasco (Madrid: Tecnos, 2011), 249; Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla, La voluntad del gudari. Génesis y metástasis de la violencia de ETA (Madrid: Tecnos, 2016), 39. 37 ETA, Libro Blanco, Documentos Y, 1: 231–32. 38 Conversi, The Basques, 265–69; Watson, Basque Nationalism, 185–224. 39 Mees, Nationalism, 24–25. 40 ETA, Libro Blanco, Documentos Y, 1: 240. 41 Leyre Arrieta Alberdi, Estación Europa: La política europeísta del PNV en el exilio (1945–1977) (Madrid: Tecnos, 2007), 90–98. 42 Jill Edwards, Anglo-American Relations and the Franco Question, 1945–1955 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1999), 229–33. 43 Ludger Mees, “Constructing and deconstructing national heroes: A Basque case study,” Studies on National Movements 3 (2015): 1–35. 44 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 45 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017; “Nacimiento de ETA (1958),” Documentos Y, 1: 31–32; Lorenzo Espinosa, Gudari, 128. 46 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. Gallastegi’s claim regarding possible US help should be treated with caution, though Joseba Rezola’s biographer Eduardo Jauregui Beraza does refer to a similar initiative around the same time. “From 1960 onwards, steps began to be taken to contact possible preparers who would actively train the chosen young men. The first steps were aimed at obtaining the collaboration of one of the former American officers who prepared the gudaris [Basque soldiers] in 1945”. See: Eduardo Jauregui Beraza, Joseba Rezola: Gudari de Gudaris. Historia de la resistencia (Bilbao: ANV-AA, 1992),

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  131 94. The USA maintained a presence at an airbase in Bordeaux-Merignac in the 1950s. It would appear, however, that they officially left in 1958. See: “Bordeaux Air Base, 1951–1961,” www.france-air-otan.net/STRUCTURE/Pages_web/­ Bordeaux_Historique_Fr.html, accessed 17 November 2022. 47 For example, see: Fernández Soldevilla, “De Aberri”; Ibarzabal, “Así nació ETA”; Juaristi, Bucle, 271. 48 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 49 Ibarzabal, “Así nació ETA”; Garmendia, “ETA: Nacimiento”; Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 50 Anasagasti and San Sebastián, Nuestro Hombre, 20; Eli Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, 4 October 1957, Dublin; Joseba Rezola to Eli Gallastegi, 15 October 1957, Ziburu; Eli Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, 16 January 1958; Ambrose Martin to Donal Hurley, 12 December 1956, Dublin, Correspondencia General B-L. REZOLA,KDP.00142,C.1, Rezola Arratibel, Joseba, ANV-AA. 51 Jauregui Beraza, Rezola, 94. 52 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 53 For the full series of letters, see: Iker Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, London, 1 February 1960; Joseba Rezola to Iker Gallastegi, 9 March 1960; Iker Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, Dublin, 23 March 1960; Iker Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, Dublin, 2 May 1960; Joseba Rezola to Iker Gallastegi, 12 May 1960; Iker Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, Dublin, 8 June 1960; Joseba Rezola to Iker Gallastegi, Donibane Lohizune, 15 June 1960; Iker Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, Dublin, 20 June 1960; Iker Gallastegi to Joseba Rezola, Dublin, 5 September 1960, Correspondencia General B-L. REZOLA,KDP.00142,C.1, Rezola Arratibel, Joseba, ANV-AA. 54 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 55 Ibid. 56 Ibarzabal, “Así nació ETA.” 57 Mees, Contention, 101–3. 58 Federico Krutwig, Años de peregrinación y lucha (Tafalla: Txalaparta, 2014), 29. Cited in: Fernández Soldevilla, “De Aberri.” 59 “Successful Newbridge meeting on Irish citizens of Basque origin,” https:// theirishrevolution.wordpress.com/2018/06/19/successful-newbridge-meetingon-irish-citizens-of-basque-origin/?fbclid=IwAR3snOZaDHNZtT0BPpbolxz H0PcU32_BOScaXYxniiHZKYLq_91LPnnLWD8, accessed 25 May 2022. 60 Hanley and Millar, Revolution, 25, 45; White, Ó Brádaigh, 115. 61 For example, see: “Little Children Questioned After Co. Meath Raid,” United Irishman, September 1959; “Swoop on Co. Meath,” United Irishman, February 1962. 62 Garmendia, “ETA: Nacimiento,” 97; Eugenio Ibarzabal, “Ayer y Hoy de Federico Krutwig,” Muga, no. 2 (September 1979): 50–68; Iker Gallastegi Miñaur, “El año en Donibane,” in Los vientos favorables: Euskal Herria 1839–1959, ed. José Antonio Etxebarrieta Ortiz, rev. ed., eds. Jose Mari Lorenzo Espinosa and Mikel Zabala (Tafalla: Txalaparta, 1999), 31–35. 63 Ibarzabal, “Krutwig.” 64 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017; Gallastegi Miñaur, “Donibane”; “Jose Etxebarrieta,” www.ehk.eus/es/biografias-de-proceso-de-liberacion/4494jose-etxebarrieta, accessed 27 May 2019. 65 Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla, “Dossier II. 1961, la primera operación policial contra ETA,” Quadernos de criminología: revista de criminología y ciencias forenses, no. 4 (2018): 26–31. 66 “Notas a la primera asamblea,” Documentos Y, 1: 522. 67 Fernández Soldevilla, “De Aberri”; Patxo Unzueta, “Regreso a casa. (Ayer y Hoy),” in La Historia de ETA, coord. Elorza, 421–39. According to Iker

132  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) Gallastegi, Etxebarrieta “organised for Txillardegi and myself to give meetings in Paris in the PNV house”. Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 68 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 69 “El sentimiento de nacionalidad,” Zutik! (Caracas), no. 16, Documentos Y, 1: 504–6. 70 Padraic Pearse, Collected Works of Padraic H. Pearse: Political Writings and Speeches (Dublin and London: Maunsel & Roberts limited, 1922), 216. Pearse writes: “War is a terrible thing, but war is not an evil thing”. 71 “El sentimiento,” Zutik! (Caracas), no. 16. 72 Cited in: Patxo Unzueta, Los nietos de la ira: Nacionalismo y violencia en el País Vasco (Madrid: El País, 1988), 161–63. 73 Gallastegi Miñaur, “Donibane.” 74 Cited in: Fernández Soldevilla, “De Aberri,” 75 Ibarzabal, “Krutwig.” 76 Gallastegi Miñaur, “Donibane”; Unzueta, “Regreso.” 77 “Patriotas y gamberros,” Alderdi, no. 182, May 1962. 78 Fernández Soldevilla, “De Aberri.” 79 “Nuevos Hombres, nuevas ideas,” Tximistak, Frente Nacional Vasco, March 1962. 80 Cited in: Fernández Soldevilla, “De Aberri,” 81 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017; Gallastegi Miñaur, “Donibane.” 82 Victor Delaporte, “‘Existe-t-il un axe Paris-Madrid de la répression?’ Coopérations et rivalités nationales et internationales au sujet des exilés politiques français et espagnols (1959–1964),” Revue d’histoire moderne & contemporaine 68, no. 1 (2021): 49–71; Gallastegi Miñaur, “Donibane”; Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 83 Explusion of Irish citizen from France, DE Deb, 8 Nov 1962, vol. 197, no. 5, www.oireachtas.ie/en/debates/debate/dail/1962-11-08/16/?highlight%5B0%5D =barron&highlight%5B1%5D=basque, accessed 27 May 2019. 84 Author interview with Iker Gallastegi, 2017. 85 Fernández Soldevilla, “De Aberri”; “Jose Etxebarrieta,” www.ehk.eus/es/­ biografias-de-proceso-de-liberacion/4494-jose-etxebarrieta, accessed 27 May 2019; Unzueta, “Regreso.” 86 “Campaign in six counties halted,” United Irishman, March 1962. 87 Treacy, IRA, 11, 18–19. 88 Matt Treacy, author of the most comprehensive account of the republican movement during this period, has categorised these broad group tendencies as ‘traditionalists’ and ‘modernisers’ respectively. See: Treacy, IRA, 16. Acknowledging these two tendencies is not to suggest that a mutual approach to social agitation and traditional military force were incompatible. For more on this issue, see: Liam Cullinane, “‘A happy blend’? Irish republicanism, political violence and social agitation, 1962–69,” Saothar 35 (2010): 49–65. 89 Treacy, IRA, 63. 90 For example, see: “The Materialist Concept of Patriotism,” United Irishman, April 1962; “Thoughts on the Irish language,” United Irishman, October 1962. 91 “Realism,” United Irishman, September 1963. 92 “Fógraí bháis. Deasún Breatnach,” An Phoblacht, 11.10.2007; Treacy, IRA, 37, 64. For a comprehensive study of Ailtirí na hAiséirghe, its ideology, Celtic connections and references to Breatnach, see: R.M. Douglas, Architects of the Resurrection: Ailtirí na hAiséirghe and the Fascist ‘New Order’ in Ireland (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009), 86–142, 231, 267–71. 93 “Who is Osgur Breatnach?” www.osgurbreatnach.com/osgur-breatnach/, ­accessed 27 May 2019.

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  133 94 For example, see: “The prospects for the Irish language,” United Irishman, May 1962; “The Irish language,” United Irishman, January 1963; “This is the moment of truth,” United Irishman, March 1963. 95 Francisco Letamendia, Game of Mirrors: Centre-Periphery National Conflicts (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2000), 54–56. 96 For example, see: “Brittany Faces Question of National Survival,” United Irishman, February 1960; “Growth of Welsh Nationalism,” United Irishman, October 1963; “Brittany: A Comparison with Ireland,” United Irishman, March 1964. The Celtic League was set up by leading members of the Welsh nationalist party Plaid Cymru (Party of Wales). The Breton nationalist Alan Heusaff, a veteran of the Bezen Perrot (Perrot Unit), was the Celtic League’s first General Secretary. Another Breton nationalist, Yann Fouéré, was a co-founder. In 1955 Fouéré was exonerated of wartime collaboration allegations. For more on this and Ireland as a quasi-mythical, revolutionary model for Breton and Scottish nationalists in the early twentieth century, see: Leach, Fugitive, 16–21, 29–30, 41–52, 81–88, 106, 124–27, 192. 97 “Basques Accuse Franco of Terrorism,” United Irishman, August 1963. 98 “Iulen de Madariaga,” Punto y Hora de Euskal Herria, 18–24.08.1977. 99 Author interview with Julen Madariaga, 2016. 100 Author interview with Roy Johnston, 2017. 101 Ricardo Zabala, ETA: Una Historia en Imágenes, 1951–1978 (Tafalla: Txalaparta, 2015), 72; Martin, “Behan.” 102 “Réquiem para el I.R.A.,” Gudari. Eusko-Gaztedi del Interior (Caracas), May 1962, Documentos Y, 1: 517. 103 Ibid. 104 “La violencia inútil,” Alderdi, March/April, 1962. 105 Arrieta Alberdi, Estación, 90–98. 106 “Del patriotismo vasco al regionalismo norteño,” Zutik! (Caracas), no. 59, Documentos Y, 4: 367–70. 107 Fernando Sarrailh de Ihartza (pseud. Federico Krutwig), Vasconia. Estudio dialéctico de una nacionalidad (Buenos Aires: Norbait, s. a., 1963), 10. The text of Iker Gallastegi’s 1961 Paris speech appears as an annexe in the first edition of Vasconia. 108 Ibid., 9. 109 Mees, Contention, 103. 110 “Notas a la III Asamblea,” Documentos Y, 3: 123–26. 111 “Cuadernos ETA – La insurrección en Euskadi,” Documentos Y, 3: 20–70. 112 “III Asamblea,” Documentos Y, 3: 123–26. 113 “Aclarando Confusiones,” Alderdi, March 1964. 114 “III Asamblea,” Documentos Y, 3: 123–26. 115 For example, see: “Noticas del extranjero,” Zutik Berriak, 13.12.1963, Documentos Y, 3: 15; “Mesa Redonda de Zutik,” Zutik! no. 19 (Aberri Eguna), Documentos Y, 3: 210–14; “Noticas del extranjero,” Zutik Berriak, 08.05. 1964, Documentos Y, 3: 334. ETA and the UDB were co-signatories to a December 1969 statement in support of Kurdish revolutionaries. See: “Comuniqué d’ETA, décembre 1969,” Documentos Y, 8: 303. 116 For example, see: “Noticias del extranjero,” Zutik! 13.03.1964, Documentos Y, 3: 326–27; “En la prensa extranjera,” Zutik! 30.05.1964, Documentos Y, 3: 337–38; “La prensa internacional comenta…,” Zutik! no. 44 (Caracas), Documentos Y, 3: 402–3. 117 “Noticias de Euzkadi,” Zutik Berriak, 30.09.1965, Documentos Y, 4: 142–43. 118 “Prologo al volumen III,” Documentos Y, 3: 3–4; Sullivan, ETA, 45, 59 (footnote 85); “Nota General a los informes entre el Comité Ejecutivo del Exterior y el Comité Ejecutivo de la organización. Años 1965–1966,” Documentos Y, 4: 394.

134  Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69) 119 “Federación ETA-Exterior,” Documentos Y, 4: 397–98. A once-off English edition of Zutik! was eventually produced on the occasion of the Aberri Eguna in 1968. See: Zutik! March 1968, Documentos Y, 7: 197–208. 120 “ETA-Atzerriko Alkartasuna (Erabakiak),” Documentos Y, 4: 407–9. 121 Jáuregui, “ETA: Orígenes.” 122 “Volumen III,” Documentos Y, 3: 3–4; Sullivan, ETA, 45–46. 123 Conversi, The Basques, 97–98; Luciano Rincón, ETA (1974–1984) (Barcelona: Plaza & Janes Editores, S.A. 1985), 86–92; Sullivan, ETA, 55–62. 124 Garmendia, “ETA: Nacimiento,” 127; Sullivan, ETA, 51. 125 “Del Pueblo Vasco,” Zutik! no. 20, Documentos Y, 3: 218. 126 “La evolución del imperialismo español en euzkadi,” Branka, no. 6, Documentos Y, 5: 306–21, specifically 310. For the description of Branka, see: “Federación ETA-Exterior,” Documentos Y, 4: 398. 127 White, Ó Brádaigh, 336. 128 Treacy, IRA, 29–32, 42. 129 Patterson, Illusion, 119; Treacy, IRA, 120–27. 130 For example, see: “Bretons Fear Common Market,” United Irishman, October 1967; “Welsh language movement sets the pace,” United Irishman, November 1967; “The Breton,” United Irishman, December 1967; “Free Wales Army,” United Irishman, March 1968; “Cultural Revolution in Wales,” United Irishman, May 1968; “Widespread arrests in Brittany,” United Irishman, April 1969; “Wales Defiled,” United Irishman, July 1969; “Appeal from Wales,” United Irishman, July 1969. 131 “We Remembered,” United Irishman, May 1966; Leach, Fugitive, 188, 196. 132 “The Breton from Bray who carved a career,” Irish Times, 04.09.1999. 133 Leach, Fugitive, 204. 134 Moloney, Secret History, 61–62. 135 Brian Dooley, Black and Green: The Fight for Civil Rights in Northern Ireland and Black America (Chicago: Pluto Press, 1998). 136 Moloney, Secret History, 42; Cruise O’Brien, Ancestral Voices (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), 157–58. 137 Niall Ó Dochartaigh, “What Did the Civil Rights Movement Want? Changing Goals and Underlying Continuities in the Transition from Protest to Violence,” in The Troubles in Northern Ireland and Theories of Social Movements, eds. Lorenzo Bosi and Gianluca de Fazio (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017), 33–52. 138 Chris Reynolds, “The Collective European Memory of 1968: The Case of Northern Ireland,” Etudes irlandaises 36, no. 1 (2011): 73–90; Muro, Ethnicity, 102–3; Treacy, IRA, 6, 132. 139 Cited in: Gerd Koenen, Das rote Jahrzehnt: Unsere kleine deutsche Kulturrevolution 1967–1977 (Frankfurt: Fischer Taschenbuch Verlag, 2002), 60–61. Many thanks to Adrián Almeida Díez for alerting me to this source. 140 Brian Hanley, “‘The needs of the people’: the IRA considers its future, 1967/68,” Saothar 38 (2013). 141 “Manifiesto,” Documentos Y, 7: 471–75. 142 Jesús Casquete, “Etxebarrieta, Txabi,” in Diccionario, eds. de Pablo et al., 270–81. 143 “Why we kill – by Basque terrorists,” Sunday Times, 11.08.1968. 144 Woodworth, Dirty War, 38. 145 Irvin, Militant, 68–69. 146 Joseph Ruane and Jennifer Todd, The Dynamics of Conflict in Northern Ireland: Power, Conflict and Emancipation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 128; “The Derry March Chronology of Events surrounding the March,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/derry/chron.htm, accessed 4 September 2019.

Towards a New Cycle of Relations (1946–69)  135 147 “The People’s Democracy March—Chronology of Main Events,” https://cain. ulster.ac.uk/events/pdmarch/chron.htm, accessed 4 September 2019. 148 Bew et al., Talking, 21–23; “Stormont General Election, 1969,” https://cain. ulster.ac.uk/issues/politics/election/rs1969.htm, accessed 17 April 2020. 149 “A Chronology of the Conflict—1969,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/othelem/chron/ ch69.htm, accessed 4 September 2019. 150 Jonathan Tonge, Northern Ireland: Conflict and Change (Harlow: Pearson Education, 2002), 39. 151 Treacy, The IRA, 14. 152 Peter Taylor, Provos: The IRA and Sinn Féin (London: Bloomsbury, 1998), 45– 55; White, Ashes, 56–61; “The Taoiseach on the situation in the North, 1969,” www.rte.ie/archives/exhibitions/1042-northern-ireland-1969/1048-­a ugust1969/320416-broadcast-by-an-taoiseach/, accessed 29 November 2022. 153 Sinn Féin Árd Fheis Clar 1968, Tony Heffernan Papers [THP], P108/3, UCDA. 154 Roy H.W. Johnston, Century of Endeavour: A biographical & autobiographical view of the Twentieth Century in Ireland, rev. ed. (Dublin: Tyndall Publications/ Lilliput Press, 2006), 233. 155 Author interview with Eduardo “Teo” Uriarte, 2016. 156 Núñez Seixas, Patriotas, 111–18. 157 William A. Douglas and Joseba Zulaika, “On the Interpretation of Terrorist Violence: ETA and the Basque Political Process,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 32, no. 2 (1990): 238–57.

5 ‘Are We Alone?’ From Revolutionaries on Tour to Last Revolutionaries Standing (1970–83)

For most of the 1960s, the ‘modernising’ (Goulding-Mac Giolla) leadership of the IRM sought to reorientate the republican movement towards grassroots social agitation within the southern state. This trajectory was generally resisted by a ‘traditionalist’ sector within Sinn Féin and the IRA. The explosion of violence on the streets of Derry and Belfast in August 1969, however, suddenly demanded that all attention rapidly pivot towards the North.1 As presciently noted the following month in United Irishman: “After 1969 things will never be the same in Ulster”.2 When the dust finally settled on the events of August 1969, accusations that the southern-based leadership of the IRM had left nationalist Belfast defenceless in its hour of need exacerbated tensions between the modernising and traditionalist factions.3 An IRA Convention was called for December. Pre-empting the convention, Cathal Goulding moved to convince most of the IRA’s leadership to approve a radical shift in policy that would see Sinn Féin drop its long-held policy of abstention from the Dublin, Belfast and London parliaments. Although such a departure would arguably discard the republican principle of IRA legitimacy emanating directly from the de jure Irish Republic of 1919, Goulding and his comrades appealed for the change on tactical grounds. Put to IRA members at the 1969 convention, the motion was passed by 39 votes to 12. Crucially, however, a sizeable minority walked out in protest at the outcome.4 Those who rejected the shift in policy immediately set up a ‘Provisional’ Army Executive. Seán Mac Stiofáin, an English-born former Royal Air Force corporal became the ‘Provisional’ IRA’s (PIRA) first Chief of Staff. A similar schism occurred the following month in Sinn Féin between a ‘Provisional’ faction that opposed Goulding’s attempt to remove abstention and an ‘Official’ tendency that backed the radical proposal. In the wake of this second split, Ruairí Ó Brádaigh became the first president of what would become known as ‘Provisional’ Sinn Féin (PSF). On the other side of the divide, Tomás Mac Giolla continued in his role as President of ‘Official’ Sinn Féin (OSF).5 Finally, in a propaganda boon to the ‘Provisionals’, Thomas Maguire, the last surviving member of the seven anti-Anglo-Irish Treaty TDs that had handed over the mandate of the Irish Republic (1919) to the IRA in 1938, rejected DOI: 10.4324/9781003368045-5

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  137 the ‘Officials’’ dropping of abstentionism. For Maguire, the mandate of the de jure Irish Republic now resided “in the Provisional Army Council and its lawful successors”.6 ETA similarly struggled to maintain its organisational and ideological coherency at the turn of the decade. In August 1970, in the French-Basque town of Itsasu, the group convened its first assembly since the killings of Pardines, Etxebarrieta and Manzanas two years previously. Echoing many of the same issues that had prefaced ETA’s first major split in 1966, multiple factions had once again emerged in the organisation: an anti-colonial, tercermundista front broadly grouped around Madariaga and Krutwig; a ‘mili’ contingent committed to armed struggle; a communist obrerista (workerist) sector on the Basque interior (disparaged as españolistas by its opponents within ETA); and a fourth strand, the exiled Células Rojas (Red Cells).7 Shortly prior to ETA’s Sixth Assembly, the recent split in the Irish republican movement between the modernisers and traditionalists was referenced by the españolista-critical Federico Krutwig (under the pseudonym of F. Sarrailh Ihartza) and P. Zugasti. Drawing parallels from Quebec, Puerto Rico and Ireland, the two men warned of traitorous elements who deceive with their “revisionist” and “conceptualist” ideas: These ‘internationalist’ splits of men incapable of conceiving anything new than what their ‘ideologues’ have been preaching for half a century without any success, want to see their ‘ideas’ triumph whatever it takes, even if they have to destroy the nature of the liberation movements. They are like a virus. Not dissimilar to the IRA’s September 1968 instruction “to investigate the possibility of obtaining arms and finance unconditionally” from “underground revolutionary groups”, Krutwig and Zugasti also encouraged the idea of external collaboration with “genuine” liberation movements: In view of the fact the Basque national liberation struggle is revolutionary, ETA and Euskal Herria consider that they have the right to accept assistance offered to them for such combat, whatever its origin may be […] ETA should express its complete solidarity with the other genuine liberation movements (nationalities who fight with arms for their liberation, namely: Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, Bangledesh, Dhofar, Somalia, the Portuguese colonies, IRA, FLQ).8 Crippled by ideological tensions, ETA split in Itsasu. Unlike the striking ‘walkout’ that had occurred within the Irish republican movement only months earlier, the decisive moment in ETA’s schism lacked the same adversarial drama. Citing the alleged españolismo of the workerist sector, the milis and tercermundistas simply decided not to attend, with the exception of Julen Madariaga, who acted as a sort of “antenna”. Subsequently condemned

138  Revolutionaries (1970–83) as factionalists, the milis and tercermundistas were officially expelled from ETA by the sixth assembly participants. Responding in kind, the milis and tercermundistas dismissed the sixth assembly adherents via ETA’s Biltzar Ttipia (Little Assembly)—an entity that had been elected during ETA’s Fifth Assembly to provide political oversight of the organisation’s executive. The Red Cells left the organisation of their own accord. Emerging from the multi-layered split, the milis-tercermundistas regathered, and alongside the ‘culturalists’ that orbited Txillardegi’s Branka, vowed to uphold the principles of ETA’s Fifth Assembly. This earned them the name ETA-V. Similarly, the sixth assembly participants, who at this stage still represented the majority of ETA members, became known as ETA-VI.9 As the tensions and splits in this introduction signpost, the largely congruent emergence of political violence in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country circa 1968/69 heralded an era of internecine battles in both political cultures, and extreme flux in each case context. With 1960s revolutionary rhetoric giving way to the knotty reality of maintaining ideological and organisational coherence, radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations were often influenced, guided, provoked and constrained by constantly changing Basque and (Northern) Irish case dynamics. Although what follows may occasionally appear as excessively entangled, it is only by working through this complexity that the key questions regarding radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations from this period may be addressed. The Burgos Trial and Belfast Ablaze The Burgos Trial

Are we alone? We continue to be persecuted, tortured, imprisoned […] Are we alone? In a certain sense, yes; in another sense, no.10 (Zutik! [Caracas], 1970) Among the adherents to ETA-VI were those accused of implication in the 1968 killing of Melitón Manzanas. With a military trial set to take place in Burgos and tensions in the Basque Country running high, ETA-V raised the stakes further by kidnapping the West German Honorary Consul in San Sebastián, Eugen Beihl, on 1 December 1970. As the drama of the ‘Burgos Trial’/Eugen Beihl kidnapping played out, “the whole world turned its eyes to the Basque people and ETA”.11 In London, a series of Basque nationalist/Spanish republican protests that had begun outside the Spanish Embassy in November grew steadily throughout December. At the height of the demonstrations, Spanish flags were set alight and live ammunition fired at the ambassador’s private residence from a passing car. Meanwhile, in nearby St Martin’s-in-the-Fields on Trafalgar Square, two British-based Basques, Juan Manuel Echevarría (an alleged ETA member) and Pedro Ignacio Pérez Beotegui (Wilson) (a future ETA member), began a hunger strike. Both men had recently been given suspended sentences

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  139 for having thrown Molotov cocktails at the Spanish Embassy.12 Across the Irish Sea in Dublin, an ‘Irish Basque Committee’ was formed following a meeting at Liberty Hall attended by an assortment of “trade unionists, Republicans, socialists, students and youth leaders”.13 Among the notable members of the committee were the aforementioned Breton nationalist Yann Goulet, Michael O’Riordan, a prominent Irish communist and Spanish Civil War veteran, and Con Lehane, a member of the IRA’s Army Council in the 1930s and former Clann na Poblachta TD.14 Despite Beihl being released unharmed by his captors on Christmas Eve, six of the Burgos Trial defendants were sentenced to death some 72 hours later, provoking a major international backlash. Over the next two days, official complaints were lodged by various Western states, hundreds of EEC (European Economic Community) employees staged a silent protest, and demonstrations and riots broke out in several major European cities. Through the heavy-handedness of the regime, ETA had managed to garner the attention and moral support of those opposed to Francoism, prominent figures of the international left, and democrats more broadly in Spain and elsewhere.15 For the moment at least, ETA was seemingly ‘not alone’. Back in London, on the same evening that the death sentences were announced, a four-kilometre “night march” and vigil culminated outside the Spanish Embassy. As songs were sung in Basque, English and Spanish, some of the marchers, “armed with cans of soup”, reportedly “barred themselves in the flat of Bernadette Devlin”, which was nearby. Devlin, a well-known political activist and MP from Tyrone, had apparently “given permission by telephone for her flat to be used as the headquarters for the demonstration”. Also among the marchers were members of the Irish National Liberation Solidarity Front, a campaign group set up by the Communist Workers League of Britain (Marxist-Leninist) in 1969.16 Rather than arm himself with “cans of soup”, Manuel Irujo sent a telegram on behalf of “Basques in England” to the former British Prime Minister and then Secretary of State for Commonwealth and Foreign Affairs, Alec Douglas-Home. Irujo requested that the British Government plead clemency for the Burgos condemned.17 Responding to the military court’s decision, in Dublin, the newly formed Irish Basque Committee published a statement calling the death sentences “a slap in the face to all those who believed in justice and who were hoping that common sense and Christian charity would prevail”. For its part, the Irish Government indicated that an approach had been made to the Spanish authorities through diplomatic channels.18 Finally, Official Sinn Féin President Tomás Mac Giolla reportedly sent the following telegram to Enbata, a minor Basque nationalist grouping/publication based in the French-Basque town of Bayonne: Sinn Féin pledge their solidarity with you in your struggle for justice for Basque patriots in Spanish jails. The Irish people who have suffered

140  Revolutionaries (1970–83) injustice and oppression from British imperialism look forward to the day when the Basque and Irish peoples have achieved full nationhood.19 On 30 December 1970, the Burgos death sentences were commuted to lengthy incarceration. As a United Irishman opinion piece on the trial noted, “tremendous world pressure” had ultimately swayed Franco to overturn the death sentences. Incidentally, the British Daily Express ran a story the following month claiming that the real “Basque assassin” of Manzanas was, in fact, “safe and studying in Britain”.20 The Burgos Trial was a watershed moment in the history of ETA. Not necessarily au fait with the schisms that had recently split the hitherto almost completely unknown Basque paramilitaries into ETA-V and ETA-VI factions, the simple, generic label of ‘ETA’ tended to dominate international media coverage of the trial, the Beihl kidnapping and the fallout from the death sentences. To a great extent, ETA and the Basque Country had become inextricably linked. Moreover, as knowledge of ETA became more pronounced in the Anglophone world throughout the 1970s, parallels and comparisons drawn between the political cultures of radical Basque nationalism and Irish republicanism, as well as speculation around possible transnational links, became increasingly noticeable. As we shall see throughout the rest of this chapter, such parallels, comparisons and speculation were not only utilised by Spanish, British and Irish media outlets to sell newspapers; they were also provoked by the movements themselves. Belfast Ablaze

It is a matter of historical fact that the events of August 1969 provided the catalyst for the emergence of the IRA onto the streets of Belfast. In other words, the raison d’etre of provisional republicanism was, initially, the defence of local Catholic/nationalist communities from Protestant/loyalist attacks.21 Although many of those who would become leaders of the PIRA had their roots in the city’s republican core, pre-“Troubles” Belfast was categorically not a hothouse of Irish republicanism. Post-1969, however, this began to change. Encapsulated in a number of infamous incidents, it was frequently the heavy-handed approach of the British security forces that swelled the ranks of both the PIRA and Official IRA (OIRA) beyond their republican core in the early 1970s (e.g., ‘Falls Curfew’, ‘Ballymurphy Massacre’, ‘Internment without Trial’). Perhaps most significantly, the killing of 13 unarmed civilians by British paratroopers in Derry in January 1972 (‘Bloody Sunday’) provoked widespread outrage at the British Government internationally and from every shade of Irish nationalism and republicanism, North and South.22 Drawing on the contentious and often hostile presence of the RUC and British Army in nationalist neighbourhoods, the PIRA would gradually seek to harness the grievances of the local population in order to leverage towards

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  141 traditional Irish nationalist/republican demands: a reunified and independent Ireland. To this end, two preliminary objectives were earmarked by the Provisionals. These were, in no particular order, the “smashing” of the unionistdominated Parliament of Northern Ireland at Stormont Castle in Belfast, and the forcing of Britain into a “withdrawal” from Ireland (or at least a commitment to one).23 Seeking to ratchet up pressure on the British State and gradually moving from a defensive position in its heartlands of Belfast to a more offensive posture across Northern Ireland from 1970 to 1972, the PIRA’s primary dayto-day motivation became the deliberate targeting of the British Army and RUC.24 On 12 August 1970, Samuel Donaldson and Robert Millar became the first members of the RUC killed by the PIRA when both men died due to injuries sustained by a booby-trapped car bomb that had exploded the previous day in Crossmaglen. On 6 February 1971, 20-year-old Robert Curtis from Newcastle-upon-Tyne was the first British soldier to be killed by the PIRA when he died during a gun battle in Belfast. Following Curtis’ death, Northern Ireland Prime Minister, Chichester-Clark, announced on television that “Northern Ireland is at war with the Irish Republican Army Provisionals”.25 By the end of 1972, over 30,000 British Army personnel were stationed in Northern Ireland to fight this “war”. Moreover, whether as a result of deliberate shootings, bombings, stray bullets, beatings or inter-communal sectarian violence carried out by members of the PIRA, the OIRA, the British Army, the RUC, the Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR) or the loyalist groups of the UVF and Ulster Defence Association (UDA), as many as 725 people had already died since the start of the “Troubles”. A total of 496 people lost their lives in 1972 alone—historically the most violent year of the conflict. Citing the increasing spectre of full-scale civil war, in May 1972, the OIRA declared a ceasefire whilst maintaining a right to self-defence.26 Amid the carnage of 1972, the PIRA achieved one of its two preliminary objectives when, in March, the British Government suspended the unionistdominated Parliament of Northern Ireland. A few months later, the PIRA’s demand for British “withdrawal” was communicated in face-to-face talks between the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, William Whitelaw, and a republican delegation in London. Accompanying Seán Mac Stiofáin to the English capital were senior PIRA figures Dáithí Ó Conaill, Seamus Twomey and Ivor Bell, alongside two young, upcoming republicans from Belfast and Derry respectively: Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness.27 Shortly after the London talks had broken down and a temporary truce between the two sides lapsed, the PIRA detonated at least 20 bombs in the space of 75 minutes in the heart of Belfast on 21 July 1972, killing nine civilians. ‘Bloody Friday’ was the first major indiscriminate attack by the PIRA, provoking a significant public backlash. The PIRA’s promised ‘Year of Victory’ (1972) ultimately failed to materialise, and the “Troubles” grimly wore on.28

142  Revolutionaries (1970–83) Active Solidarity Insofar as ‘separatism’ is likely to be one of the main threats to the stability of a future Spanish regime […] HMG [Her Majesty’s Government], like other Western Governments are going to have to take up some sort of a position about Basque and Catalan irredentism […] I think we are bound to view it with disfavour; and we shall have to be careful to resist the efforts of those concerned to cash in on the aftermath of the Burgos trials.29 (Confidential note by an FCO official, 1 February 1971) The Burgos Trial of December 1970 prised open a new international vista for ETA, or for what was, in reality, two separate organisations: ETA-V and ETA-VI. Post-Burgos, the numerically superior ETA-VI dedicated itself to building a mass revolutionary political movement; however, despite establishing a modest presence in factories and local assemblies, ETA-VI quickly fractured into Trotskyist and communist tendencies. Bolstered by an influx of disillusioned ETA-VI members (‘minos’) and dissident EGI militants (EGI-Batasuna), ETA-V would prove to be far more resilient.30 In addition to the organisation’s domestic activities, ETA-V was also seemingly eager to “cash in on the aftermath of the Burgos trials” (in the words of the above British FCO [Foreign & Commonwealth Office] official). Within a month of the suspended death sentences, a proposal to “[i]nitiate a genuine internationalist policy [...] on both sides of the border, entering concretely into contact with all the forces that today accept our Right to SelfDetermination” was suggested in a document written by a group of ETA-V ‘Milis izquierdistas’ (left-wing militants).31 That same month, a statement was issued by the ‘Central Command of the Iraqi Communist Party’ from the Yemeni city of Aden on 15 January. Reproduced here for the first time, one of the signatories to this statement was a group calling itself “The Basque National Liberation Movement”. This “movement”, alongside several other revolutionary groups, affirmed the following in clunky English: In view of the fact that the following organisations consider the present struggle in Northern Ireland as a struggle for liberation and progressivism, and not a sectarian struggle as described by imperialist news agencies. Moreover, they consider the Irish cause as that of a persecuted people struggling against British imperialism and its allied ruling classes, as analysed by Lenin in his well-known essay about the right of nations to decide their own fates. That is why these organisations: (1) Strongly denounce the means of suppression and terrorism used by the British occupation forces and the Fascist British organisations in Northern Ireland against Irish citizens (2) hail the Irish Republican Army which is launching an armed struggle for the completion of the national

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  143 democratic revolution in the South and the liberation of the occupied Northern Ireland. These organisations appreciate the attitude of the [Irish Republican] army in connection with its support of the revolution in Southern Yemen, Palestine and the Arab occupied Gulf and (3) express their full cooperation with the struggle of the Irish people for the liquidation of the old British imperialism in the North and the new colonialism in the South, and the establishment of a unified, socialist, independent Irish Republic. Affirmed by a near A-to-Z of contemporary liberation movements, it is difficult to assert with absolute certainty which “Basque National Liberation Movement” signed the ‘Aden Statement’ of January 1971 (probably ETA-V), or which IRA (‘Provisional’ or ‘Official’) is being referred to.32 Nonetheless, the Aden Statement represents, to my knowledge, the very first public comment from ETA regarding the “Troubles” and the IRA’s role in that conflict. Others would soon follow. Four months later, on May Day 1971, a combined three-way communique was penned by the “IRA – P. O’Neill, Runai [Secretary]”, a Breton “FLB/ ARB – Delegación Exterior [Foreign Delegation]” and an “ETA – Delegación Exterior [Foreign Delegation]”.33 Unlike the previous Aden Statement, there is no doubt that the IRA referred to in the ‘May Day Communique’ of 1971 is that of the PIRA, given that the signatory “P. O’Neill” has long been used by the Provisional IRA as a sort of collective nom de guerre. Briefly referred to in the previous chapter, the self-styled “Delegación Exterior of the FLB/ ARB” was Yann Goulet, the exiled Breton nationalist who, wanted by the French State for Nazi collaboration, lived just outside Dublin and whose “letterbox” operated as the hub of the FLB’s international relations. While maintaining close relations with Irish republicans, Goulet developed a reputation for having a rather creative imagination when it came to his supposed command of Breton revolutionary activities.34 As the reader will recall, he was also involved in the Irish Basque Committee that formed around the time of the Burgos Trial. For these reasons, it is quite plausible—albeit impossible to say for certain—that the communique was affirmed in Ireland and that Goulet was its most likely coordinator. Where ETA fits into this equation is more difficult to tell, considering that all of the organisation’s pre-sixth assembly contacts and links with Breton nationalists seem to have been primarily centred around the UDB. Regardless of how ETA, the PIRA and the FLB/ARB ended up collaborating on the May Day Communique of 1971, the text presented a united front in condemning the “national” and “social” oppression of their nations by Madrid, London and Paris, and by the forces of European capitalism. As a means of resistance, the three organisations called for “ACTIVE SOLIDARITY” between all oppressed peoples. [T]his repression in particular affects the socialist movements of national liberation ETA, FLB and IRA, which are the vanguard of struggle.

144  Revolutionaries (1970–83) Faced with the union of European capitalism in the Common Market in order to repress the struggle of the workers, small traders, intellectuals, etc., we call for ACTIVE SOLIDARITY of all the oppressed peoples, as well as the revolutionary and democratic militants and organisations of Europe to support our just aspirations for national and social liberation, through mass struggle and armed struggle until total victory.35 In addition to “ACTIVE SOLIDARITY” between their peoples, the Basque, Irish and Breton movements could perhaps provide indicative lessons for each other in their respective ‘struggles’. To this end, a March 1972 dossier on the “Troubles” and the IRA was “published by ETA for all its militants as a medium for their knowledge of the Irish problem and for the verification of its similarities and differences with the Basque problem”.36 On 3 April 1972, P. O’Neill, the fictitious secretary of the Provisionals’ Irish Republican Publicity Bureau and representatives of ETA and the FLB/ ARB issued another joint communique. Written in French and seemingly signed in the very unrepublican-sounding territory of “Irlande du Nord” (Northern Ireland), this second communique called for a boycott of an upcoming referendum due to take place in France on enlargement of the EEC. Two months later and presumably stemming from the joint statement, a French left-wing periodical Politique Hebdo claimed that the PIRA, ETA and FLB had established some sort of alliance.37 Before the year had ended, a more concise and updated version of the January 1971 Aden Statement was printed in Paris. This time, the Basque signatory was clearly stated as “The Revolutionary Basque Movement for National Liberation ETA”. In this new ‘Manifeste de soutien à I’IRA’ (Manifesto in support of the IRA), ETA, the FLB and 12 other groups sent their “military greetings to the glorious Irish Republican Army (IRA), which is waging armed struggle to carry through the tasks of the national democratic revolution in Southern Ireland and [to] liberate the North”.38 Despite the jointly issued Irish-Basque-Breton communiques of 1971 and 1972, and ETA-signed statements of solidarity in support of the PIRA’s campaign for Irish ‘liberation’, none of these statements or communiques were ever published in the Provisional IRM’s main propaganda organs (An Phoblacht in Dublin; Republican News in Belfast), nor had either periodical reported on or even referred to the Burgos Trial of December 1970. Indeed, as far as I can tell, from the beginning of 1970 to the end of 1972, there were only two brief mentions of the Basques across the entire international coverage of the Provisional IRM: one mention in connection to an article on Scottish Gaelic; the other, in dual condemnation of left- and right-wing dictatorships in Poland and Spain.39 For the moment, there was clearly little store put into communicating the type of “ACTIVE SOLIDARITY” called for in the 1971 May Day Communique. Of course, this is not to suggest that more covert relations were not incrementally developing between ETA and the PIRA at the same time.

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  145 To Take Arms

Following the republican movement’s split across the winter of 1969/1970, the PIRA immediately sought arms and funding via long-standing connections with sympathetic Irish diasporic communities in the USA and Britain. Moving PIRA operations onto a more offensive footing, however, would require new lines of arms procurement. As early as 1971, PIRA leaders were scouring continental Europe in search of high-calibre weaponry.40 In early 1972, a meeting was apparently held between the Provisionals and a group of Bretons. According to the journalist and author Ed Moloney, the Bretons suggested at the meeting that Colonel Muammar Gadaffi’s Libyan regime could perhaps assist in meeting the military needs of the PIRA’s campaign. As Moloney explains in A Secret History of the IRA, a long and fruitful PIRA-Libyan relationship thus began. Elsewhere, it has been suggested that Yann Goulet acted as the “go between” between the PIRA and Gadaffi’s regime.41 Later that summer, the PIRA’s search for arms extended to Algeria, where a consignment of RPG 7 rocket launchers was secured. The investigative journalist Martin Dillon suggests that “the crucial connections [for this deal] were initially made with the Basque separatist movement ETA, which already had a well-established arms-supply route to the Middle East”.42 Possible Irish-Breton-Basque links aside, nearly all alleged PIRA-ETA arms connections in the early 1970s stem from an alternative source: the former ‘Provo’ Maria McGuire’s memoir To Take Arms (1972).43 In To Take Arms, McGuire claimed to have “spent a year working with the Provisional IRA” before leaving in the summer of 1972 in disgust at the Bloody Friday attacks and Seán Mac Stiofáin’s ruthless control over the organisation. Mac Stiofáin, for his part, stated that McGuire was “never a member of the IRA except in her own dramatic imagination”. McGuire’s descriptions of the inner workings of the IRA leadership naturally caught headlines. In her memoir, the Dubliner also recounted a meeting that purportedly took place in Ireland between a republican delegation and “two groups, one French and one Spanish, from the Basque resistance movement ETA”. According to McGuire, the Basques offered 50 revolvers in exchange for training in the use of explosives, which from her account, can be inferred as gelignite.44 Although McGuire does not specify when the alleged meeting took place, given her timeline of PIRA activity and a contemporary newspaper interview in which she states: “Just before I left, I was translating some business correspondence between ourselves and a Basque underground group who wanted to give us revolvers in exchange for training”, it is likely to have occurred during the first half of 1972.45 It was probably McGuire’s claims which led Sean O’Callaghan, a PIRA member turned intelligence agent, to state in his own memoir (published in 1999) that as far back as 1972, “ETA supplied the IRA with weapons.

146  Revolutionaries (1970–83) The accounts of what was supplied differ but not the fact of it”.46 Echoing McGuire’s claims once again, a London-based ‘Institute for the Study of Terrorism’ published a report in 1988 which asserted that in 1972 a number of ETA terrorists visited Ireland to update themselves on IRA tactics and bomb-making techniques. Further arms deals were arranged and shortly afterwards ETA supplied a consignment of explosives to the Provisional IRA in exchange for M-16 rifles. Despite McGuire not specifically naming any Basques in her memoir, the same report went on to state: According to McGuire, Jose Echebarrieta [José Antonio Etxebarrieta], one of ETA’s senior commanders, had made the deal with Sean MacStiofan [Mac Stiofán], the then chief IRA Chief of Staff during two secret visits to Dublin.47 According to a 1975 article in the Irish Times, it would appear as though José Antonio Etxebarrieta, the former EGI comrade of Iker Gallastegi and ETA intellectual, did indeed make two visits to Ireland in 1972. Etxebarrieta was said to have held meetings at the offices of both Sinn Féin factions. Whether motivated by the supposed ‘revolvers-for-training-in-explosives’ exchange or perhaps wishing to demonstrate equal sensitivities to the bitter provisional and official republican rivals, as far as I can tell, there would appear to be no further details regarding Etxebarrieta’s alleged trip in the public realm.48 Finally, a 1984 Spanish Government dossier on ETA’s international contacts also referred to an ETA-IRA meeting held in 1972, only this time the setting was said to have been in London: “an agreement was reached to send four ETA militants to train in Ulster camps and a permanent representative in Ireland to maintain contact with the IRA”.49 While the internationalisation of ETA via the Burgos Trial and the congruent emergence of political violence in both contexts may have laid the foundations for initial contacts and relations between radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans in the early 1970s (a relationship categorically evidenced in the aforementioned joint statements), it is far more challenging to verify the alleged 1971/1972 ETA-PIRA arms interactions and claims referenced in this section, many of which were made and/or repeated without supporting evidence years or even decades later. Revolutionaries on Tour As the PIRA’s military campaign moved onto the front foot in the early 1970s, the nascent Provisional Sinn Féin (illegal in the North and still maintaining Sinn Féin’s long-held policy of abstention in the South) was putting the finishing touches to its first comprehensive policy document. Launched

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  147 in 1971 as a sort of halfway house between the capitalist West and socialist East, Éire Nua (New Ireland) articulated a political, social and economic vision around radical participatory forms of local government and cooperative ownership of natural resources and industry. Éire Nua also proposed a federal-provincial solution to Irish partition.50 Given the party’s position on abstention and the PIRA’s ongoing armed campaign, PSF’s domestic agenda was, in many ways, almost entirely defined by Éire Nua throughout Ruairí Ó Brádaigh’s tenure as party president (1970–83). Aside from promoting the merits of Éire Nua domestically, PSF was keen to externalise the IRM’s struggle beyond traditional republican supporters in the Irish diaspora. At the party’s October 1973 Ard Fheis, an International Office was unanimously backed by delegates. Richard Behal, a former IRA member of lore, was tasked with running affairs from Brussels. In terms of propaganda, Behal’s main brief was to counter prevailing international perceptions of the “Troubles” as an intra-Irish conflict: “We needed international contacts to counter the British saying it was a Catholic versus Protestant medieval conflict. It wasn’t. It was colonial”.51 With “a small amount of money”, Behal became “a sort of roving ambassador” for the PSF on the continent. Alongside Ó Brádaigh and another republican, Seán Keenan, Behal would go on to establish connections with Basque, Breton, Catalan, Kurdish, Palestinian, Scottish and Welsh nationalists, with Ó Brádaigh’s long-held affinity towards the stateless nations of Europe guiding much of the party’s approach on international matters.52 Around the same time PSF’s International Office was set up, a joint statement signed by the PIRA and ETA, published in Hautsi, strongly condemned the EEC and its alignment with capitalism whilst defending armed struggle “as the only way to achieve our objectives”: We intend to carry out direct armed struggle against the apparatus of occupation and exploitation of the oppressor states as the only way to achieve our objectives. The only thing that moves us to this is the full conviction that otherwise we will not obtain the answer to the problem posed by our concrete existence as nationally and socially oppressed peoples. FOR A EUROPEAN SOCIETY OF FREE AND CLASSLESS PEOPLES. FOR A UNITED AND SOCIALIST EUROPE.53 Citing a Spanish report, Eli Karmon suggests that cooperation “attained a peak in 1973, when ETA militants trained in Northern Ireland, IRA specialists in explosives came to the Basque Country and the two organizations published a common statement in September”—the final detail in reference to the ‘Hautsi Statement’.54 Going beyond joint PIRA-ETA statements of the kind published in Hautsi (the third in as many years) and Maria McGuire’s 1972 claims, the real

148  Revolutionaries (1970–83) catalyst for speculation around possible PIRA-ETA links was the latter’s assassination of the Spanish Prime Minister, Admiral Luis Carrero, in Madrid, on 20 December 1973. Killed by explosives detonated beneath his passing car, Carrero was Franco’s most trusted right-hand man. Within hours of Carrero’s death, the Irish Embassy had received a phone call from a Madrid-based newspaper. The journalist wanted to know whether the ambassador, Brian Gallagher, had granted asylum to a wanted Irish man. Writing to his superiors in Dublin three days later, Gallagher remarked: “We replied of course that there was no truth whatsoever in this rumour. I suppose the thing must have been due to some crazy idea that the IRA, the Embassy and ETA were likely to be working together”.55 An Irish hypothesis around the assassination quickly emerged in the media. On 27 December, The Times (London) reported that representatives of the IRA had sold a quantity of plastic explosives to ETA. Allegedly sourced from Sweden, these explosives were said to have been transported to an ETA cell in Toulouse in France and then smuggled over the border. Other reports speculated that explosives had been exchanged between the two groups in Andorra a few months earlier. Days after these newspaper reports, ETA held a press conference in Bordeaux in the south of France. During the media gathering, an ETA spokesperson reportedly confirmed that the organisation had been in contact with both the PIRA and OIRA, and on more than one occasion. Adding to the speculation, on 8 January, the Breton FLB chipped in with a statement expressing “solidarity with the ETA and IRA fighters, which we help and which help us”.56 Given the speculation around ETA-PIRA cooperation and rumours circulating in the British press of relations between ETA and Muammar Gadaffi’s regime in Libya, the Spanish Minister Counsellor, Manuel Gómez Acebo, put his concerns to an FCO official. The British official reported his response to Gómez Acebo as the following: I replied that I did not know [about Libya’s links with ETA], though I believed it to be true that Col [Gadaffi] had assisted the IRA. I would see whether HMG had any information on the subject. If we had, it might be preferable to pass it to the Spaniards through intelligence, rather than diplomatic channels.57 On 20 January, exactly one month after the assassination, an article by Irish journalist (and later, renowned historian) Dermot Keogh appeared in the Madrid daily Informaciones. In the piece, Keogh quoted “an important member of the Military Council of the IRA” as confirming the organisation to be “in continuous and ever more important contacts with ETA”. Speculating on the genesis of ETA-PIRA contacts, Keogh suggested that they may have been established via PIRA member Dolours Price during an “international revolutionary socialist conference” held in Milan in early 1972. Finally, Keogh speculated that “ETA probably received instructions from the ‘Provos’ in

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  149 handling explosives. The car bomb is a ‘Provo’ speciality and this technique has been used already in the Basque provinces”.58 A week later, there was a new angle to the ETA-PIRA rumours. The Irish Press reported that ETA may have paid ten million pesetas to a former explosives expert of the French Legion to mastermind the Carrero assassination. Impressed by the clinical nature of the attack, the PIRA had allegedly decided to enlist the shadowy figure for their own military operations.59 Various other reports attesting to PIRA-ETA relations did the rounds throughout 1974. In January, The Daily Telegraph pinpointed a Britishbased Basque monk named Elias Jauregui as a possible “contact between the IRA and ETA”.60 On 11 April, an interview published in the German weekly magazine Der Spiegel quoted an ETA spokesperson as stating that his organisation had “good, very good relations with the IRA”.61 In July, an article in the Irish Times referred to a planned meeting in Edinburgh between three members of ETA and two members of the PIRA’s ‘Belfast Brigade’. Ostensibly arranged by the Fourth International, the ETA-PIRA rendezvous was said to have been cancelled at the last minute when ETA came under pressure from “Left-wing leaders of the British National Union of mineworkers”.62 In July, Ruairí Ó Brádaigh and Richard Behal were said to have crossed paths with a Basque delegation at an International Conference of Minorities that took place in the Italian alpine region of Trieste.63 More than likely related to this conference, a joint statement of solidarity signed by Provisional Sinn Féin, ETA, and a number of other European nationalist organisations emerged three months later. Originally written in the Piedmontese and Italian languages, the statement read: We, assembled representatives of oppressed nations and peoples of western Europe, declare that we have the same aims and hopes: the complete liberation—political, cultural and social—of our peoples in a new co-operating Europe. We declare our solidarity with each other and hereby resolve to exchange with each other all information relating to our struggle, and to assist each other in the fight.64 Lastly, a Spanish radio report on 11 October 1974 claimed that a consignment of ETA’s arms had been loaded on board two ships in the FrenchBasque town of Bayonne. The arms were apparently bound for Cork in the south of Ireland. A subsequent police search of the ships proved negative.65 Despite all the speculation around possible ETA-PIRA links, there was no trace of any Irish hypothesis in the most-detailed account of the planning and execution of the attack on Admiral Carrero: Operación Ogro. Cómo y por qué ejecutamos a Carrero Blanco (Operation Ogre. How and Why We Executed Carrero Blanco), written by Eva Forest, a Partido Comunista de España (PCE, Communist Party of Spain) dissident and published under the pseudonym “Julen Aguirre”. Rumours of US involvement in the assassination of Carrero were also commonplace. Despite speculation of this kind, it is

150  Revolutionaries (1970–83) generally accepted that the attack was carried out by an ETA cell (Txikia) operating from the Spanish capital and with no external assistance.66 That the PIRA had no hand in ETA’s most spectacular attack, in a sense, mattered little. There was already enough press speculation, innuendo, claims and joint statements (May Day Communique of 1971, Irlande du Nord Statement of 1972, Hautsi Statement of 1973, Piedmontese Statement of 1974) between 1970 and late 1974 to have planted the perception of a symbiotic relationship between ETA and PIRA in the minds of the public and in the Irish, British and Spanish media. Even Franco had shown a keen interest in the IRA during a meeting with the new Irish Ambassador to Spain, Charles V. Whelan, in July 1974.67 From early 1971 to late 1974, ETA and the provisional republican movement developed an undetermined (and perhaps forever undeterminable) level of contacts and cooperation ranging somewhere along the continuum from fraternal statements of solidarity to exchanges in weaponry and explosives training. This was not quite the full story, however. As the following section illustrates, intermittent contacts and relations between radical Basque nationalists and the official republican movement were also developed over the same period. Our Fight is Your Fight. Your Fight is Our Fight

If it is true that José Antonio Etxebarrieta held meetings at the offices of the provisional and official factions of Sinn Féin in 1972, speaking to the respective republican groups, Etxebarrieta would have learnt that, unlike the Provisionals, their former comrades in the official movement believed that Northern Ireland’s institutions and security apparatus could be reformed. Guided by an explicitly Marxist ‘stageist’ analysis, reform was seen by the Officials as the first step towards the creation of a cross-­community, workingclass alliance. Only when sectarianism was overcome could the Irish working class, North and South, mobilise towards a united Ireland and socialist revolution. On international matters, Etxebarrieta may have noticed another substantial difference between the Provisionals and Officials: the latter’s explicit support for the socialist East.68 In April 1972, a full year before the PSF’s International Office was established, an International Secretariat was set up by Official Sinn Féin. According to United Irishman, which had remained in OSF hands after the ‘walkout’, the duty of the newly formed international body was “to keep in touch with fraternal organisations throughout the world and to keep them informed of developments in the Irish situation”.69 Malachy McGurran, Seán Ó Cionnaith and Eoin Ó Murchú made up the first secretariat. All three had sat on an extended OIRA Army Council in 1970, with McGurran holding the position of Northern Commander of the Army and Vice President of Official Sinn Féin.70 Of the original International Secretariat, Ó Murchú is the only surviving member. He recalls OSF’s International Secretariat as driven by two interrelated objectives: firstly, to develop relations with the “socialist countries” of

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  151 Eastern Europe; and secondly, “to establish links with militant leftist nationalist movements in Western Europe”.71 A month after the formation of the International Secretariat, in May 1972, United Irishman carried a report of a UDB conference held in Brittany, at which Ó Murchú spoke. Also in attendance were “observers from the Basque liberation movement, ETA” and the Galician Unión do Povo Galego (UPG, Galician People’s Union), a leftist revolutionary party that sought Galician self-determination.72 A resolution passed at the OSF Ard Fheis in January 1973 called for “the oppressed and colonised of the world”, including the Irish and Basques, to rise up together to smash imperialism. Later in the year, a “number of Basque students” reportedly travelled to Dublin “as guests of Official SF”.73 In February 1974, representatives from the Breton UDB, the Galician UPG and the “[Official] Irish Republican Movement” signed a text known in English as the ‘Brest Charter’ (or Charter of Brest) in the Breton town of the same name. The Brest Charter essentially advocated for the construction of a Europe of independent socialist states whilst affirming “the right of the oppressed people to respond to counter-revolutionary violence with revolutionary violence”. The representative who signed the charter on behalf of the [Official] Irish Republican Movement was Eoin Ó Murchú.74 Starting out with Breton, Galician and Irish signatories, the Brest Charter would soon have a Basque representative on board. In 1974, members of ETA’s cultural front spearheaded the formation of an underground political party under the name Euskal Alderdi Sozialista (EAS, Basque Socialist Party). Running almost concurrently on the French side of the border, a similar party called Herriko Alderdi Sozialista (HAS, Popular Socialist Party) was also formed. Only a few short weeks after the 1974 Brest Charter had been affirmed for the first time, HAS signalled its “adhesion” to the declaration.75 Akin to the joint communiques issued by the PIRA and ETA between 1971 and 1974 (often in conjunction with other European nationalist organisations), the Brest Charter, while big on rhetoric, carried little weight within the official republican movement. United Irishman did not publish or report on it, nor did the Officials view the charter as anything other than a declaration of broad revolutionary principles. As Ó Murchú admits himself: It was really a declaration of support for the right of nations to selfdetermination […] I would have to be honest and say while I was involved, I don’t think the movement here itself was too … how would I put it … they wouldn’t have put a lot of energy into it. A bigger focus was to establish links with Eastern Europe, with the Russians.76 Approaching the summer of 1974, details of an ‘Anti-Imperialist Festival’, to be held in Belfast and Dublin and attended by various revolutionary movements worldwide, began to appear in United Irishman. Organised in the main by Seán Ó Cionnaith, the objective of the festival would be to explain

152  Revolutionaries (1970–83) “the contribution of the Irish struggle to the general fight against imperialism” and to counter certain international narratives around the “Troubles”: There is the impression abroad in particular, that the fight in Ireland is solely a fight against British troops in the North whereas we have continuously emphasised that it must be a struggle of the whole Irish Nation against imperialism.77 Given the tinderbox political climate in Northern Ireland following the Sunningdale Agreement of December 1973, the Officials’ planned 1974 festival was, naturally, an unwelcome, additional headache for the British and Irish governments.78 In the British House of Commons, the Minister of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs, Roy Hattersley, informed the chamber that his office was “in touch with the authorities in the [Irish] Republic with a view to forestalling possible attempts by undesirable aliens to attend this meeting”.79 On 13 June, The Guardian reported that 105 prospective attendees had already sent a £10 registration fee. A Basque delegation was reportedly expected.80 In London, one FCO official doubted whether the Officials’ particular brand of Irish republicanism would be attractive to the Basque guests: Up to now the contacts of some of the other potential delegates to the Festival—notably the ‘separatists’ from France and Spain have been mainly with the Provisionals, and they may not therefore agree so readily with the line of the conference organisers. Another speculated that the real aim of the organisers (apart from publicity and embarrassment to us [London] and the Dublin Government) may well be to attract back to the Official Sinn Féin those extremists of the Left who have been transferring their support to the Provisional IRA.81 In the end, despite hostile media coverage and reports of attendees being harassed by authorities, there was little the British or Irish governments could do to stop the festival going ahead across late July/early August 1974.82 Under the slogan ‘Our fight is your fight. Your fight is our fight’, some 230 delegates (according to the Officials’ estimates) attended two weeks of discussions, workshops and lectures in Dublin and Belfast.83 Considering the festival to have been an “outstanding success”, a reflective editorial published in United Irishman highlighted “the real down to earth lectures and discussions” that took place in the homes of those who provided accommodation to the international attendees.84 Another United Irishman piece stated: “In particular, we were pleased to welcome our comrades from Wales, Brittany and Euzkadi”.85

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  153 Despite a handful of references to a Basque delegation, there is no clear evidence as to who may have represented “Euzkadi” at the festival. Given HAS’s recent “adhesion” to the Brest Charter, however, it is quite likely to have been a member of the ETA-centric, French-based radical Basque nationalist party. As we shall see later in this chapter, the Officials’ fitful contacts and relations with radical Basque nationalist elements would continue until late 1977. Two months after the Officials’ Anti-Imperial Festival, on 13 September 1974, a bomb planted by ETA in a Madrid café, Cafetería Rolando, killed 13 people and injured scores more. Apart from one police officer, all the mortal victims were civilians.86 ETA’s Madrid café bombing would prove decisive in accelerating an already widening gulf between those in the organisation who advocated for the construction of a combined political-military movement (in anticipation of Franco’s death), and those who maintained that ETA should focus on developing a streamlined military organisation. ETA suffered its final major split of consequence to this study in November 1974. Perfectly reflecting the differences that had emerged in the organisation along the above lines, ETA split into ETA-politiko-militarra (ETA-pm, or simply ‘Poli-Milis’) and ETA-militarra (ETA-m, or simply ‘Milis’).87 Coinciding with an increasingly competitive battle between the Officials and Provisionals for the primacy of their “Troubles” analysis on the international stage, ETA’s 1974 split marked the beginning of perhaps the most complicated and opaque period in the history of radical Basque nationalistIrish republican relations. Transitions In December 1974, the Irish National Liberation Army (INLA) was founded by a group of Officials who had become disillusioned with the OIRA’s 1972 ceasefire. When the Irish Republican Socialist Party (IRSP) emerged as the INLA’s political wing soon after, there were now three identifiable Irish ‘republican movements’ (in terms of their political and military components: PIRA/PSF, OIRA/OSF, INLA/IRSP). Tense relations between all three were to descend into open violence on several occasions.88 Putting domestic differences to one side, a European political tour involving the Provisionals, IRSP and People’s Democracy (a radical socialist group that emerged from the NICRA) was organised in 1975. Now in his third year of “roving” the continent, Richard Behal warned his PSF party comrades back in Dublin that not only was the Provisionals’ analysis of the conflict being undermined through association with his tour peers in the IRSP, but that, in general, the Provisionals were struggling to compete with the Officials’ International Secretariat, who “pump endless propaganda out to Europe, having greater resources and time”.89 Although Behal had criss-crossed Europe from his Brussels base since 1973, he had apparently sought to avoid the Basque Country. There were two reasons for this. First, under the authoritarian regime in Spain, the Basque Country was

154  Revolutionaries (1970–83) not exactly a welcoming prospect for an Irish republican defending armed revolution. Second, Behal had close family living in the Basque Country. Consequently, he “took a conscious decision to make as little contact as possible with the Spanish scene” for the duration of his time working in PSF’s international relations.90 In reality, Behal’s stance was more flexible. As for ETA, José Miguel Beñaran (Argala), a militant who had been central to the organisation’s assassination of Prime Minister Carrero in 1973, headed up ETA’s (and later ETA-m’s) international relations for most of the 1970s. Working closely with another ETA member José Luis Ansola, Argala’s Aparato Internacional (International Apparatus) sought to develop ETA’s political and diplomatic contacts whilst pursuing arms and explosives on the black market.91 Another key figure in the planning and execution of ‘Operation Ogre’ was the aforementioned Pérez Beotegui (Wilson). Born in Vitoria-Gasteiz in 1948, Wilson moved to London in the mid-1960s (hence his English alias), before returning to Spain in 1972 to prepare for the attack on Carrero.92 Six months after the assassination and amid the swirling rumours of some sort of IRA involvement in Carrero’s demise, The Guardian reported that Beotegui, in a taped interview with journalist Keith Chalkley […] made plain—though he was discreet on the tape—that the ETA maintained very close connections with the IRA. Officials of both movements meet with some regularity in Algiers, Paris, and Brussels, and Beotegui claims that the IRA have provided the ETA with technical expertise on bomb construction.93 If the general thrust of what Wilson said was reported accurately by The Guardian, then this represents the first acknowledgement by a named ETA ­figure—and a senior ETA figure at that—of a working relationship between the two paramilitary groups. It is worth noting that in addition to The Guardian source, a former senior figure in Euskal Iraultzarako Alderdia (EIA, Basque Revolutionary Party; the political wing of ETA-pm) identified Wilson as a key nexus broker with the Provisionals during an interview for this study.94 When ETA split in late 1974, Wilson sided with ETA-pm, heading up that organisation’s Komando Bereziak (Special Commandos).95 Given that ETA-pm’s political wing, EIA, would later forge close relations with PSF, it is possible that Wilson may have taken his Irish republican contacts with him. In 1975, Wilson was the focus of a British Thames Television documentary titled Portrait of a Revolutionary. Among those interviewed was Wilson’s wife, ‘Esti’, who, by her own admittance, was also a member of ETA. Having apparently “travelled all over Europe”, including to Ireland as a member of the organisation, ‘Esti’ admitted to having had contact with the IRA. The interview continued: Interviewer: Why did you contact the IRA? ‘Esti’: Because we think that the Irish struggle is very similar to our one, and because we have sympathy for them.

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  155 Interviewer: Have the IRA given you any assistance? ‘Esti’: I think that we gave them an assistance. Interviewer: You gave the IRA assistance? In what way? ‘Esti’: I’m not going to answer this question.96 Wilson was arrested in July 1975 by Spanish police. At the same time, two of his ETA-pm comrades Juan Paredes (Txiki) and Ángel Otaegui faced charges concerning incidents in which police officers had been killed. If found guilty, the two men were likely to be executed. Not unlike the Burgos Trial five years earlier, international attention once again turned to Franco’s regime. With Txiki and Otaegui found guilty by military tribunal, this time, the rapidly ailing Caudillo was not moved to commute the sentences. On 27 September 1975, both men, as well as three members of Frente Revolucionario Antifascista y Patriota (FRAP, Revolutionary Antifascist Patriotic Front), José Luis Sánchez-Bravo, Ramón García and José Humberto Baena, were executed.97 International condemnation was swift. In Dublin, pickets were organised outside the headquarters of Iberian Airlines on Grafton Street. A communique demanding that the Irish Government withdraw its ambassador from Madrid was also signed by OSF President Tomás Mac Giolla, the CPI’s Michael O’Riordan, and Yann Goulet.98 When the same pressure came on Liam Cosgrave’s Fine Gael-led government from his European partners, and Cosgrave refused, it sparked a rare diplomatic row between Dublin and the rest of the EEC.99 The Irish Minister for Foreign Affairs, Garret FitzGerald, explained his government’s controversial decision not to withdraw the Irish ambassador in the following way: [The government] considered that consultation with the ambassador in person was not necessary since he had been in Dublin a short time previously; and in the second place, because they considered that his recall, as a symbolic gesture, would not have been the most appropriate or useful response, in the current situation in Spain.100 “Mildly puzzled” by Dublin’s position, the British Government closed ranks with its European partners and withdrew its ambassador. Even an ETA spokesman made his “disappointment” with the Irish Government known. Of more long-term consequence, a leftist nationalist platform named Koordinadora Abertzale Sozialista (KAS, Patriotic Socialist Coordinator) emerged from the organising of protests around the executions; several Comités Vascos de Europea (Basque Committees of Europe) were also founded in the likes of Germany, Netherlands Belgium and France.101 The 1975 executions provided a grisly, yet sadly fitting act to four decades of Franco’s brutal authoritarian regime. On 20 November 1975, the dictator died quietly in his hospital bed from Parkinson’s disease. With Franco’s death, a new era in Spanish politics looked set to emerge. ‘Reform’ or ‘rupture’ with the old regime quickly became the central question.

156  Revolutionaries (1970–83) Franco’s anointed successor was Juan Carlos de Borbón, a grandson of the last Spanish monarch, Alfonso XIII. De Borbón became King of Spain on 22 November 1975. The following summer, after months of strikes and protests on the streets of Spain, de Borbón dismissed the incumbent Prime Minister Carlos Arias Navarro and replaced him with Adolfo Suárez, a prominent figure in the regime’s Movimiento Nacional (National Movement). As a result of relentless pro-democratic, anti-Francoist mobilisation and pressure, several key structural and symbolic reforms were introduced under Suárez.102 For instance, in 1977, the Francoist Cortes effectively voted itself out of existence, to be replaced by a parliamentary democracy. Full state elections, which Suárez’s Unión de Centro Democrático (Union of the Democratic Centre) won, were held on 15 June 1977. A gradual amnesty for political opponents of the regime, including those of ETA, was also implemented throughout 1976 and 1977.103 In 1978, a new Spanish Constitution was drafted and accepted by popular referendum, although results were not as clear cut in the Basque Country (discussed later in this chapter). Within the contours of Spain’s new Magna Carta, autonomous governments began to wield local power across the state’s comunidades (communities), including, from 1980 onwards, in the Basque Autonomous Community (BAC). With ‘reform’ of the regime ultimately prevailing over ‘rupture’, this period of political flux in Spain, with Suárez at the helm, would ultimately become known as the Transition.104 Running concurrently to Suárez’s domestic reforms, the Spanish Government was keen to reengage and normalise relations with Spain’s European neighbours, including Ireland and the UK. Intermittently referenced throughout the remainder of this chapter, records of Spanish-Irish and Spanish-British ministerial, diplomatic and security personnel encounters from the Transition era offer rare glimpses into radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations from the state perspective. For instance, when the Spanish Minister for Foreign Affairs (and former Francoist Mayor of Bilbao) José María Areilza met his Irish counterpart Garret FitzGerald in February 1976, the spectre of possible ETA-IRA links was noted as a potential discussion point. In a briefing document prepared for the meeting, an Irish official informed FitzGerald that [o]n the general question of ETA-IRA links, we have up to now taken the line that police contact through Interpol has been a satisfactory channel for dealing with such incidents as may arise. The Department of Justice have indicated, however, that they have informed the Spanish Ambassador that they would have no objections to direct police-topolice contact on the matter (outside the Interpol framework).105 The following March, during a reciprocal visit to Spain by FitzGerald, the Irish minister discussed the situation in Northern Ireland with his new Spanish equivalent, Marcelino Oreja, as well as the Spanish Presidente

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  157 (President—often referred to as Prime Minister in English) Suárez and King Juan Carlos. According to a despatch written by the Irish Ambassador to Spain, Charles V. Whelan: In the course of the various conversations, particularly with the Foreign Minister [Oreja] and the King, the subject of Northern Ireland was raised. The Foreign Minister was interested mainly from the viewpoint of possible lessons to be learnt in relation to the Basque problem, while the King enquired about possible links between the IRA, ETA and other terrorist organisations. On the latter point the Minister [FitzGerald] indicated that we had no evidence of any significant cooperation between the IRA and ETA, although there may have been some links in the past between individuals which seemed however to be of little importance.106 Incidentally, during a reception dinner held for FitzGerald in Madrid, Oreja, of Basque extraction, referred to the long-standing historical myth of Jaun Zuria and his supposed Irish origins: Your country, with its legendary past, reflected even in some of the ancient legends of my own Basque Country, such as the one of Jaun Zuria, ‘the white chieftain’, who arrived mysteriously in a small boat coming from the distant North; with the staunch and unblemished Catholicism of its people.107 Relatedly, the Basque inflexion of the Milesian myth, the Basque inflexion of the Milesian myth surfaced once again in popular culture with the publication of Julio-César Santoyo’s Irlandeses y vascos: Evolución histórica de una leyenda (Irish and Basques: Historical Evolution of a Legend) two years later in 1979.108 Returning to the shared security threat, during a meeting between Suárez and Taoiseach Jack Lynch in October 1977, the former “gave a review of the Basque problem—which he said was not of the same proportions as that of Northern Ireland but could well lead to extremely tense situations in the nottoo-distant future”.109 Suárez’s fear that the situation in the Basque Country could, “in the nottoo-distant future”, unravel to a similar extent as it had done in Northern Ireland was well grounded. Over the next three years, from 1978 to 1980, ETA-m and ETA-pm rapidly escalated their armed campaigns, eventually reaching an apogee in 1980 when both groups, together with another breakaway faction, the Comandos Autónomos Anticapitalistas (CAA, Autonomous Anticapitalist Commandos), killed a total of 94 people. As victim upon victim mounted during Spain’s ‘Años de Plomo’ (Years of Lead), the spectre of a ‘Basque Ulster’, or the ‘Ulsterisation’ of Basque society, gradually entered Spanish and Basque media and political discourse.110

158  Revolutionaries (1970–83) Revolutionaries or Collaborators?

From 16 to 18 January 1976, Official Sinn Féin held its annual Ard Fheis at the Mansion House in Dublin. In light of Franco’s recent death, a motion was passed in “support for the Democratic forces in Spain, in their demand for free elections and for greater political and cultural freedom for the Basques, Catalonians and Galicians”.111 OSF also announced details of a second AntiImperial Festival to take place that summer. In June, one month before the start of the second festival, the Officials’ United Irishman carried a statement written by the “signatory parties of the CHARTER OF BREST”. As the reader will recall, the French-based radical Basque nationalist party HAS had signalled its “adhesion” to the charter in the spring of 1974. Since then, HAS had joined forces with the previously mentioned Spanish-based EAS to form Euskal Herriko Alderdi Sozialista (EHAS, Basque Popular Socialist Party). From the moment of its founding, EHAS fell under the influence of ETA-m.112 In the United Irishman statement, EHAS, alongside the Breton UDB, the Galician UPG and three other political signatories: Cymru Goch (Red Wales), Esquerra Catalana dels Treballadors (Catalan Workers’ Left) and El Partit Socialista d’Alliberament Nacional dels Països Catalans (Catalan Socialist Party of National Liberation), affirmed the following: [W]e the signatory parties of the CHARTER OF BREST deplore the spread of sectarian violence which is tearing the Irish people apart. We recognise that the phenomenon of sectarian conflict is the direct result of the creation in Ireland of two sectarian reactionary states in the interests of Anglo-American Imperialism. We recognise also that both states are propped up by a gombeen bourgeoisie of different but convergent interests.113 Similar rhetoric underpinned the festival when it commenced the following month.114 Seeking to undermine the Officials’ second Anti-Imperialist Festival in three years, Provisional Sinn Féin’s Belfast periodical Republican News published an article portraying the festival organisers as hypocritical and ‘soft’ on armed struggle. To illustrate the point, the Provisionals’ organ referred to the PIRA’s recent assassination of the British Ambassador to Ireland, Christopher Ewart-Biggs, which had drawn criticism from their republican rivals. Republican News questioned what ETA would make of such criticism, given that the Basque group had killed Spanish Prime Minister Luis Carrero in precisely the same manner: All those genuine anti-imperialists’ groups attending conferences in Belfast this week have been advised by Cathal Goulding to stay away from the Provisional[s]. They should ask themselves why this is so. How

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  159 did the ETA (Basque Nationalists) feel when Thomas MacGiolla condemned the assassins of the British Ambassador as ‘terrorists and the enemies of the people of Ireland’, when they themselves killed Admiral Carrero by exactly the same method in November [sic. December] 1973?115 The Republican News piece went on to lambast the Officials as counterrevolutionaries and collaborators before warning that “genuine [international] revolutionaries” would be “tarred with the same reformist brush” by association. Finally, an alternative proposition was suggested to the international delegates, who were, at that precise moment, attending the Officials’ two-legged festival in Dublin and Belfast: Should any genuine revolutionary group in attendance at these hoodwinking conferences wish to dissociate themselves from the sticks [pejorative for the Officials], then the Belfast Republican Press centre will certainly be pleased to provide alternative meetings and discussions with people who will show them what the revolution is all about.116 Two years later, in an interview with the radical Basque nationalist periodical Punto y Hora de Euskal Herria (PHEH), a PIRA member drew the same direct links between ETA’s assassination of Carrero and the PIRA’s assassination of Ewart-Biggs, indicating a measure of reciprocal learning and imitation between ETA and the PIRA: “[T]he system we used last year to eliminate the British Ambassador in Dublin: we based it on the attack that killed Carrero. I believe that the similarities between the two actions would not go unnoticed by you Basques”.117 Despite EHAS’s signature to the pro-Brest Charter statement that appeared in United Irishman in June 1976 and insinuations in Republican News alluding to ETA’s likely participation at the second Anti-Imperialist Festival, much like the first Anti-Imperial Festival of 1974, there would appear to be no concrete evidence as to the identity of the Basque attendees. My People Tell Me Your People are Traitors to Your Nation

With Franco dead and a new political dispensation beginning to take shape in Spain, ETA-pm, ETA-m and a host of Basque political parties would have to define their positions sooner or later. In the autumn of 1976, ETA-pm gathered to take stock of the rapidly changing situation. Many within the organisation now sought a clean break from their established dual ‘political-military’ strategy, arguing instead for the formation of a revolutionary political party that would have the final say on ETA-pm’s military operations and campaigns. In late 1976, EIA, the Basque Revolutionary Party, was founded precisely in this mould (and later presented to the Basque public in April 1977). Overseen by the new

160  Revolutionaries (1970–83) revolutionary party EIA, ETA-pm would, in theory, thenceforth serve as a sort of armed “rearguard for the masses”.118 EIA, ETA-pm, and the other main Basque nationalist entities, EHAS, ETAm and the PNV, held exploratory discussions throughout April and May 1977 on at least five occasions. Presided over by the senior Basque nationalist Telesforo Monzón and named after the French-Basque hotel in which they were held, the Txiberta talks exposed significant differences of opinion between the attendees, especially regarding participation in the upcoming June 1977 Spanish General Election (the first in over four decades). Since total amnesty had still not been granted, nor had all political parties been legalised, EHAS indicated that it would not participate in the elections. The PNV, by contrast, decided to run; as did EIA.119 Still technically illegal, EIA chose to participate in the elections alongside the small communist party EMK, which had been born out of ETA-Berri. Together, EIA and EMK formed a candidatura (list of candidates) as Euskadiko Ezkerra (EE, Basque Left). Francisco Letamendia (Ortzi), an intellectual heavyweight of EIA, and Juan María Bandrés, a lawyer from San Sebastián, were both elected to the Spanish Senate.120 Having decided not to compete in the state-wide election, members of EHAS, alongside Eusko Sozialista (Basque Socialists) and Euskal Komunista Abertzaleen Batasuna (Basque Nationalist Communist Union), came together soon after to form Herri Alderdi Sozialista Iraultzalea (HASI, People’s Socialist Revolutionary Party).121 In 1978, the newly coined HASI, in conjunction with a handful of prominent Basque nationalist independents and other Basque leftist and/or nationalist political organisations—ANV, Euskal Sozialista Biltzarrea (Basque Socialist Assembly), Langile Abertzale Iraultzaileen Alderdia (Party of the Revolutionary Patriotic Workers), and Abertzale Sozialista Komiteak (Patriotic Socialist Committees)—coalesced to form the izquierda abertzale (patriotic left) coalition of Herri Batasuna (HB, Popular Unity).122 With the formation of EIA in 1976 (presented in 1977) and Herri Batasuna in 1978, the 1974 split in ETA that had created two distinct Poli-Mili and Mili organisations was now also clearly reflected in the political realm. While the Poli-Milis (ETA-pm) backed EIA and its candidate list in EE, the Milis backed HB, who reciprocated in kind by defending ETA-m.123 How did these changes on the radical Basque nationalist landscape square with the pattern of transnational contacts and relations established with the provisional and official republican movements? One man who had a unique insight into these dynamics was Paddy Woodworth. Born in Dublin in 1954, Woodworth joined Official Sinn Féin in the early 1970s.124 In 1974, he moved to Bilbao to work as an English teacher. He recalls the period: I was in Official Sinn Féin. And so, you know, I was kind of asked to make contact when I was living out there.… I wasn’t sent out there to

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  161 do it. In fact, to be honest, there was very little interest in the [Basque Country] in the Officials anyway, because they kind of—I think, this would have been around 1975—they [the Officials] were just a little bit chary of being associated with nationalist groups, even with left nationalist groups. They were moving much more kind of into the Moscow mainstream kind of thinking. Notwithstanding the Officials’ chariness in engaging with radical Basque nationalist elements, Woodworth was nevertheless asked to “keep [his] eyes open and report back”. Having a greater appreciation than most of the competing ETA factions and their different ideological positions, Woodworth believed that if the Officials were to engage with any Basque organisation, then it would probably make most sense for those contacts to be “with ETA-pm and with EIA, which was emerging”.125 Simply based on the parallel trajectories of the official republican movement and ETA-pm/EIA, Woodworth’s analysis made a lot of sense. In the same way the Officials maintained the view that Northern Ireland could be reformed, the first step in their ‘stageist’ theory, EIA saw the construction of a unified working-class struggle for social and national liberation as a necessary precursor to an independent and socialist Basque Country. By contrast, both the provisional republican movement and ETA-m maintained that the UK and Spain would only ever accede to their demands through the use of political violence.126 Woodworth eventually made indirect contact with a Poli-Mili activist, “within their support group”. He recalls her response: When she came back to me from the Poli-Milis, she said: ‘my people tell me that your people are traitors to the Irish nation’. So, they were clearly getting the Provisionals’ line from the Poli-Milis, which was so weird!127 Reciprocal Visits

The links between the Provisionals and the Poli-Milis, suspected by Woodworth, slowly began to surface. In October 1976, a resolution was passed at the PSF’s Ard Fheis to create a Foreign Affairs Bureau (FAB) under the direct control of the party executive. Succeeding the Richard Behal-led International Office, FAB would seek to “institutionalise the relationships established with the liberation groups in other parts of the world”. A motion offering support to the “captive nations” of Europe was also passed. These were singled out by Ó Brádaigh as Brittany, the Basque Country, Corsica, Catalonia, Wales and Scotland.128 At the following year’s PSF Ard Fheis, two EIA representatives, José Ramón Peñagarikano (occasionally Peñagaricano) and another, attended. This, it would seem, was the first time that a Basque political party

162  Revolutionaries (1970–83) representative had ever attended a Sinn Féin Ard Fheis, or at least in any official capacity. According to a subsequent report in An Phoblacht, the two men received a standing ovation from the Ard Fheis after reading out the EIA message to the Irish revolution [sic]: ‘A revolutionary greeting from our country, form our freedom fighters, to yours, to you in support in the struggle against the same enemy—imperialism. We are a young party, born a year ago, at the last national assembly of ETA. Our party fights for the independence of Euskadi and socialism fundamental and essential for the real solidarity between oppressed nations, towards true internationalism. Euskadi knows what it is to be oppressed, to lose its best men and women, torture, prisons, and also to be divided in two; but we all know that when there is the will to obtain freedom, liberty comes. A Nation can overcome all the options. You will always find the support of our party and our country for you to obtain a reunited and socialist Republic and we are sure that this congress will help you to achieve this. Long live Ireland. Gora Euskadi askatuta ta sozialista. Iraultzaile agur bero bat zuei eta Irlandako Herriari! [Up the free and socialist Basque Country. A warm greeting to you and the people of Ireland!]129 On their return via London, both EIA representatives were held and questioned by Scotland Yard detectives under the UK’s Prevention of Terrorism Act.130 One month later, at the end of November 1977, the EIA delegates’ trip to Dublin for the Ard Fheis was reciprocated when PSF President Ruairí Ó Brádaigh and another PSF delegate embarked on a three-day tour “under the sponsorship of our good comrades of EIA” to the Basque Country and Navarre. During the visit Ó Brádaigh addressed audiences in Vitoria-Gasteiz and Pamplona.131 An EIA press release stated: The Irish delegation has met with members of the Basque Revolution Party [EIA], meetings in which plans for closer relations and solidarity were advanced, based on respect for the tactics and independence of the parties of the respective nations [...] EIA wishes to make clear its solidarity with the struggle of the Irish people and with Sinn Fein (Provisional).132 Akin to the Basque Ard Fheis attendees, it would appear that Ó Brádaigh’s visit to the Basque Country in late 1977 represented the first of its kind by a senior Sinn Féin figure. Shortly after Ó Brádaigh’s trip, the Consejo General Vasco (CGV, Basque General Council), a sort of transitional Basque assembly, came into being on 4 January 1978. Unlike Herri Batasuna, EIA accepted the nascent body. On

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  163 the eve of the council’s inauguration, PSF sent a message to EIA extending its “good wishes to the Basque people on the establishment of a Basque General Council”. The message also reflected Ó Brádaigh’s long-held interest in the Spanish Civil War and Irish involvement in that conflict: Irish republicans have long admired the unrelenting struggle and great sacrifices made for the freedom of Euskadi […] Forty years ago, Irish men and Basques fought and died as comrades for the liberty of both our countries. Forward now to independence and reunification with full social, economic, and cultural freedom for Euskadi and Ireland.133 While provisional Irish republicanism was developing a warm fraternal relationship with EIA, what, if anything, of the Officials’ de facto alignment via the Brest Charter with HAS (later EHAS and the ETA-Mili-centric HASI)? Woodworth’s recollection of how this alignment came about via the Brest Charter and its relative unimportance squares with that of Eoin Ó Murchú: The contact between the Officials and the Milis came about because of a meeting in the French town of Brest in 1973 [in reality, 1974]. Someone there from the Officials … I don’t know who … was there. And someone was there from HASI … probably Santi Brouard [later the President of HASI], I simply don’t know … and they were joint signatories to what was called the Brest Letter […] nobody could remember who had been to the meeting. There were lots of radical meetings in Europe at the time, and God knows whoever went there for the Officials could have been in the INLA the next year, you know? This meeting was kind of forgotten about.134 Although the Officials’ involvement in the Brest Charter did not seem to amount to anything of substance, the Brest Charter was not yet completely “forgotten about” within the official republican movement. The final scene centres on Gerry McAlinden, a republican from Newry. Having moved to France in the early 1970s, McAlinden became Secretary of the French Irish Solidarity Committee, an organisation that campaigned against British policy in Northern Ireland. Finding himself increasingly identifying with OSF’s analysis of the “Troubles”, McAlinden got in touch with the party’s headquarters in Gardiner Place, Dublin, to offer his “help, if they needed me to do anything”. In McAlinden’s own words, both he and Seán Ó Cionnaith came to a fairly tentative arrangement. They knew they had this guy out in France […] and I had a job that allowed me to get around and talk to

164  Revolutionaries (1970–83) different people in Brittany, in Paris, Bordeaux, etc. I would have been in touch with all the big socialist organisations. McAlinden was asked by Ó Cionnaith to represent the Officials with respect to the Brest Charter. Like Ó Murchú and Woodworth, for McAlinden: “[The Brest Charter] just seemed so small and fragmented. It didn’t seem to add up to anything as far as I was concerned. And I didn’t really pay a lot of attention to it”. Nonetheless, in November 1977, McAlinden attended a gathering in San Sebastián of all the Brest Charter members. An argument over the issue of “armed action” and the limits of its legitimacy seemingly dominated the meeting: When it came to the discussions, I found myself very much [on the] outside […] The Basques had written a concluding statement that very much emphasised the rights to take armed action […] I can’t remember what the form of words was, but I do remember the resistance coming from the people on the … I think it was Herri Batasuna at the time.135 Two Basque parties attended the Brest Charter reaffirmation of 12 November 1977: HASI and EHAS, represented by Patxi Zabaleta, Alberto Figeroa and Txomin Ziluga (HASI), and Manex Goihenetxe (EHAS) respectively; HB would not be officially established until 1978.136 According to McAlinden: There was no way I could go home signing this declaration that talked about the freedom or the rights, or the inalienable right or whatever it was [to take armed action] … and so I objected, and there was a bit of a standoff. After some modifications to the text, McAlinden signed the updated charter “on the basis that I would be able to go back to Dublin and live with it”. The participants agreed to hold a follow-up congress in Brest in the spring of 1978. Neither McAlinden nor any other representative of Sinn Féin – The Workers’ Party (the new name of Official Sinn Féin) went to Brest the following spring. Sensing that the Officials and other Brest Charter signatories had diverged significantly in their outlooks regarding armed struggle, when McAlinden returned to Dublin, he discussed the situation with Ó Cionnaith: My recommendation was that this wasn’t our game from here on in. Seán Kenny [Ó Cionnaith] accepted that, and I think it was tabled at an Ard Comhairle (High Council) meeting sometime after. And I think that marked the end [of the Officials’ involvement with the Brest Charter].137

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  165 The Long Wars Although Spain’s transition to a parliamentary monarchy has generally been appraised as a model of internal regime change, the issue of Basque consent to the new political dispensation was, and remains, a more contested matter. Borrowing Ludger Mees’ idea of a historical three-pronged Basque ‘contention’ (drawn from Tilly, McAdam and Tarrow’s research on ‘contentious politics’), this Basque ‘contention’ (in short, ETA’s violence; Basque/Spanish political contention; inner Basque-Navarrese contention) arguably reached its apogee during the years of the Transition.138 The keystone in Spain’s successful transitional process was the new Spanish Constitution of 1978. For moderate and radical Basque nationalists, however, aspects of Spain’s new Magna Carta were highly problematic. First, with Spain deemed to be “indissoluble” and “indivisible”, any realistic prospect of Basque self-determination was effectively closed off for the foreseeable future. Given that both major left-wing blocs opposed to Franco’s regime— Partido Socialista Obrero Español (PSOE, Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party) and PCE—had publicly supported the principle of a Basque right to selfdetermination throughout the 1970s, this was a particularly bitter pill for Basque nationalists to swallow. A second blow was Navarre’s non-inclusion in the prospective Basque comunidad, although provisions were made for the region’s possible incorporation in the future.139 Despite the PNV managing to secure a reference to Basque “historical rights”, it was not enough to convince the jeltzales to support the proposed constitution. As such, when the document was finally put to Spanish citizens for ratification in December 1978, the PNV advocated for an “abstention”. In the run-up to the historic vote, ETA-m and the constituent parts of HB put forward an alternative proposal: KAS Alternatiba (KAS Alternative). KAS Alternatiba set out the izquierda abertzale’s minimum requirements for the political normalisation of the Basque Country. Considered by its proponents as the “only democratic way to achieve an armistice”, it was generally given short thrift by Adolfo Suárez and his Unión de Centro Democrático government. Herri Batasuna, unsurprisingly, called for an active rejection of the Spanish Constitution.140 As the results of the December 1978 constitution referendum started to filter through, it quickly became apparent that a massive majority of Spanish citizens supported the new legal framework. However, while the final tally (87.9% in favour; 7.8% against; 3.5% blank; 0.7% null, on a turnout of 67.1%) was a huge success for the major Spanish political parties (now all legalised), the scale of this endorsement inadvertently served to highlight a Basque deviation from the state-wide norm: 69.1% in favour; 23.5% against; 5.7% blank; 1.6% null, on a turnout of 44.7%.141 These results and their implications vis-à-vis Basque consent to the new legal framework have been debated at length in practically every book written on Basque nationalism since the 1980s. Of more relevance here, and against what most analysts had

166  Revolutionaries (1970–83) predicted, ETA-m immediately set its face towards a ‘Long War’ of attrition against the newly reconsecrated, post-Franco state. This Long War would be the overarching dynamic of political violence in the Basque Country until the mid-1990s.142 A similar sea change towards a Long War dynamic occurred in Northern Ireland in the mid-to-late-1970s.143 As briefly referenced earlier, in the aftermath of the failed PIRA-British Government talks of 1972, the PIRA’s armed campaign was renewed with vigour on Bloody Friday. Within days, however, ‘Operation Motorman’, the UK’s largest military operation since the Suez Canal Crisis of 1956, resulted in the British Army and RUC retaking control of republican heartlands in Belfast and Derry that had become de facto ‘nogo areas’.144 In February 1975, secret talks led by PSF President Ruairí Ó Brádaigh and the British Secretary of State to Northern Ireland, Merlyn Rees, resulted in a new PIRA ceasefire. It would hold until January 1976. Severely weakened by British infiltration and the recruitment of informers in the intervening period, it has been suggested that the PIRA’s entire campaign was on the verge of collapse in 1976. A new PIRA organisational structure saw the paramilitaries move away from conventional army units to smaller, more discriminate cells circa 1977.145 That same year, Rees was replaced as Secretary of State to Northern Ireland by Roy Mason, a man who proved to be more interested in defeating the PIRA militarily than in appealing to their political sensibilities. Under Mason, a policy known as ‘Ulsterisation’ moved the burden of security onto the local RUC and UDR. Dovetailing with the Ulsterisation of the conflict, the ‘criminalisation’ of politically motivated prisoners in Northern Ireland led to protests by republicans against the loss of their Special Category Status.146 British “withdrawal” may have looked likely in 1972, perhaps even pending. By 1977, this was a distant prospect. Following two unsuccessful periods of negotiations with the British (1972 and 1975), the PIRA, just like ETA-m, hunkered down for their own Long War. This time there would be no ceasefires or negotiations until the enemy had stated its intention to “withdraw”.147 In contrast to the PIRA’s unambiguous war footing, their erstwhile comrades in the OIRA were at a different stage. Having explicitly turned towards class politics, in 1977, the Official movement’s ‘Republican Clubs’ disassociated themselves from any remaining connections with political violence. As we have seen, similar sentiments had motivated the Officials’ withdrawal from the Brest Charter.148 As for the Poli-Mili wing of radical Basque nationalism, reciprocal statements of solidarity and visits by EIA and PSF delegations in late 1977 and early 1978 had paved the way for the development of relations between the two movements. The evolution of this Poli-Mili-Provisional nexus, coupled with a surge of media and government speculation regarding possible ETAIRA links, is explored in what follows.

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  167 The Cuadrilla

In May 1978, the EIA political representatives Juan María Bandrés and Francisco Letamendia (Ortzi) arrived in Dublin as part of an International Tribunal on Britain’s Crimes against the Irish People (Bertrand Russell Tribunal). Despite being a member of the Spanish Senate, Bandrés, on his return to Spain via London, was “quizzed” by British police; his luggage also mysteriously disappeared, never to be seen again.149 Evidently, the British authorities were already up to speed with the nascent EIA-PSF nexus. Five months later, and for the second successive year, two EIA representatives, Mario Onaindia and Mikel Etxeberria, attended PSF’s annual Ard Fheis.150 According to a report compiled by the British Embassy in Dublin, the overall mood of the Ard Fheis was rather “uninspired”: One illustration of the comparatively low morale of PSF was their pathetic attempts to emphasise their international connections. A Basque separatist was introduced amid loud applause, but it turned out that he [Mikel Etxeberria], was not a member of ETA.151 During his intervention, Mikel Etxeberria referred to Ireland as “the Alamo against imperialism in Europe”. The Times of London also noted how Etxeberria’s address had been received with a “standing ovation from all but one section [of the Ard Fheis], who apparently found his message too left wing”.152 Onaindia, who was a famous ex-ETA member (having been on trial in Burgos, 1970), wrote approvingly in Egin of the IRA’s ‘extra-judicial’ violence in Belfast: [T]he IRA has carried out numerous actions in support of the mass movement, such as the kidnapping and subsequent shooting in the knee of some unscrupulous capitalists, rapists, thieves, etc., denounced by the people.153 On 28 January 1979, a story appeared in the Spanish daily El País alleging major links between ETA and the IRA. Repeated in the British and Irish press a day later, the article centred on claims of joint ETA-IRA training in a Middle Eastern country, IRA involvement in attacks in the Basque Country, evidence of ETA commandos operating in the UK, and mutual exchanges of arms and explosives.154 Responding to an enquiry in the House of Commons regarding the sensational press reports, the Secretary of State to Northern Ireland, Roy Mason, remarked: The hon. Gentleman may know that at the Provisional Sinn Fein ardheis [sic] that was held recently in the Republic of Ireland, representatives of the Basque terrorists [from the perspective of Mason: Onaindia and

168  Revolutionaries (1970–83) Etxeberria] were present. Undoubtedly, there is a tenuous link. We keep in touch with our embassies and consulates abroad and warn them if we think that there is anything developing from that link.155 Owing to the dramatic extent of the claims, the Information Officer of the British Embassy in Madrid contacted the “Head of the International Section of El País” to investigate the veracity of the story. In a subsequent British Embassy despatch, the senior El Pais figure was said to have been rather embarrassed. He [of El País] suggested lamely that the story might have originated in the Basque Country but it was clear from his remarks that he regarded it as entirely without foundation and that he considered that it should never have been printed. We discount that it was an official plant as we cannot think of any purpose. It looks as if some fanciful ultra-right-wing gossip somehow found its way into print, which is a poor reflection on the professionalism of El País. Sensing the potential benefit of stories of this kind for British propaganda interests, an FCO official who had read the embassy report from Madrid, remarked in handwriting underneath: “I don’t see why we should be unduly bothered by [sic] if ETA, PIRA and other similar terrorist organisations become generally linked in the international public’s mind”.156 Fraternal relations between EIA and PSF were increasingly fostering this image anyway. From 26 to 28 January 1979, a Ruairí Ó Brádaigh-led PSF delegation visited the Basque Country for the second time in little over a year. This time, Sinn Féin participated in a three-day trilateral meeting with EIA and the Portuguese Organização Unitária de Trabalhadores (OUT, United Organisation of Workers), which had supported the left-wing colonel Otelo Saraiva de Carvalho in the 1976 Portuguese presidential election. The recently merged An Phoblacht/Republican News (AP/RN) reported that the three parties had put forward their respective ideas for the “development of a revolutionary strategy in Ireland, Euskadi and Portugal”.157 On the third day of the trip, party representatives held a public gathering in the small Gipuzkoan town of Ormaiztegi. At the event, the PSF President made a lengthy statement on his party’s relations with EIA and the “milestone” sacrifices of the Irish and Basque peoples on their respective journeys to freedom. A year after congratulating EIA on the formation of the CGV, Ó Brádaigh’s statement now struck a markedly different tone in congratulating the Basque people for recently “defeating” the Spanish Constitution and, by extension, Madrid’s writ north of the River Ebro: Sinn Féin wishes to congratulate the people of Euskadi on their action in defeating the constitution proposed by Madrid. You have declared in the most striking fashion and the whole world knows now that the Spanish government has no mandate to govern you. But you must now demonstrate your capability and your responsibility in governing

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  169 yourselves. The world is watching your struggle and is waiting for you to show that you are well able to organise the self-government of the Basque people. We in Ireland also admire your efforts to restore your historic Basque language and culture and respect and support the objectives of EIA in seeking control of the wealth of Euskadi by its people and for the benefit of its people and not by the international imperialists and pirates of the EEC and NATO [North Atlantic Treaty Organization]. Power to the working people! […] The blood of Irish and Basque patriots mingles in the common struggle for liberation. Such sacrifices act as milestones for the struggling peoples. Long live the struggles of the Irish and Basque peoples. Independence and Socialism! Unity is Strength! Victory is certain! Gora Euskadi eta Irlanda askatuta! [Up an independent Basque Country and Ireland!]158 Another Irishman in the vicinity of Ormaiztegi was Paddy Woodworth. Doing some freelance journalism at the time, Woodworth remembers Ruairí Ó Brádaigh’s intervention vividly: Ó Brádaigh proclaimed in Irish: ‘Níor cheart go mbeadh Madrid i nEuskadi ní anois na ariamh’ [Madrid has no right to be in the Basque Country, neither in the past nor in the present]. And the second thing I remember was they all got up to sing ‘The International’ … Ó Brádaigh was directly and explicitly anti-communist, and yet here he was, because he was friends with the Poli-Milis … he kind of awkwardly raised his left fist for ‘The International’.159 The following month, in February 1979, representatives of EIA and PSF met on the fringes of a conference held in Cagliari, Sardinia, on “the national question and the class struggle”.160 Three months later, a Portuguese newspaper Voz de Povo reported on May Day that a joint communique had recently been signed in Lisbon by the PSF-EIA-OUT triumvirate, alongside 11 other revolutionary organisations including, most notably, Herri Batasuna.161 The joint communique asserted: [N]ational liberation struggles, taking power and putting an end to colonialism, do not of themselves alone guarantee the liberation of oppressed peoples, unless there is a clear socialist option to put an end to capitalism and all forms of exploitation […] [I]t is becoming increasingly clear that the definitive overthrow of capitalism and smashing of reactionary forces, as well as the exercise of power by the popular masses, are impossible unless the latter, organised, have the power of arms. In step with this analysis, the organisations reportedly pledged “an exchange of information and closer contact” whilst also agreeing in principle to another meeting that would take place in December.162

170  Revolutionaries (1970–83) On the weekend of 21–23 April 1979, advocates for Irish, Basque and other politically motivated prisoners converged in Dublin at a PSF-organised European Political Prisoners Conference. According to a subsequent report in the provisional republican organ Irish Republican Information Service (IRIS): A large delegation from Euskadi (the Basque Country) attended […] including representatives from EIA and Herri Batasuna, two Basque political organisations, as well as Senator Juan M. Bandrés, a member of the Spanish Parliament for the Basque Country.163 In July, the unionist MP for North Antrim Ian Paisley asked the new Secretary of State to Northern Ireland, Humphrey Atkins, in the House of Commons “whether he has any evidence that the ‘Provisional’ IRA had a recent conference with the Basque terrorists in Spain?” Atkins responded: No, Sir. I cannot tell the House that we have any direct evidence of that. However, there is considerable co-operation between the Governments of the countries affected. All evidence is carefully studied and acted upon where possible.164 The rumours continued. One report in the British media (News of the World) speculated that a meeting between ETA, the IRA and the Red Army Faction (RAF/Baader Meinhof) had recently taken place on a yacht anchored off the island of Jersey.165 Another claimed that: Basque separatists who conducted a half-hearted campaign on the Costa Brava this summer were actually trained at a farm outside Dublin. It was by way of repayment for a supply of plastic bomb [illegible] which the Spanish provided for the IRA.166 Possibly related to this story, Sean O’Callaghan revealed in his memoir that he had gone to England in 1983 “to plant sixteen bombs on English beaches”. This plan was apparently “borrowed from the Basque terrorist group ETA” (more concretely, an ETA-pm campaign), which had targeted the Spanish tourist industry in 1979.167 At the scheduled follow-up meeting (December 1979) to the gathering of revolutionary groups in Lisbon earlier that year, EIA and HB, among others, signed the following statement: This conference fully supports the demands of the Irish people, expressed through the Irish Republican Movement, for a total British withdrawal, militarily, politically, and from economic exploitation of the whole island of Ireland. We also support them in rejecting reformist solutions which would twart [sic] the unity of Ireland based on national liberation and socialism. Finally, pending that British withdrawal, that

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  171 the international scandal of the H Blocks be ended and prisoner of war status restored.168 Perhaps stimulated by escalating radical Basque nationalist violence and the spectre of operational links between ETA-m and/or ETA-pm and the PIRA, evidence suggests that the Spanish Government was beginning to take the potential security threat seriously. In June 1979, Spain’s Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Carlos Robles Piquer, made a personal request to the British Ambassador to Spain, Antony Acland, for information on “any links that might exist between the IRA and the Basque terrorist organisation ETA”.169 Other ETA-IRA enquiries were also seemingly made to the embassy around the same time “by a number of senior Spaniards, including King Juan Carlos”. As a result of these requests, British reports on the IRA and possible ETAIRA links were provided to the Spanish authorities. Additionally, it was proposed that Major General Young, Director of Infantry and former Commander of Land Forces in Northern Ireland (1975–77), be sent on a briefing visit to Spain. A “joint visit [to Spain] by the [British] Security Service and the Irish Garda Special Branch”, as well as a proposal to invite the head of the Spanish Directorate of State Security to the UK, were also earmarked.170 An extract from a letter sent from the FCO to the British Minister for Defence, dated August 1979, provides a useful insight into the UK and Spain’s approaches to their shared security threat: In general we want to demonstrate to the Spaniards that we are anxious to cooperate fully and effectively with them against the common problem of terrorism. They themselves evidently see us, with our experience of Northern Ireland, as particularly well-qualified to help and advise in this field. It is clear that they attach high importance to the offers to exchange information and cooperate in measures against terrorism made during the visit of the then Minister of the Interior, Sr Martin Villa, to London last November. Subsequent reports of contacts between the IRA and the Basque separatist organisation, ETA, have only strengthened their desire to work more closely with us.171 On 27 August 1979, the British royal and last Viceroy of India, Louis Mountbatten, was assassinated by a PIRA bomb in the west of Ireland. According to the Irish Ambassador to Spain, this only “increased the tendency [in Madrid] to speculate on the possibility of technical cooperation between the two organisations”.172 Other reports from 1979 place the ETA-m leader Domingo Iturbe (Txomin) in Ireland, “where he came into contact with the IRA”. That summer, ETA reportedly laid flowers at Frank Ryan’s grave, the day after his body was reinterned in Dublin. Lastly of note, Sean O’Callaghan claimed that just before he re-joined the IRA in 1979, “ETA terrorists came to Ireland

172  Revolutionaries (1970–83) for training in the use of the Provisionals’ homemade mortars”. In an interview with the academic Rogelio Alonso, O’Callaghan stated that these training activities took place in the southern Irish county of Kerry.173 While the spectre of advanced operational links between the PIRA and ETA—rarely ever defined as ETA-m or ETA-pm in the media or state documentation—­clearly concerned the Spanish Government, how real was this threat? Outlining the findings of a recently compiled British intelligence report (possibly on foot of the above Spanish requests), an official at the British Embassy in Madrid noted in September 1979 that intelligence services had found no evidence of any “operational links”. In fact, the intelligence report “[fell] well short of validating the Spanish belief, which is increasingly voiced here [Spain], that there are operational links between ETA and the IRA”.174 Similarly, another 1979 British despatch concluded: There has been regular contact between the Provisional Sinn Féin and the ETA or EIA (its political wing) for some time. It is however very difficult to prove that weapons are exchanged in either direction, and we have no hard evidence from our own or other sources that such a supply exists.175 Warm relations between PSF and EIA continued into 1980, with Ruairí Ó Brádaigh making his third public trip in as many years to the Basque Country. At an EIA rally in Bilbao, the PSF leader drew analogies between the contentious status of Navarre and the status of Ulster in a partitioned Ireland: “We say to you: do not let Madrid divide Navarre from you as the English divided the north of Ireland from us, and so prolonged the conflict”. The PSF President also attended a Long Kesh (H-Block) display in the Biscayan capital.176 As affirmed in Euskadiko Ezkerra’s organ Hitz: “Undoubtedly the Basque people have a friend in the Irish and Euskadiko Ezkerra [EE, of which EIA was the major component] a partner in Sinn Féin”.177 In addition to a political friendship, PSF-EIA contacts and relations were also underpinned by personal relationships between key nexus brokers. At the heart of these relations was José Ramón Peñagarikano. A fluent multilinguist, Peñagarikano had naturally gravitated towards the international relations department of EIA. As we have seen, he was also one of the two EIA representatives that first attended a Sinn Féin Ard Fheis (in 1977). Peñagarikano recalls meeting Ruairí Ó Brádaigh and Richard Behal that same year for the first time “in a village in the Basque Country”.178 Indeed, Ó Brádaigh, Behal and Ted Howell, the latter of whom would go on to head up Sinn Féin’s FAB for most of the 1980s, would all visit the Basque Country throughout the late 1970s and early 1980s. In an interview with this author, Peñagarikano likened the relationship dynamic between senior EIA and PSF figures to that of a Basque “cuadrilla” (gang, or crew).179

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  173 Reflecting on his understanding (as opposed to his knowledge) of the military strand of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations at this juncture, Peñagarikano remarks: The IRA people had their own problems that corresponded with those of ETA Político-Militar. That is to say, they had logistical needs […] and they understood each other... ‘you need this and that’ […] ‘hey, we can give you this, yes, no, this and that...’; the process was very participative in the sense that they understood the same language, there were no major problems.180 Finally, a more benign PIRA-ETA-pm link relates to the Arthur MacCaigdirected The Patriot Game (1979). Eager to emulate the propaganda success of the PIRA-sympathetic documentary, ETA-pm militants essentially mentored MacCaig on the history of the Basque Country prior to the production of the director’s Euskadi hors d’État/Euskadi Estatutik at (Euskadi at the Margins of the State) (1983). Euskadi hors d’État drew strong parallels between the Basque and Irish cases.181 A Changeover (In Four Parts) Part I

In April 1980, in an interview published by Der Spiegel, a “senior figure” in the PIRA’s “high command” made the following remarks: Der Spiegel: Have you German help? It is said that remnants of the Red Army Faction (RAF) support your ASUs [Active Service Units]. Patrick: If you are implying that we receive material or physical support from the RAF or similar organisations, the answer is categorically no. We are a freedom army, which is supported only by the suppressed people of Ireland. As a matter of principle, we have nothing to do with such groups, who pursue aims different to our own. We are nonetheless allied to such groups who, as we do, attempt to free their own people from oppression. Der Spiegel: For example, the Basques, ETA. Patrick: Yes, and with some others.182 Comments such as those by “Patrick” (and others referenced previously) consistently fed into the view that the PIRA and ETA were “allied” in some shape or form throughout the 1970s. Moreover, given the context of the Cold War and the frequent suggestions of cooperation between ETA, the IRA and a host of European and Middle Eastern revolutionary organisations, the notion of an ‘international terror network’, controlled by

174  Revolutionaries (1970–83) Moscow from the centre, also briefly gained traction via Claire Sterling’s much-publicised (and much-criticised) The Terror Network.183 Rumours of PIRA-ETA cooperation continued into the new decade. For instance, when ETA-m stole over 7,000 kilos of explosives from an industrial company outside the Cantabrian city of Santander in 1980, British and Irish authorities reportedly stepped up their vigilance out of fear that some of the materials could end up in the PIRA’s hands.184 In 1981, Policía Española, an internal Spanish police magazine, included Ireland among a number of countries in which ETA militants had reportedly trained. And finally, Spanish Minister of the Interior Juan José Rosón reportedly stated in 1982 that there had been exchanges of weapons between the IRA and ETA, and in some cases between ETA and the Italian Brigate Rosse (Red Brigades).185 Fleeting encounters such as the European Political Prisoners Conference held in Dublin in 1979 aside, there was still little or no evidence, or even suggestion, of any organisation-to-organisation political relationship between Sinn Féin and Herri Batasuna. Florencio Domínguez cites two reasons why relations between Provisional Irish republicanism and the ETA-centric HB were slow to emerge: first, an apparent reluctance on behalf of ETA-m’s International Apparatus chief Jose Antonio Urrutikoetxea (better known as Josu Ternera) to develop contacts with European organisations (Ternera had replaced Argala in 1978 following the latter’s assassination); and second, that the Provisionals were perceived as being too “right wing” within elements of the izquierda abertzale.186 An additional explanation is that the very existence of the PSF-EIA axis effectively negated any possibility of similar transnational relations developing between PSF and HB—EIA’s direct rival for hearts and minds on the Basque left nationalist spectrum. In other words, it would not have been feasible for the provisional republican movement to maintain relations with two competing Basque politico-military entities. Indeed, it is worth noting that one senior EIA representative who contributed anonymously to this study claimed that EIA’s underlying rationale for maintaining a ‘Provo’ connection into the early 1980s was to essentially deprive ETA-m and HB of a prestigious partner.187 Just as relations between the Provisionals and Poli-Milis were starting to slide in the early 1980s, a PSF-HB nexus began to surface. The catalyst for this eventual changeover, it would seem, was the republican H-Block Hunger Strikes of 1980 and 1981. Part II

Having lost Special Category Status in 1976, throughout the late 1970s, republican prisoners in Northern Ireland steadily ramped up a campaign of non-cooperation that centred around five key demands.188 When these demands went unmet, seven Long Kesh prisoners began a joint hunger strike in October 1980.

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  175 The 1980 Hunger Strike sparked a hive of prisoner-related international activism and solidarity, including in the Basque Country. For instance, attending the PSF Ard Fheis in Dublin in November, José Ramón Peñagarikano “presented a petition signed by many members of the Basque and Spanish parliaments”, including “seven MPs, four Deputies, two city councillors and several provincial councillors”.189 Days later, Richard Behal, alongside Eileen McConville (a former protest leader at the all-female Armagh Prison), arrived in the Basque Country on the first leg of an “extensive tour including Catalonia, Spain, Portugal and Italy”.190 AP/RN reported that Behal and McConville had held a meeting with the “president of the Basque parliament, in Vittoria [sic], and other members of the parliament”.191 On 8 December, AP/RN stated that EIA, as well as 13 other European left-wing groups, had demanded that the British Government grant prisonerof-war status to the H-Block inmates.192 And finally, ten days later, on 18 December, a 25-strong ‘Parliamentary Group of Basque Nationalists’, led by the PNV deputy Josu Bergara, wrote to Britain’s Queen Elizabeth II requesting that she grant improvements to the prisoners’ basic conditions.193 Believing incorrectly that all the prisoners’ demands had been met, the 1980 Hunger Strike was called off after 53 days by the IRA’s Brendan Hughes.194 Plans were quickly put in place for a second strike. This time, the prisoners would stagger their strikes in order to slowly ratchet up pressure on the British Government and maximise publicity, both home and abroad. Furthermore, as one ‘comm’ smuggled out of Long Kesh and addressed to “The ETA” vowed: the second strike “will be to the death”.195 The second hunger strike began on 1 March 1981 when the IRA prisoner Bobby Sands refused food. Four days into the strike, Frank Maguire, an Independent Republican MP for Fermanagh and South Tyrone, died suddenly of a heart attack. When a by-election was called to fill Maguire’s old seat, Sands presented himself as an ‘Anti H-Block/Armagh Political Prisoner’ candidate. After a highly charged, emotional campaign, Bobby Sands was dramatically elected as the new MP for Fermanagh and South Tyrone on 9 April 1981. Not only did Sands’ victory send shock waves through the British and Irish establishments, but as has been discussed at length elsewhere, it also marked a watershed moment for Sinn Féin’s gradual entrance into electoral politics.196 In the absence of a comprehensive agreement between the strikers and British Government, Bobby Sands died on 5 May 1981 after 66 days on hunger strike. Nine of his comrades would meet the same fate over the following three months, ending with Michael Devine on 20 August 1981. Among the international political representatives and activists that came to pay their respects to Sands was the (abstentionist) Herri Batasuna representative for Álava, Iñaki Ruiz de Pinedo. According to Ruiz de Pinedo, he

176  Revolutionaries (1970–83) was the only available elected HB representative with a passport who could travel to the funeral at short notice. His party compatriot Juan Okiñena, who could speak English fluently, travelled with him.197 Reflecting on the trip more than 35 years later, Ruiz de Pinedo recalled what, in hindsight, was perhaps its most significant consequence: “We established a series of contacts which, as I understand it, were to later serve the posterior relations [with Sinn Féin]”.198 This view is supported by Alexander Ugalde Zubiri, a former member of HASI’s Executive Committee and Herri Batasuna’s Comites de Relaciones Exteriores (International Relations Committees): “I think from that point on [Bobby Sands’ funeral], the ties are fixed”.199 Part III

In the Basque Country, Sands’ death was met with demonstrations in the provincial capitals and widespread sympathetic coverage in the likes of PHEH and Hitz.200 In September 1981, Sean Sands, brother of Bobby, was invited to the Basque Country to speak about the strike; extracts of Sands’ prison diaries were also published in PHEH that same month.201 One of ETA’s former leaders Eugenio Etxebeste (Antxon) recollects the impact of Sands’ death and the 1980 and 1981 Hunger Strikes in the Basque Country more generally: [T]he hunger strikes of Bobby Sands and his comrades were experienced with great drama […] In our perception these things generated an important breeding ground for reaffirming in struggle things that have also occurred in our movement.202 As for José Ramon Peñagarikano and his EIA comrades, Sands’ bitter-sweet victory and sacrifice was simultaneously seen as both heroic and “something distant, because we did not understand this mode of struggle”.203 Indeed, although not exclusive to Ireland, hunger strikes have a long-­established and hugely emotive resonance that is almost uniquely salient to the political cultures of Irish nationalism and Irish republicanism.204 In the wake of the ten hunger strike deaths, a sombre 1981 Ard Fheis gathering welcomed the by-now-familiar face of José Ramon Peñagarikano.205 This Ard Fheis would be remembered for Danny Morrison’s famous “armalite and ballot box” speech, during which the Belfast man signposted the Provisionals’ emerging dual strategy of marrying electoral gains with political violence: “Who here really believes we can win the war through the ballot box? But will anyone here object if, with a ballot paper in this hand and an Armalite in the other, we take power in Ireland?”.206 The following March, Richard Behal was back in the Basque Country to attend the founding of EIA’s electoral coalition Euskadiko Ezkerra as a party in its own right. Also in attendance was Paddy Woodworth on behalf of The Workers’ Party, which had by now completely erased Sinn Féin from its

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  177 name.207 Whether by accident or design, the two men, each representing conflicting positions on the Irish republican spectrum, ended up sitting side by side. Trying to make light of the situation, Woodworth recalls telling Behal: ‘I think you’re in the wrong place, these people are giving up armed struggle’. It was very funny because at the moment I said that, a group of parents of Poli-Mili prisoners stood up, and I swear, at that very same moment they started this [chant of] ‘Gora ETA-politiko-militarra!’ And [Behal] said: ‘look, they’re still military!’208 As Woodworth’s conversation with Behal alludes to, ETA-pm militants were, at that precise moment, in the early stages of winding down their armed campaign. This would eventually lead to an agreement brokered by Onanindia and Bándres with the Spanish Government and the social reinsertion of ETA-pm (VII Assembly) militants.209 Richard Behal’s days as the head of PSF’s international affairs were also coming to an end. Sean Halpenny took over from him Behal in 1983 as part of a broader generational shift in the party. Most significantly of all, Gerry Adams replaced Ruairí Ó Brádaigh as President of Provisional Sinn Féin at the 1983 Ard Fheis.210 Part IV

Coinciding with PSF’s changing of the guard at the 1983 Ard Fheis, a new era in radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations, with Provisional Sinn Féin and Herri Batasuna as the central axle, would be first clearly evidenced. Why did PSF’s fraternal Basque partner change from EIA to Herri Batasuna in the early 1980s? Three factors are most relevant in explaining the eventual changeover. First, according to José Ramón Peñagarikano and two other prominent EIA members interviewed for this study, Eduardo “Teo” Uriarte and Javier Olaverri, the ideological and strategic incongruity between the Provisionals and the Poli-Milis—arguably evident from the outset—only grew with time.211 Consequently, as ETA-pm’s armed campaign wound down in the early 1980s, any continued, even indirect associations with the Provisionals would likely have raised doubts regarding EIA(EE)’s purely political bona fides. In short, EIA(EE) did not want or need the extra attention. Second, from the moment it began contesting elections, HB took over from the EIA-dominated EE as the leading nationalist left coalition in the Basque Country—a trajectory that continued into the 1980s and 1990s.212 Given HB and Sinn Féin’s shared abstentionist principles and HB’s electoral successes (Sinn Féin’s electoral successes would come slightly later; see Chapter 6), each could easily recognise and identify with the other’s unorthodox way of doing politics. In this sense, they became more attractive transnational

178  Revolutionaries (1970–83) ‘partners’ to each other as their praxis were so similar. In fact, according to Iker Casanova, HB’s decision to abstain from taking seats in certain elections was directly inspired by the Irish republican movement’s example.213 And third, HB and PSF’s continued defence of ETA-m and PIRA’s armed campaigns marked them out in their respective contexts and would eventually lead to their political isolation. As I discuss further in Chapter 6, domestic political isolation, as well as analogous political, police and juridical threats, all served to incentivise the development of transnational relations between the two parties. With a decision seemingly taken to bring EIA(EE)’s relationship with PSF to an end, Peñagarikano sought, in his own words, to “take advantage” of an upcoming Ard Fheis to square off the relationship in person. If Peñagarikano’s account of what happened next is accurate, a highly visual representation of the pending EIA(EE)-to-HB changeover followed. According to Peñagarikano, while waiting in a London airport to catch a connecting flight to Ireland, he met a HB delegate en route to the same Ard Fheis. It immediately became apparent to Peñagarikano that Herri Batasuna would be taking over as the PSF’s Basque partner: “I met this guy... I introduced him to the ‘Provo’ world, let’s say!”214 It is likely that “this guy” was Juan Okiñena, a HASI party member of the HB coalition and, as we have seen, an attendee at Bobby Sands’ funeral alongside Iñaki Ruiz de Pinedo. Okiñena attended the Sinn Féin Ard Fheis of November 1983, delivering a short speech to the assembled republican delegates.215 To my knowledge, it was the first time a HB representative had attended. Although keen republican observers would have noted the absence of Peñagarikano (“a regular and popular visitor at Ard Fheiseanna”)216 in the years that followed, in the grand scheme of things, a new international Basque delegate (and party) was hardly a big deal for the Provisionals. In terms of the long historical trajectory of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations, however, the changeover was significant. Conclusion Well, without saying too much personally, there was always speculation that there were [ETA-IRA] connections and I would be very surprised—it sounds too political almost what I’m saying—but I would be very surprised if that were not so, you know? I mean, I think there were… yeah… there had to have been… there were… there were connections, yeah. I don’t know too much in detail, but yeah, there would have been military connections going way back… way back […] I don’t think anyone would think that that wasn’t so.217 (Anonymous interview with the author) It was, of course, [a relationship] of a political background, but above all, there was a personal relationship.218 (Author interview with José Ramón Peñagarikano)

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  179 As the reader will appreciate, the period covered in this chapter (1970 to 1983) is perhaps the most complex thus far in the history of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations. Therefore, the following analysis should be considered as a first attempt at untangling its many knotty aspects. Notwithstanding the overall complexity of this era, somewhat paradoxically, several concurrent and congruent macro-international and domestic factors served to largely conjoin both cases and, as a result, ground the context in which the development of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations took place. First, the emergence and escalation of the armed campaigns of ETA (and its derivatives) and the IRA (and its derivatives) led to the frequent drawing of parallels, comparisons and speculation regarding possible cooperation between the two organisations and their case contexts. To varying degrees, this type of discourse tended to be generated and reproduced by the Spanish, British and Irish media, and by the movements themselves. In addition, and lest there be any doubt, multiple statements and communiques between radical Basque nationalist and Irish republican elements clearly evidence the existence of a relationship from as early as 1971. What I would describe as a BIA/Basque Country-IRM/Northern Ireland ‘loop of association’ was thus firmly established and diffused during the 1970s and early 1980s. As briefly referenced in Chapter 1, this close case association has led to the publication of a large body of academic literature dedicated to comparative aspects of the two political cultures and their respective cases in the decades since. Second, with the outbreak of the “Troubles” and the uncertainty surrounding Northern Ireland’s constitutional position in the UK, the Irish Revolutionary Period-oriented ‘Irish Mirror’, through which radical and moderate Basque nationalists had hitherto primarily engaged with the Irish case, was effectively truncated to Northern Ireland and its unfolding contemporary situation. As the Basque Country and its relationship with and within Spain simultaneously entered a period of violent flux for the first time in four decades, the spectre of a ‘Basque Ulster’ emerged within Spanish-Basque media and political discourse. The contentious issue of Navarre, omitted from the BAC, brought additional parallels with Ireland’s own lost ‘Fourth Green Field’ of Ulster.219 A third congruent factor was the question of democratic legitimacy and mandate. While it is true that Ireland, unlike the Basque Country, was (and is) not, in fact, a stateless nation, this mattered little to provisional Irish republicanism, which ultimately sought to remove both the ‘Orange’ statelet of Northern Ireland and the illegitimate ‘neo-colonial’ entity of the ‘Free State’. In this sense, the Basque izquierda abertzale’s rejection of the Spanish Constitution as an illegitimate apparatus imposed on the Basque nation from Madrid dovetailed with traditional republican thinking around Britain’s unilateral partitioning of Ireland in 1920 and the usurping of the de jure Irish Republic by way of the Anglo-Irish Treaty of 1921. Stemming from these three factors, engagement between radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans was undergirded by what both political

180  Revolutionaries (1970–83) cultures largely perceived as analogous and mutually intelligible ‘armed struggles’ for ‘national liberation’ within the Western European context of ‘stateless’ nations and a wider arc of revolutionary leftism and anti-­ imperialism. Consequently, the asymmetricity so evident in previous eras of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations was far less pronounced from 1970 to 1983. If these were the macro-international and domestic-case dynamics that loosely scaffolded radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations throughout the 1970s and early 1980s, what of other meso-level and microlevel contingencies? In the wake of the Burgos Trial of 1970 and the internationalisation of ETA, a series of statements of solidarity and/or joint communiques were signed on behalf of ETA and the PIRA, and later between various radical Basque nationalist parties and PSF and OSF. These Irish-Basque transnational interactions and others of a more ad hoc ilk (e.g., the Officials’ Anti-­ Imperialist Festivals; various leftist/nationalist meetings and talks in Ireland or on the continent) were largely contingent and determined by the provisional and official republican movements’ (meso-level) decisions to establish international departments in the early 1970s. These international entities, as well as their Basque equivalents (especially EIA’s), served as the primary apparatus through which the majority of documented tangible (‘talking to’ rather than ‘talking about’) contacts and relations were established and developed between Irish republicans and radical Basque nationalists throughout this period.220 At a micro-level, and speaking to the element of personal agency, the Provisionals’ forging of links with Basque actors may well have been premised on what Bishop and Mallie have described as Ruairí Ó Brádaigh’s “personal political fantasy of a Celtic federation on the edge of Europe composed of Irish, Welsh, Scots, Bretons and Basques”.221 As noted in Chapter 4, despite not being a Celtic nation, the Basques and other European stateless nations tended to fit neatly into this type of schema. Following ETA’s 1974 split into Mili and Poli-Mili organisations, verifiable provisional republican contacts and relations with radical Basque nationalist protagonists effectively ran cold before emerging again in 1977. There is some evidence to suggest that the Poli-Milis may have maintained an undetermined clandestine link with provisional Irish republicanism in the intervening period, possibly via ETA-pm’s Wilson (prior to his capture in July 1975). Running concurrently, the official republican movement and HAS (a precursor entity to HB’s HASI) signalled their adhesion to the Brest Charter in 1974. On this basis, one could tentatively suggest that the Provisionals and ETA-pm on one hand, and the Officials and HAS (and its subsequent incarnations) on the other, were notionally aligned from 1974 to 1977. With the presentation of EIA in 1977 and Herri Batasuna in 1978, the 1974 split in ETA was now replicated in the political realm. From 1977, prominent figures from EIA and PSF began a series of reciprocal visits during which they

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  181 spoke in solidarity with their partner’s national and social struggle. Notwithstanding the existence of this Poli-Mili-‘Provo’ nexus circa 1977 to 1983, there was, in reality, far more ideological and strategic congruity between the Provisionals and the emerging Basque izquierda abertzale (ETA-m/Herri Batasuna) than between the ‘Provos’ and Poli-Milis. As José Ramón Peñagarikano notes at the top of this conclusion, personal relationships, it would appear, played a significant role in maintaining the PSF-EIA cuadrilla. Personal relationships would only go so far, however. By the early 1980s, whatever political and/or strategic rationale behind EIA’s contacts and relations with provisional Irish republicanism had begun to disintegrate. When this eventually resulted in a parting of ways circa 1983, Herri Batasuna, having seemingly laid the groundwork for closer ties with PSF around the time of Bobby Sands’ funeral, effectively occupied the space left by EIA. Moving from the party-political strand of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations to the military, speculation regarding the true nature and scope of contacts and relations between ‘ETA’ (rarely specified as ETAm or ETA-pm) and the PIRA overarched almost the entire timeframe of this chapter. Beginning with Maria McGuire’s claims in To Take Arms, a constant drip feed of ETA-IRA links around exchanges of weaponry, explosives, training camps, meetings, and so on, regularly cropped up in the media and the in-trays of British, Spanish and Irish state officials, civil servants, intelligence services and ministers. As to the veracity of these claims, in many respects, it is up to the reader to decide on a case-by-case basis. For this author, while it is clear that the PIRA had some degree of working relationship with ETA (and latterly ETA-pm and perhaps ETA-m) at various stages throughout the 1970s and early 1980s, in the absence of conclusive evidence from multiple sources to the contrary, one would have to characterise these nexuses, in global terms, as essentially unstructured and ad hoc. Coinciding with the upsurge in ETA-m and ETA-pm’s targeting of Spanish security forces in the late 1970s and early 1980s and regular media reports regarding possible ETA-IRA links, Spanish officials, ministers and even the Spanish King conveyed their concern to the British authorities. From what can be deduced from the available documentation, British intelligence sources found no “operational links” and were, as a result, not overly concerned by the spectre of such connections. London did, however, incrementally increase cooperation with Madrid regarding the two states’ shared terrorist threat. A retired Garda Síochána Assistant Commissioner who throughout his career worked specifically in this area and often liaised with his Spanish and British contemporaries, offered the following overview of the dynamics of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations: Naturally enough, if you’re going out to the continent to buy a load of weapons, you’re looking for friends to facilitate the underground dealings. So, if you know these guys, they’re going to be your first port of

182  Revolutionaries (1970–83) call, because you can depend on them, you know? And that mostly was nurtured on the political front. They [‘The Basques’] were coming here regularly. We had them numerous times […] They’d come and you’d find out who they were, but they weren’t really doing anything that would justify launching a big … you know … you could throw them out or something, but what’s the point, you know? What I’m saying is there was much bigger stuff that demanded the time of agencies everywhere, and this wasn’t a big deal because everyone knew it was going on. It wasn’t a big cog in anyone’s campaign […] The contacts may never lead to anything. They could have contacts that would be more ‘in case’, rather than ‘in action’ […] There was nobody really investigating these things. Now that may seem like a strange thing to say, but so many [other] things were happening.222 This synopsis reflects that of the terrorism scholar Peter Yanke, who, in his study of 1970s terrorist links, states that while “one could go on adducing evidence of contacts […] it is not at all an international revolutionary conspiracy”. Rather, such links were usually centred around a “network of tiny groups” who, having encountered each other in their search for arms, are “prepared to help when called upon for a meal, a night’s shelter, an overcoat, hair dye or a railway ticket”.223 Lastly, in regard to the military strand, we have seen evidence to suggest a degree of transnational learning or imitation between ETA-m/ETA-pm and the PIRA on several occasions (e.g., PIRA’s ‘invention’ of the car bomb; the technical expertise used by ETA and the PIRA to assassinate Carrero and Ewart-­Biggs; ETA-pm’s beach bombing campaign). The researchers Horowitz and Potter have identified similar patterns of imitation behavioural pathways across militant transnational alliances.224 Having accounted for the development of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations from 1970 to 1983, and how and why this nexus evolved in the way it did, what can be said of the impact of these transnational relations on the movements themselves and their respective case contexts? Throughout this period, radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans tended to position their respective cases within a global narrative arc of struggle usually grounded in anti-imperialist and revolutionary socialist rhetoric. Within this framework, the ETA/Basque Country-IRA/Northern Ireland ‘loop of association’ served, in the main, to elevate the grievances and aspirations of both political cultures out of their localised settings. For Irish republicans, (in)direct contacts and relations with radical Basque nationalists such as ETA and EIA (as well as a raft of other international actors) offered alternative propaganda avenues to counter British portrayals of the “Troubles” as a fundamentally intra-Irish, or even quasi-religious conflict. Consistently challenging Britain on this point and her historical role in Ireland was one small way in which republicans sought to build and leverage

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  183 international pressure on the UK to accede to a “withdrawal” or at least acknowledge that some sort of radical political dispensation was required. As the head of PSF’s international affairs, Richard Behal, outlined in October 1980: We have got, whether we like it or not, to be linked with international struggles. The Irish struggle on its own cannot, and will never, succeed in isolation because we are no longer just fighting Britain but fighting an international conspiracy of old colonial powers, who are hand in glove with Britain in trying to impose a solution upon us.225 For radical Basque nationalists, associations with the more widely known Irish case brought attention to Basque political issues within the Anglophone world. Given the PIRA’s reputation as “the most sophisticated urban terrorist organization in the world”,226 constant rumours of links with the ‘Provisional’ IRM (hereafter simply IRM) may have also lent a sort of latent gravitas to ETA within its izquierda abertzale milieu. Finally, both ETAs (ETA-m and ETA-pm) and the PIRA (hereafter simply IRA) tended to present their members as heroic “freedom fighters” in their respective schemas of self-legitimisation.227 In this sense, the mere existence of another ‘armed struggle’ elsewhere in Western Europe partially served to shore up justification of the other’s praxis. As one senior figure within the izquierda abertzale movement put it: [T]he situation [in the Basque Country and Ireland] is totally different; more it is in the general line of … it was in the face of an ideology that says ‘Hey, in Europe, armed struggle? No. That in Africa or Latin America [yes], [but] in Europe? No way!’ Look at the Irish, do you understand? You’re not going to say ‘look at the Corsicans’. Look at the Irish, they are serious, they are a serious organisation.228 With the effective dismantlement or near total collapse of the German RAF, Italian Brigate Rosse, and Spain’s FRAP and Grupos de Resistencia Antifascista Primero de Octubre (First of October Anti-Fascist Resistance Groups) in the late 1970s and early 1980s,229 by 1983, ETA-m (hereafter simply ETA) and the PIRA were the only “serious” armed revolutionaries left standing in western Europe. Notes

1 Treacy, The IRA, 1, 6–7. 2 “Festival of Hate,” United Irishman, September 1969. 3 Moloney, Secret History, 8. 4 Ibid., 71. Previous attempts to do away with the policy of abstention were defeated at Sinn Féin Ard Fheiseanna (plural of Ard Fheis) in 1965 and 1967. See: Hanley, “IRA considers.”

184  Revolutionaries (1970–83) 5 While both republican factions continued to use the terms ‘Sinn Féin’ and ‘IRA’, the media began to distinguish between the two by applying ‘Official’ and ‘Provisional’ labels, as well as ‘Sinn Féin—Gardiner Place’ and ‘Sinn Féin—Kevin Street’, respectively. Throughout the 1970s, ‘Provos’ and ‘Stickies’ (or ‘Sticks’) also became a shorthand (and pejorative) way to distinguishing affinity to one or other of the two factions. ‘Stickies’ and ‘Sticks’ were used in reference to the Officials because they wore adhesive-backed commemorative Easter Rising lilies. See: Hanley, IRA, 159. 6 “Commandant General Thomas Maguire’s Statement,” An Phoblacht, February 1970. 7 Sullivan, ETA, 80–88; Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla, “The origins of ETA: between Francoism and democracy, 1958–1981,” in Terrorist Campaign, eds. Leonisio, et al., 19–34. 8 “Comentarios y Proposiciones ante la Próxima Asamblea,” Documentos Y, 12: 109–15. 9 Garmendia, “ETA: Nacimiento,” 151–53; Irvin, Militant, 74. 10 “Batasuna—Problema Nacional,” Zutik! (Caracas), no. 94, Documentos Y, 8: 484–85. 11 “Prologo al Volumen X,” Documentos Y, 10: 3. 12 Demonstration at the Spanish Embassy, 25 November 1970; Demonstrations at the Spanish Embassy, 7 December 1970; The fate of Herr Beihl, 15 December 1970, Activities of Basque nationalism, FCO 9/1280, NA; “Secret trial and torture for Franco’s Basque ‘rebels’,” The Observer, 08.11.70; “The World This Week,” The Observer, 06.12.1970; Portrait of a Revolutionary, Thames Television Production. Screened on British TV, October 1975. See also: Joseba Zulaika, That Old Bilbao Moon: The Passion and Resurrection of a City (Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada, 2014), 86–92. 13 “New Vatican treaty with Franco goes to bishops,” Irish Independent, 19.12.1970. 14 “Storm over Basque protests,” Irish Press, 29.12.1970; “Basque struggle,” Waterford News and Star, 22.01.1971. 15 “Franco may show mercy,” Irish Press, 30.12.1970; EEC Employees in Brussels in silent protest, 21 December 1970, Activities of Basque nationalism, FCO 9/1280, NA; Sullivan, ETA, 92. 16 Letter to FCO, 30 December 1970, Activities of Basque national movement, FCO 9/1450, NA; “Storm over Basque protests,” Irish Press, 29.12.1970. 17 Manuel Irujo to Alec Douglas-Home, 29 December 1970, Activities of Basque nationalism, FCO 9/1280, NA. 18 “Ireland’s pleas for the Basques,” Irish Independent, 29.12.1970. 19 “Enbata,” https://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/en/enbata/ar-38969/, accessed 18 January 2023; “Appalled at unjust sentences,” Irish Examiner, 30.12.1970. 20 “Basques fight oppression,” United Irishman, January 1971; “Safe and studying in Britain, the Basque assassin,” Daily Express, 29.01.1971. 21 Coogan, IRA, 365–66; English, Freedom, 370–73; Moloney, Secret History, 83–84. 22 Robert W. White, “‘I’m not too sure what I told you the last time’. Methodological notes on accounts of high-risk activists in the Irish republican movement,” Mobilization: An International Quarterly Review 12, no. 3 (1993): 287–305. See also: Feeney, Sinn Féin, 270–71. A fourteenth ‘Bloody Sunday’ victim, John Johnston, succumbed to his injuries in June 1972. See: “Bloody Sunday,” https:// cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/bsunday/index.html, accessed 18 January 2023.

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  185 23 Irvin, Militant, 59–60. For a comprehensive account of the republican movement’s objectives at various stages, see: English, Terrorism, 42–91. 24 Patrick Bishop and Eamonn Mallie, The Provisional IRA (London: Corgi, 1988), 165–90. For a synopsis of this strategy from the PIRA itself, see: Provisional IRA, Freedom Struggle (Irish Republican Publicity Bureau, 1973). 25 David McKittrick, Seamus Kelters, Brian Feeney, and Chris Thornton, Lost Lives (Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing, 1999), 56–57, 64–65. ChichesterClark quote in: Irvin, Militant, 58. 26 “Security and Defence,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/ni/security.htm#03; “A Chronology of the Conflict – 1972,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/othelem/chron/ch72. htm, sites accessed 1 October 2019; McKittrick et  al., Lost Lives, 1473–75; “Statement issued by the Executive of the Northern Republican Clubs announcing the suspension of all armed military actions by the IRA,” https://cain.ulster. ac.uk/nai/1972/nai_DFA-2003–17–300_1972–05–29.pdf, accessed 21 December 2019. Established in 1970, the UDR was a British Army regiment recruited directly from Northern Ireland. 27 Moloney, Secret History, 112–14. 28 “Bloody Friday,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/bfriday/sum.htm, accessed 19 December 2019; “1972 The Year of Victory,” Republican News, 02.01.1972. 29 Untitled confidential note, 1 February 1971, Activities of Basque national movement, FCO 9/1450, NA. My use of italics for “cash in”. 30 Garmendia, “ETA: Nacimiento,” 162–66; Sullivan, ETA, 113–27. 31 “Euskadi—Enero—1971,” Documentos Y, 12: 284–87. 32 UK Embassy in Beirut to FCO, 30 January 1971, IRA, Political activities of Sinn Féin of Republic of Ireland, FCO 33/1593, NA. The other signatories were: The Popular Front for the Liberation of the Arab Occupied Gulf; The Front for the Liberation of Eritrea; The Front for the Liberation of Quebec; The Front for the Liberation of the Occupied Somali Coast; The Front for the Liberation of Western Occupied Somaliland; The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. 33 “Comunicado conjunto ante el 1 de Mayo, E.T.A.— I.R.A.—F.L.B.,” Zutik!, no. 63, Documentos Y, 12: 351. 34 In Brittany, where the word “republic” normally carries heavy connotations of Jacobinism, the Armée Républicaine Bretonne (ARB) was usually referred to as the Breton Revolutionary Army. For this detail, plus a short overview of Goulet’s exaggerated claims, see: Leach, Fugitive, 204–5. The ARB has been described as the “paramilitary wing” of the FLB. See: Frans Schrijver, Regionalism After Regionalisation: Spain, France and the United Kingdom (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2006), 213. See also. Brendan Anderson, Joe Cahill: A Life in the IRA (Dublin: O’Brien Press, 2002), 263–64. 35 “Comunicado conjunto ante el 1 de Mayo,” Zutik! no. 63. 36 “Información no. 85,” Documentos Y, vol. 15: 65–75. 37 “Communiqué (Irlande du Nord, 03.04.72),” Documentos Y, 12: 396; “Nortre Lutte Nationale Est Revolutionnaire,” Politique Hebdo, 29.06.1972. 38 “Manifeste de soutien à I’IRA,” Documentos Y, 12: 465–69. 39 “Ireland’s Problems in Scottish Eyes,” An Phoblacht, November 1970; “Spain and Poland: Dictatorship Condemned,” An Phoblacht, January 1971. 40 Brian Hanley, “The Politics of NORAID,” Irish Political Studies 19, no. 1 (2004): 1–17; Bishop and Mallie, Provisional, 293–301; Martin Dillon, The Dirty War (London: Arrow Books, 2001), 388, 427–30. 41 Moloney, Secret History, 3–34; Anderson, Cahill, 263; “Sinn Fein in Gaddafi U-turn: Despot who backed IRA denounced by republicans,” Belfast Telegraph,

186  Revolutionaries (1970–83) 23.02.2011. See also: Brendan O’Brien, The Long War: The IRA & Sinn Féin, 3rd ed. (Dublin: O’Brien Press, 1999), 133–53. 42 Dillon, Dirty, 426–32. 43 For example, see: “Adams urges ETA towards peace,” http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/ hi/europe/176082.stm, accessed 1 November 2019; Rogelio Alonso, “The International Dimension of ETA’s Terrorism and the Internationalization of the Conflict in the Basque Country,” Democracy and Security 7, no. 2 (2011): 184–204; Michael McKinley, “The International Dimensions of Terrorism in Ireland,” in Terrorism in Ireland, eds. Yonah Alexander and Alan O’Day (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1984), 3–31. 44 Maria McGuire, To Take Arms: My Year with the Irish Provisionals (London: MacMillan, 1973), 9–10, 71, 110; Mac Stiofáin, Revolutionary, 306–8. 45 “My gun-running bid for the Provisionals,” Irish Independent, 11.09.1972. 46 Sean O’Callaghan, The Informer (London: Corgi Books, 1999), 143. 47 Institute for the Study of Terrorism, IRA, INLA: Foreign Support and International Connections (London: 1988), 41. 48 “Basque Guerrilla Fight Influenced By IRA,” Irish Times, 18.07.1975. 49 “Un comando de ETA intentó asesinar en 1983 al ministro de Defensa de El Salvador, según un informe del Gobierno,” El País, 13.01.1984. 50 White, Ó Brádaigh, 192–94. 51 Author interview with Richard Behal, 2015. 52 White, Ashes, 107; White, Ó Brádaigh, 210–11. For Behal’s background, see: Bowyer Bell, Secret Army, 342–43; Treacy, The IRA, 92–93. “Roving Ambassador” cited in: Joint FCO-NIO paper titled Irish terrorist contacts in Europe and the Third World, May 1982, Archive Source Unknown. 53 “IRA/ETA Elkarrekin Komunikatua,” Hautsi, no. 4, Documentos Y, 16: 447–48. 54 Ely Karmon, Coalitions Between Terrorist Organisations: Revolutionaries, Nationalists and Islamists (Leiden: Matinus Nijhoff, 2005), 232 (footnote 65). 55 Brian Gallagher to Department of Foreign Affairs, 23 December 1973, Political situation in Spain, 2005/4/31, NAI. 56 “IRA ‘supplied explosives for Madrid assassination’,” The Times, 27.12.1973; “IRA linked with Premier’s killers,” Daily Mail, 27.12.1973; “‘Assassins Group’ had contact with IRA,” Sunday Independent, 30.12.1973; “French to keep close eye on IRA,” Evening Herald, 05.01.1974; “Irish help from separatists in Brittany,” Irish Times, 09.01.1974. 57 Libya and the Basques, 10 January 1974, The Basque Problem, FCO 9/ 2090, NA. 58 A report on Keogh’s article, which appeared on 23.01.1974 in Informaciones, appears in: IRA-ETA Contacts, The Basque Problem, FCO 9/2090, NA. 59 “Carrero’s ‘assassin’ hired by IRA?” Irish Press, 28.01.1974. 60 “Ex-Monk’s Room Searched,” The Daily Telegraph, 26.01.1974. 61 “ETA’s ‘good relations’ with IRA,” Irish Press, 12.03.1974. 62 “Basque Guerrilla Fight Influenced By IRA,” Irish Times, 18.07.1975. 63 White, Ó Brádaigh, 211. 64 This excerpt is taken from an English translation that appeared in An Phoblacht. According to the same source, the original statement was published in a Piedmontese newspaper, La Voce Communista. Apart from PSF and ETA, other signatories to the statement reportedly included a Sardinian newspaper Su populu sardu; Groep Sonde (Frisian); “the Harpeitan movement ALPA”; Were Di (Flemish), and La Voce Communista itself, “on behalf of the Piedmontese liberation movement”. See: “Shaping the New Europe,” An Phoblacht, 06.09.1974.

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  187 65 Points which may arise in the Anglo-Irish context in discussions with the Spanish Foreign Minister, Spanish Foreign Minister – Visit to Dublin, 1976, 2008/148/335, NAI. 66 Julen Aguirre (pseud. Eva Forest), Operación Ogro: Cómo y por qué ejecutamos a Carrero Blanco (Hendaye: Ediciones Mugalde, 1974); David Mota Zurdo, En Manos del Tío Sam: ETA y Estados Unidos (Granada: Comares Historia, 2021), 53–57. 67 Letter from Charles V. Whelan, 1 January 1974, Confidential reports from Madrid, 2005/4/64, NAI. 68 Hanley and Millar, Revolution, 220, 264–68; Irvin, Militant, 56. 69 “Far & Near,” United Irishman, April 1972. 70 Hanley and Millar, Revolution, 149. 71 Author interview with Eoin Ó Murchú, 2017. 72 “International Solidarity,” United Irishman, May 1972. 73 “Their Victory is our Victory,” United Irishman, January 1973; “Basque Guerrilla Fight Influenced By IRA,” Irish Times, 18.07.1975. 74 Núñez Seixas, Patriotas, 116. My translation from a French excerpt of the Brest Charter, kindly provided by Liam O’Rourke. Author interview with Eoin Ó Murchú, 2017. 75 Irvin, Militant, 76–77; Watson, Modern, 390. For HAS’s “adhesion” to the Brest Charter in 1974, see: “La Carta de Brest,” https://homenatgecala.wordpress.com/2013/05/01/la-carta-de-brest-lalianca-entre-el-pais-basc-galicia-iels-­paisos-catalans/#; “Hai 40 años: la carta de Brest,” https://ateneuacebal. wordpress.com/2014/02/03/hai-40-anos-la-carta-de-brest/, sites accessed 8 November 2019. 76 Author interview with Eoin Ó Murchú, 2017. 77 Official Sinn Féin Anti-Imperialist Festival in Dublin and Belfast, 1974, International Marxist Conference in NI, 1974, FCO 95/1682, NA; “Irish Festival,” United Irishman, February 1974; “International Event,” United Irishman, April 1974; “Anti-Imperialist Festival,” United Irishman, June 1974. 78 The Sunningdale Agreement, signed in December 1973 by the Irish and British governments, was brought down in the summer of 1974 by an alliance of loyalist workers who were deeply unhappy with the terms of the agreement. The ‘Irish Dimension’ of the Sunningdale Agreement envisaged a Council of Ireland made up of a Council of Ministers with executive powers and a Consultative Assembly. See: “The Sunningdale Agreement,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/ sunningdale/, accessed 5 April 2020. 79 Irish Republican Army (International Guerrilla Festival), HC Deb, 27 June 1974, vol. 875, https://hansard.parliament.uk/commons/1974–06–27/debates/ 4bff186e-2cc5-4c7b-aaa1–866c9914b4c2/IrishRepublicanArmy(InternationalG uerrillaFestival), accessed 28 September 2022. 80 “Sinn Féin’s ‘international festival’ alarms unionists,” The Guardian, 13.06.1974. 81 Official Sinn Féin Anti-Imperialist Festival, NA. 82 Official Sinn Féin Anti-Imperialist Festival, NA; Seán Ó Cionnaith to Garret FitzGerald, Undated, Garret FitzGerald Papers, P215/722, UCDA. For a collage of negative press coverage, see: “Anti-Imperialist Festival,” United Irishman, August 1974. For some individual examples, see: “Garda bid to prevent extremist summit,” Irish Independent, 14.06.1974; “Guerrilla think-in storm,” Daily Mirror, 13.06.1974; “A world festival of fear,” Daily Mail, 13.06.1974. 83 “Mac Giolla’s message to the festival delegates,” United Irishman, August 1974; “Festival,” United Irishman, September 1974. 84 “Festival,” United Irishman, September 1974.

188  Revolutionaries (1970–83) 85 “Festival,” United Irishman, August 1974. 86 Garmendia, “ETA: Nacimiento,” 168. 87 Irvin, Militant, 76–77; Jáuregui, “ETA: Orígenes,” 264–65; Sánchez-Cuenca, “Dynamics.” 88 Hanley and Millar, Revolution, 283–301, 315–24. 89 Richard Behal to Irish Republican Information Service (IRIS), 21 February 1975, MS 44,177/3; Letter from Richard Behal, 31 May 1975, MS 44,177/4, Sean O’Mahony Papers, NLI. 90 Author interview with Richard Behal, 2015. 91 Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, ETA: Estrategia Organizativa y Actuaciones 1978–1992 (Bilbao: Servicio Editorial de la Universidad del País Vasco, 1998), 128; Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, Josu Ternera: Una Vida En ETA (Madrid: La Esfera de los libros, 2006), 89. 92 Iker Casanova, ETA 1958–2008: Medio Siglo de Historia, 5th ed. (Tafalla: Txalaparta, 2014), 144. 93 “Open File,” The Guardian, 22.05.1974. 94 Anonymous source. 95 Casanova, ETA, 176. 96 Portrait of a Revolutionary. 97 “¡Fusialdos! El principio del fin del franquismo,” https://www.elconfidencial.com/ espana/2015–09–20/fusiladlos-el-principio-del-fin-del-franquismo_1024329/, accessed 14 March 2023. 98 “Call for Ambassador to return,” Irish Times, 30.09.1975. 99 “E.E.C. split charge on Irish plan over envoy to Spain,” Irish Times, 03.10.1975. 100 Withdrawal of Ambassador, DE Deb, 11 Dec 1975, vol. 286, no. 9, www.oireachtas.ie/en/debates/debate/dail/1975-12-11/27/, accessed 1 November 2019. 101 British Embassy, Dublin to Republic of Ireland Department, FCO, 2 October 1975, Internal Situation (including Trial of Basques), FCO WSS 1/7, NA; “Recalled Ambassadors to return to Madrid,” Irish Times, 03.10.1975; Sullivan, ETA, 163; “Los Comités Vascos de Europa se definen como abertzales,” Egin, 10.08.1978. 1 02 Ferran Gallego, El mito de la Transición: La crisis del Franquismo y los orígenes de la democracia (1973–1977) (Madrid: Crítica, 2008). 1 03 Wilson was released in 1977 as part of the amnesty process. Expelled to Norway, he later returned to the Basque Country. See: “Fallece Ignacio Pérez Beotegui ‘Wilson’, histórico dirigente de ETA,” La Vanguardia, 12.03.2008. The last ETA prisoner left jail on 9 December 1977. Cited in: Fernández Soldevilla, “Origins of ETA.” 1 04 Gallego, Mito; Paul Preston, The Triumph of Democracy in Spain (London: Methuen, 1986). 105 Points which may arise, NAI. Irish-Spanish exchanges during this period began with the visit of a group of Irish parliamentarians to Madrid in September 1976. See: Visit of Irish Parliamentarians to Spain—September 1976, 2009/81/111, NAI. 106 Charles Whelan to the Department of Foreign Affairs, 5 April 1977, PR’s from Madrid, 2010/19/592, NAI. 107 Speech delivered by the Minister for Foreign Affairs, D. Marcelino Oreja, at the dinner offered to the Minister for Foreign Affairs of Ireland, Mr. Garret FitzGerald, Visit of Irish Foreign Minister to Spain, 2009/81/131, NAI. 08 Julio-César Santoyo, Irlandeses y vascos: Evolución histórica de una leyenda 1 (Durango: Leopoldo Zugaza, 1979).

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  189 109 Meeting between the President of the Spanish Government, Mr. Adolfo Suárez and the Taoiseach in Iveagh House, Dublin, Thursday, 20 October 1977, Spanish Prime Minister Visit to Dublin, October 1977, 2007/116/666, NAI. 110 Responsible for 72 deaths between 1968 and 1977, ETA (from 1974: ETA-m, ETA-pm), as well as the CAA, claimed 65 victims in 1978, 79 in 1979 and 94 in 1980. See: “Víctimas mortales de ETA, 1968–2010,” https://www.arovite.com/ es/portfolio-items/victimas-mortales-de-eta-1968–2010/, accessed 14 September 2022; Raul López Romo and Bárbara Van der Leeuw, “Forjando nación desde abajo: violencia e identidades en el País Vasco y el Ulster,” Cuadernos de Historia Contemporánea 35 (2013): 15–39. 111 “Sinn Féin Árd Fheis,” Eolas, February-March 1976. 112 Watson, Modern, 390; Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla and Raúl López Romo, Sangre, Votos, Manifestaciones: ETA y el nacionalismo vasco radical, 1958–2011 (Madrid: Tecnos, 2012), 80. 113 “Letter,” United Irishman, June 1976. 114 “Anti-Imperialist Festival ’76,” United Irishman, August 1976. 115 “Offer to genuine revolutionaries,” Republican News, 31.07.1976. 116 Ibid. 117 “Irlanda del Norte. Entre las armas y el parlamento (I),” PHEH, 04– 10.08.1977. See also: “Basques, Sinn Féin and the Brest Charter,” Hibernia, 20.01.1978. 118 Fernández Soldevilla and López Romo, Sangre, 84; Jáuregui, “ETA: Orígenes”; “Euskal Iraultzarako Alderdia,” http://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/eu/ euskal-iraultzarako-alderdia/ar-43107/, accessed 16 October 2019. Quote in: Murua, Ending ETA, 19. 119 Fernández Soldevilla and López Romo, Sangre, 97–112; Murua, Ending ETA, 19–20. 120 Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla, “Euskadi Ezkerra,” in Laberinto, coord. Rubio Pobes, 396–97. EIA only became a legal party in January 1978. See: “Ayer fue legalizado EIA,” Egin, 19.01.1978. 121 “Herriko Alderdi Sozialista Iraultzailea,” http://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza. eus/artikuluak/artikulua.php?id=eu&ar=53028&ep=43037, accessed 8 October 2019. 122 Jesús Casquete, “Herri Batasuna,” in Laberinto, coord. Rubio Pobes, 401–15; “Herri Batasuna,” http://aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus/eu/herri-batasuna/ar59231/, accessed 8 October 2019. 123 Irvin, Militant, 115. 124 Hanley and Millar, Revolution, 131–32. 125 Author interview with Paddy Woodworth, 2015. 126 Irvin, Militant, 111. 127 Author interview with Paddy Woodworth, 2015. 128 Report sent from British Embassy, Dublin to Republic of Ireland Department titled Provisional Sinn Féin Árd Fheis, 27 October 1976, Provisional Sinn Féin, CJ4/2376, NA; “Republican external links,” An Phoblacht, 10.08.1977. 129 “Third World messages to Ardfheis ’77,” An Phoblacht, 26.10.1977. 130 “An Ardfheis Ab Fhearr,” An Phoblacht, 26.10.1977; “How greatly Scotland Yard fears the Irish truth,” An Phoblacht, 02.11.1977. 131 Presidential Address of Ruairí Ó Brádaigh, Provisional Sinn Féin, CJ4/2376, NA; “Rory O’Bradaigh, presidente del Sinn Fein (provisional), en Euskadi,” Egin, 30.11.1977; “Basques, Sinn Féin and the Brest Charter, Hibernia, 20.01.1978; FCO-NIO paper, May 1982.

190  Revolutionaries (1970–83) 32 “Comunicado de EIA,” Egin, 30.11.1977. 1 133 “Good wishes extended to Basques,” Irish Examiner, 03.01.1978. 134 Author interview with Paddy Woodworth, 2015. 135 Author interview with Gerry McAlinden, 2017. 136 “H.A.S.I. ETA HERRI ZAPALDUAK CON LOS PUEBLOS OPRIMIDOS,” Egin, 11.11.1977; “Las naciones oprimidas de Europa, por la independencia y el socialismo,” Egin, 13.11.1977. 137 Author interview with Gerry McAlinden, 2017; “Las naciones oprimidas de Europa, por la independencia y el socialismo,” Egin, 13.11.1977. 138 Mees, Contention. Mees’ Basque ‘contention’ thesis centres around three overlapping dimensions: 1). The ethical dimension, related to ETA’s campaign of political violence, which has now ceased to be a factor. 2). The political dimension, meaning the debate over the politico-administrative relationship(s) between the Basque Country and the Spanish and French states. 3). The inner-BasqueNavarrese search for a consensus regarding the intra-relationship between the two entities and with Spain and France. Tilly, McAdam and Tarrow’s shorthand definition for contentious politics is that of a “collective political struggle” that involves at least one government and a political claim, which, if realised, would “affect the interests of at least one of the claimants”. See: Doug McAdam, Sidney Tarrow, and Charles Tilly, Dynamics of Contention (Cambridge: Cambridge Press, 2001), 5. 139 Whitfield, Endgame, 46–47. 140 Mees, Contention, 128–32. KAS Alternatiba is reproduced in: Santiago de Pablo, José Luis de la Granja, and Ludger Mees, eds., Documentos para la historia del nacionalismo vasco: De los Fueros a nuestros días (Barcelona: Editorial Ariel, S.A., 1998), 153–55. KAS Alternatiba demands included the “establishment of unrestricted democratic freedoms”, “total amnesty”, “dissolution of repressive bodies” in the Basque Country, “recognition of Euskadi’s national sovereignty”, and the “immediate establishment, on a provisional basis, of a statute of autonomy for South Euskadi”. For quote, see: “La Alternativa KAS, única vía democrática para conseguir el armisticio,” Zuzen, November 1983. 141 In Navarre, the results were 75.7% in favour; 17.0% against; 6.4% blank, and 0.9% null, on a turnout of 66.6%. See: “Referendum Constitución Española en otros ámbitos. 6 diciembre 1978,” https://www.bcn.cat/estadistica/angles/dades/ telec/ref/ref78/r22.htm, accessed 11 January 2020. 142 Gorka Etxebarria Dueñas, “Mantener la Hipótesis Revolucionaria: ETA(M) y el Otoño de los Setenta en Euskadi (1977–1978),” in Las otras Protagonistas de la Transición: Izquierda Radical y Movimientos Sociales, coord. Fundación Salvador Seguí-Madrid (Madrid: FSS Ediciones, 2018), 877–90; Fernández Soldevilla, “Origins of ETA.” 143 For the origin of the Long War doctrine in Irish republicanism in the mid-1970s, see: Moloney, Secret History, 150–51. For a comparative analysis of the IRA and ETA’s respective “wars of attrition” against the British and Spanish states, see: Sánchez-Cuenca, “Dynamics.” 144 Moloney, Secret History, 117. 145 While the prevailing view is that the PIRA was weakened, some maintain that the organisation was, in fact, strengthened. For a nuanced discussion of this issue and the talks themselves, see: Niall Ó Dochartaigh, “‘Everyone Trying’, the IRA Ceasefire, 1975: A Missed Opportunity for Peace?” Field Day Review 7 (2011): 50–77. For the reorganisation of the PIRA, see: Moloney, Secret History, 156–58. 146 Von Tangen Page, Prisons, 58–61.

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  191 147 Hanley, IRA, 188; Moloney, Secret History, 150–51. 148 Regarding the ‘Official’ movement’s rejection of violence, in reality the OIRA continued to exist well into the late 1980s with members becoming involved in criminality and racketeering. See: Hanley and Millar, Revolution, 381, 401–21. 149 “Spaniard Quizzed,” Irish Press, 23.05.1978; “Bandrés, interrogado en el aeropuerto de Londres,” Egin, 23.05.1978. 150 “Solidarity Groups Attend Convention,” Irish Republican Information Service (IRIS) 3, no. 52, 25.10.1978. 151 Report from British Embassy, Dublin to Republic of Ireland Department, FCO, 26 October 1978, Provisional Sinn Féin, CJ4/2376, NA. 152 Ibid. 153 “Los independistas irlandeses contra el imperialismo,” Egin, 07.11.1978. For the IRA’s use of these methods, see: Moloney, Secret History, 153. 154 “Comandos del IRA detectados en el País Vasco,” El País, 28.01.1979; “IRA men are helping Basques—Madrid report,” Irish News, 29.01.1979; The Daily Mail, 29.01.1979. 155 Terrorism, HC Deb, 1 February 1979, vol. 961 cc1658–62, https://api.­ parliament.uk/historic-hansard/commons/1979/feb/01/terrorism, accessed 2 November 2019. 156 ETA/IRA Links, 2 March 1979, IRA Activities Overseas, FCO 87/946, NA. 157 “Ruairi O’ Bradaigh’s speech in Basque Country,” An Phoblacht/Republican News (AP/RN), 24.02.1979. 158 FCO-NIO paper, May 1982; “Ruairi O’ Bradaigh’s speech in Basque Country,” AP/RN, 24.02.1979. 159 Author interview with Paddy Woodworth, 2015. See also: “The Saturday Column,” Irish Times, 17.02.1979. 160 “National and Social Liberation are two sides of the same coin,” AP/RN, 31.03.1979. 161 FCO-NIO paper, May 1982. 162 The other signatories to the communique were cited in a British document as: OUT (Portugal); Fretelin (East Timor), FAI (Indonesia), FLPLE (Eritrea), FLA (Arabic), SWAPO (Namibia), PS (CNR) – (Chile), MPLN (Bolivia), MIR (Dominican Republic), FSLN (Nicaragua), PVP (Uruguay). See: Translation of article from Voz de Povo, 1 June 1979 (abridged), The Basque Problem, FCO 9/2876, NA. 163 See: “European Political Prisoners Conference,” AP/RN, 07.04.1979; “Special branch harass European delegates,” AP/RN, 21.04.1979; “Irish prisoners lead the struggle”, AP/RN, 28.04.1979; “Basque Revolutionaries Attend Conference,” Irish Republican Information Service 3, no. 74, 28.04.1979. 164 Irish Republican Army (Terrorist Conspiracy), HC Deb, 5 July 1979, vol. 969, https://hansard.parliament.uk/commons/1979-07-05/debates/22979d2f-548a4ca7–9de1-fddc29927569/IrishRepublicanArmy(TerroristConspiracy), accessed 25 October 2019. 165 Sir Antony Acland (British Embassy, Madrid) to M.J. Newington, Republic of Ireland Dpt., FCO, 3 July 1979, Madrid, Irish Activities Overseas, FCO 87/946, NA. 166 “Summit Meeting of Terror,” Sunday Mirror, 12.08.1979. 167 O’Callaghan, Informer, 143. For ETA-pm’s tourist bombing campaign of 1979, see: Fernández Soldevilla, “Origins of ETA.” 168 “International support for total British withdrawal from Ireland,” Irish Republican Information Service 4, no. 5, 19.01.1980.

192  Revolutionaries (1970–83) 169 Confidential report from Antony Acland to FCO, D5 June 1979, Irish Activities Overseas, FCO 87/946, NA. 170 Anglo-Spanish cooperation in counter-terrorism, 28 August 1979, IRA Activities Overseas, FCO 87/946, NA; ETA/IRA Links, 3 September 1979, IRA Activities Overseas, FCO 87/946, NA. 171 Anglo-Spanish Cooperation in Counter Terrorism, August 1979, IRA activities overseas, FCO 87/946, NA. 172 Terrorism and Tourism, 6 September 1979, PR’s from Madrid, 2010/19/592, NAI. 173 “Los años de ‘Txomin’ y ‘Josu Ternera’,” http://especiales.ideal.es/2006/eta/­ historia/1977_etas02.html, accessed 27 October 2019; Fearghal McGarry, Frank Ryan (Dublin: UCD Press, 2010), 92; O’Callaghan, Informer, 143; Alonso, “International Dimension.” 174 ETA/IRA Links, 3 September 1979, IRA Activities Overseas, FCO 87/946, NA. 175 Confidential Letter, 6 June 1979, IRA Activities Overseas, FCO 87/946, NA. 176 “Sinn Féin President Visits Basque Country,” AP/RN, 29.03.1980; FCO-NIO paper, May 1982. 177 “Euskadi Ezkerra junto al Sinn Féin,” Hitz, no. 5, January 1980. 178 Author interview with José Ramón Peñagarikano, 2017. 179 Ibid. Ó Brádaigh, Behal and Howell cited in: White, Ó Brádaigh, 262. 180 Author interview with José Ramón Peñagarikano, 2017. 181 Santiago de Pablo, Creadores de Sombras (Madrid: Tecnos, 2017), 207–14. 182 Der Spiegel, 07.04.1980. English translation of the above excerpt is taken from an untitled report in: IRA activities overseas, FCO 87/1041, NA. 183 Claire Sterling, The Terror Network (New York: Berkley Books, 1981). 184 Basque Developments (II), 29 July 1980, Political situation in Spain, 2010/19/85, NAI. Other reports have linked radical Basque nationalists and the PIRA with exchanges of Semtex and Goma 2. See: “The Rifles of the IRA,” Magill, March 1978; “Adams urges ETA towards peace,” http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/­ europe/176082.stm, accessed 1 November 2019. 185 Cited in: FCO-NIO paper, May 1982; Message from HQ [Dublin] to Madrid, 9 July 1982, References to alleged IRA links with foreign terrorist organisations, 840/1985, NAI. 186 Domínguez Iribarren, ETA: Estrategia, 115; Ternera, 90. 187 Anonymous interview. 188 “The Hunger Strike of 1981 – A Chronology of the Main Events,” https://cain. ulster.ac.uk/events/hstrike/chronology.htm, accessed 7 January 2019); “Timeline of the 1980 Hunger Strike,” Irish Times, 18.12.2015. The prisoner protest eventually centred around five key demands: 1. The right not to wear a prison uniform; 2. The right not to do prison work; 3. The right of free association with other prisoners, and to organise educational and recreational facilities; 4. The right to one visit, one letter and one parcel per week; 5. Restoration of remission lost during the strike. 189 “International Solidarity”; “Hunger Strike Protests Abroad,” AP/RN, 08.11.1980. See also: “Irlanda, la lucha que nunca acaba,” Hitz, no. 9, November 1980. 190 “Hunger Strike Protests Abroad,” AP/RN, 15.11.1980. 191 “Euskadi,” AP/RN, 22.11.1980. 192 “European support,” AP/RN, 08.12.1980. 193 Grupo Parlamentario Nacionalistas Vascos to Queen Elizabeth II, 18 December 1980—Translation of ambassador’s reply to Josu Bergara, The Basque Problem, FCO 9/3300, NA. 194 “Rethinking the 1980/1981 Hunger Strikes,” Irish Times, 27.10.2015.

Revolutionaries (1970–83)  193 195 Raymond McCreesh to ‘The ETA,’ 9 February 1981, Long Kesh. Letter kindly made available to me by Danny Morrison. 196 For example, see: Coogan, IRA, 502–11; Moloney, Secret History, 208–15. 197 Author interview with Iñaki Ruiz de Pinedo, 2017; Herri Batasuna, Herri Batasuna: 20 años de lucha por la libertad (Donostia: Herri Batasuna, 1999), 408. 198 Author interview with Iñaki Ruiz de Pinedo, 2017. 199 Author interview with Alexander Ugalde Zubiri, 2017. 200 “El Gobierno de Londres dejó morir al diputado Bobby Sands,” Egin, 06.05.1981; “Entrevista con el jefe militar IRA del Seamus Twomey,” PHEH, 08–15.05.1981; “Irlanda será libre,” “Terrorismo de Estado. Asesinato institucional,” “El IRA, la ‘cuestión irlandesa,’ ‘la ejemplar democracia británica’,” PHEH, 15–22.05.1981; “La energúmena del 10 Downing Street,” PHEH, 05– 12.06.1981; “Irlanda al rojo vivo,” Hitz, no. 12, May 1981. 201 “Sean Sands: ‘Orgullo imperial británico’,” PHEH, 04–18.09.1981. 202 Author interview with Eugenio Etxebeste, 2017. 203 Author interview with José Ramón Peñagarikano, 2017. 204 Begoña Aretxaga, States of Terror: Begoña Aretxaga’s Essays (Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada Press, 2012), 36–37. 205 “International Solidarity,” AP/RN, 05.11.1981. 206 Taylor, Provos, 282. 207 Author interview with Paddy Woodworth, 2015. See also: “Basque Congress,” AP/RN, 08.04.1982; The IRA and Overseas Revolutionaries, 3 June 1983, Spain Terrorism (ETA), FCO 9/4229, NA. 208 Author interview with Paddy Woodworth, 2015. 209 Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla, “ETA Político-Militar, de Principio a Fin,” in Héroes de la retirada, coord. Fernández Soldevilla et al., 133–67. 210 The IRA and Overseas Revolutionaries, June 1983, Spain Terrorism (ETA), FCO 9/4229, NA. 211 Author interview with José Ramón Peñagarikano, 2017; Author interview with Eduardo “Teo” Uriarte, 2016; Author interview with Javier Olaverri, 2017. 212 In the March 1979 Spanish General Election, Herri Batasuna received more than double the votes of Euskadiko Ezkerra. See: “Elecciones Generales de 1 de marzo de 1979,” https://app.congreso.es/consti/elecciones/generales/resultados. jsp?fecha=01/03/1979, accessed 14 January 2020. 213 Casanova, ETA, 245–46. 214 Author interview with José Ramón Peñagarikano, 2017. 215 “International support for Sinn Féin,” AP/RN, 17.11.1983 216 “International Solidarity,” AP/RN, 08.11.1980. 217 Anonymous interview. Italics used to denote stress on certain words used by the interviewee. 218 Author interview with José Ramón Peñagarikano, 2017. 219 For historical analogies between Ulster and Navarre, see: Martin Blink horn, “‘The Basque Ulster’: Navarre and the Basque Autonomy Question under the Spanish Second Republic,” The Historical Journal 17, no. 3 (1974): 595–613; “Four Green Fields” is the title of an Irish folk song written by Tommy Makem. 220 For an overview of Provisional contacts and relations in Europe and elsewhere in the 1970s, see: McKinley, “Alien Influences.” 221 Bishop and Mallie, Provisional IRA, 307–8. 222 Author interview with a retired Garda Síochána Assistant Commissioner, 2017. 223 Cited in: McKinley, “International Dimensions,” 5. 224 Horowitz and Potter, “Allying.”

194  Revolutionaries (1970–83) 25 “Sinn Féin National Education Seminar,” AP/RN, 04.10.1980. 2 226 Cited in: Hearing before the Committee on International Relations House of Representatives, One Hundred Seventh Congress, Second Session, April 24, 2002, Serial No. 107–87, 104. P14,913, Linenhall Library Belfast [LLB]. 227 Robert G. Picard, “How Violence Is Justified: Sinn Féin’s An Phoblacht,” Journal of Communication 41, no. 4 (1991): 90–103; Muro, Ethnicity, 11. 228 Anonymous interview. 229 Avilés Farré, “Tercera ola.”

6 ‘One Struggle’ The Forging of a Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)

From the moment Bobby Sands was elected MP for Fermanagh and South Tyrone in April 1981, the Irish republican movement embarked on a long march towards entering ‘normal’ electoral politics. For some commentators and many of the party’s political opponents, this journey is still ongoing.1 Two months after Sands’ election, IRA members Paddy Agnew and Kieran Doherty were returned as abstentionist TDs to Dáil Éireann. As with Sands, both were incarcerated in Long Kesh and ran under an ‘Anti H-Block’ banner. Building on this success, Sands’ election agent Owen Carron maintained the late republican’s Fermanagh and South Tyrone seat in a by-election. In 1982, Sinn Féin and their moderate nationalist rival in Northern Ireland, the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP), ran on abstentionist tickets for a newly proposed Northern Ireland Assembly (NIA), with Sinn Féin taking five seats and the SDLP 14. Given Sinn Féin’s low political base, however, the party’s electoral campaign was deemed a major success.2 More Sinn Féin electoral gains came in 1983 when Alex Maskey became the party’s first representative voted on to Belfast City Council since 1920. Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams also claimed victory for his party in the West Belfast constituency of the UK General Election. Finally, in 1984, Sinn Féin’s Danny Morrison gathered a respectable 13.3% of first-preference votes in his bid to become a Member of the European Parliament (MEP) for Northern Ireland.3 Lest there be any suspicion of a ‘slide’ towards constitutional politics off the back of electoral success, IRA ‘spectaculars’ such as the Brighton bombing of 1984—which saw the IRA narrowly fail in an audacious attempt to kill British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and her entire cabinet—went some way to allaying the fears of the movement rank and file.4 So did the words of leading republicans such as Martin McGuinness, who stated that same year: “Without the IRA we are on our knees. Without the IRA we are slaves. For 15 years this generation of republicans have been off their knees. We will never be slaves again”.5 The message was clear: While Sinn Féin’s electoral advances were to be welcomed, there would be no ceasefire. The IRA’s war against the British State would continue until the latter declared its intention to “withdraw”. DOI: 10.4324/9781003368045-6

196  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) Having rejected the Spanish Constitution, Herri Batasuna maintained its primacy over EIA(EE) as the leading voice of left-wing Basque nationalism in elections to the new Basque Autonomous Community in 1980, winning 16.5% of the vote and 11 (abstentionist) seats in the 60-seat chamber. Despite a slight drop in popularity, HB attracted a 10% plus vote share in a succession of Basque and Navarrese provincial and municipal elections held in 1983 and in the second BAC election of 1984.6 Regarding ETA’s campaign of violence, hopes that a post-Transition agreement could be reached between Felipe González’s newly elected PSOE administration in Madrid (1982) and the paramilitaries were dashed when multiparty talks between HB, PNV and Partido Socialista de Euskadi (PSE, Socialist Party of Euskadi, the regional affiliate of PSOE) came to nothing.7 Unable to bend the Spanish body politic to its will, ETA would soon find itself on the back foot. A ‘Dirty War’ against the organisation, secretly organised and implemented by elements within the PSOE government, was launched in 1983. Aimed at disrupting ETA’s ‘sanctuary’ in France, at least 27 people, many of whom had no connection whatsoever with ETA, would die at the hands of the shadowy Grupos Antiterroristas de Liberación (GAL, Anti-Terrorist Liberation Groups) between 1983 and 1987 in this ‘war’.8 Augmenting the narrative ‘loop of association’ drawn between the political and military cultures of radical Basque nationalism and Irish republicanism throughout the 1970s and early 1980s, dual emerging threats to the BIA and IRM, such as political isolation and Dirty Wars in each territory,9 would add extra layers to the nexus dynamic and gradually encourage the development of closer relations across multiple strands (e.g., political, prisoner, language, women, youth). Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations would thus become more diverse and intense. Running almost in parallel, the development of the Irish peace process and the end of the IRA’s Long War against the British State increasingly captured the imagination of radical and moderate Basque nationalists alike. Switching between themes, time periods and contexts, this chapter tracks both of these often-overlapping dynamics until the historic Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement of 1998. Towards a Multistrand Nexus (Part I) To our black brothers and sisters in Africa, and especially those who struggle under apartheid in South Africa, we express solidarity. To those in Central America, oppressed by totalitarian regimes, to the Palestinians, deprived of a homeland, to the Basques and to all men and women denied freedom and to people committed to gaining freedom, we pledge our solidarity, mindful that the successful conclusion of our struggle is a victory for you, just as a victory for you is a victory for us. (Excerpt from Gerry Adams’ 1984 Ard Fheis speech)10

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  197 As Frampton and Guelke note in their respective studies, during the early 1980s, Sinn Féin’s FAB began to firmly ally and align itself with the South African (African National Congress, ANC) and Palestinian (Palestine Liberation Organization, PLO) struggles.11 Indeed, throughout the decade Sinn Féin often referred to the Irish struggle as being effectively “one” with that of South Africa and/or Palestine.12 The rationale for Sinn Féin to conjoin the Irish case with that of South Africa during the 1980s undoubtedly made sense in terms of international propaganda; the same went for Palestine, even if it did not generate an equivalent level of universal sympathy. By contrast, in the Anglophone/Western world, the Basque case was mainly considered an internal Spanish matter, difficult to comprehend, and for the IRM at the time, of limited international, associational value. Within the broad milieu of the Basque izquierda abertzale, socialist revolutionaries in Latin America, especially the Frente Sandinista de Liberación Nacional (FSLN, Sandinista National Liberation Front) in Nicaragua, tended to serve as the leading international references for the movement throughout the 1980s. This primary attraction to Latin American was also shared by Josu Ternera, the de facto head of ETA’s International Apparatus during the same period. Whilst important, the Irish case and the IRM, by contrast, simply did not feature as often in radical Basque nationalist literature.13 Although neither the IRM nor BIA saw in the other their main international reference for most of the 1980s, contacts and relations between both movements, as well as more frequent political culture and case comparisons (as opposed to a heretofore overriding focus on ETA and the IRA), slowly began to build and funnel out from HB’s first official attendance at the Sinn Féin Ard Fheis of November 1983. Some examples from 1984 shall suffice in illustrating this process. For instance, a BBC documentary titled The Basques, aired in March 1984, was noted in AP/RN as exposing “many similarities” between the two cases—a sentiment echoed in a PHEH review of the programme later that month.14 In the same issue of PHEH, parallels were also drawn between a recent assassination attempt on Gerry Adams’ life and the GAL’s Dirty War in the Basque Country: The dirty war is also present in Northern Ireland. The Northern Irish situation and that of Euskadi, although with logical differences, seem to run parallel from one corner of Europe to the other. Even this week the media highlighted the exchange between Minister [of the Interior] [José] Barrionuevo and British experts in the fight against Northern Ireland’s ‘terrorism’.15 Eight months later, GAL claimed its most high-profile victim when Adams’ closest Basque equivalent, Santi Brouard, the President of HASI and arguably the most respected political figure in HB’s directorate leadership cadre, was gunned down as he left his paediatric clinic.16

198  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) The same month that Brouard was killed, Adams gave an exclusive interview to a “Rex Morrison” for PHEH at the Ard Fheis: We look with great sympathy to the Basque people and their struggle, because there are many characteristics that unite us; because both peoples suffer similar forms of repression, as is the case with extraditions […] Both peoples are marching towards our liberation and the advances of one give strength to the other; the victory of one people is the victory of all peoples.17 Also appearing at the 1984 Ard Fheis, for the second year in a row, was HB’s Juan Okiñena. During his intervention, Okiñena spoke out against the extradition of ETA militants from France to Spain and the forced expulsion of others. Finally, rounding off the year, FAB representatives Denis Donaldson and Bairbre de Brún spoke at a conference on minority languages in Italy, where a Herri Batasuna delegation joined them.18 Seeking to build on its promising early 1980s electoral results, in 1985 Sinn Féin contested local elections in Northern Ireland for the first time since proscription of the party had been lifted (1974). In what was a successful day at the polling booth, Sinn Féin won 59 seats on a vote share of 11.8%.19 One of the party’s newly elected councillors was Pat Rice. Working in Sinn Féin’s international and cultural departments, Rice would become one of a handful of key brokers in the development of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations from the mid-1980s onwards. Rice’s personal connections with the Basque Country happened to go back a lot further. Born in Armagh in 1941, Rice took up an opportunity to teach English in San Sebastián in 1968. During his time in the Basque Country, Rice was occasionally asked to give talks on the unfolding situation in Ireland; he also translated documents for the defence lawyer Miguel Castells during the Burgos Trial. Of more speculative significance, one of Rice’s students in San Sebastián happened to be the future ETA leader Eugenio Etxebeste (Antxon).20 Returning home in 1971, Rice recollects being “more radicalised than when I had gone and with maybe other ideas of what had to be done here [in Northern Ireland]”. Finding that his politics squared with ‘Provisional’ republicanism, he joined PSF: “Apart from [language activism], we would have helped with whatever we could as well … eventually that led to greater involvement [in the movement]”. He recalls ‘the changeover’ period between Sinn Féin and its Basque political partners in the early-to-mid 1980s as follows: When I started to do a bit of work for the [Sinn Féin] international department, I remember hearing that there was some relationship with the Poli-Milis and I did say that I thought our situation and their situation … the relationship would be… it would be more natural that it should be with those who were close to, or understood, the thinking of

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  199 ETA-Militara. I remember saying that, but that was the way it was moving anyway, as far as I know. I don’t think I changed that or anything. I just knew that there had been some relations with the Poli-Milis. Owing to his personal experience and interest in Basque affairs, Rice quickly became a sounding board for all things Basque-related within Sinn Féin. Moreover, his home would become a hub for “hundreds” of Basque izquierda abertzale grassroots activists and political representatives who, for various reasons, found themselves in Belfast over the years.21 The mass election of Sinn Féin councillors such as Rice in 1985 brought home the reality to the UK and Irish governments that a party which essentially endorsed political violence had a not-insignificant minority of support among the electorate in Northern Ireland. Partly in response, the two governments signed the Anglo-Irish Agreement of November 1985, paving the way for cross-border cooperation in juridical and security matters whilst granting the Irish State a consultative role in Northern Ireland’s affairs.22 There were external consequences too. Reacting to the prospect of elected Sinn Féin political representatives travelling and propagandising on the continent, one FCO in London wondered “whether we might approach […] Western European Governments to keep out [Sinn Féin] members”.23 Several encounters on the continent involving Irish republican and/or radical Basque nationalist elements were reported in the media in the mid-1980s. For example, an article in the French daily conservative Le Figaro claimed a seminar held on university grounds in the Navarrese city of Pamplona during the summer of 1984 was essentially a political cover for Irish, Basque and Corsican subversive organisations. Similarly, in 1985, French newspapers reported that Sinn Féin had met with and agreed a pact with the far-left French revolutionary communists of Action Directe (Direct Action) in the Basque Country.24 In July 1986, Sinn Féin made its most public demonstration of solidarity with its Basque comrades to date when party members attempted to disrupt a state visit by Juan Carlos I to Ireland. Shortly prior to a wreath-laying service set to take place at the Irish Garden of Remembrance in Dublin, Sinn Féin members reportedly: “carried the national flag of Euskadi and placards in Basque, Irish and English, [and] approached the Garden of Remembrance […] 15 minutes before the Spanish king’s arrival”.25 Denied access by the Irish authorities, the Sinn Féin contingent waited until the royal party had left, before enter[ing] and la[ying] a wreath next to that laid by the Spanish king minutes earlier. Lucilita Bhreatnach [daughter of the late Deasún Breatnach], of the Sinn Féin Foreign Affairs Bureau in Dublin, laid the wreath, which bore a tribute to all who have fought and died in the freedom struggle of the Basque people of Euskadi, in opposition to the Spanish state’s occupation of Euskadi, and in solidarity with Basque

200  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) political prisoners […] On Monday, June 30th, Sinn Féin Councillor Christy Burke boycotted the official Dublin city reception for the king and queen in ‘solidarity with the Basque people’s struggle for self-determination’.26 Expressions of Sinn Féin-HB solidarity were exchanged later that year in person at the former’s Ard Fheis. By now a regular delegate at the annual republican gathering, Juan Okiñena was accompanied by Txillardegi, one of the ‘historic’ founders of Ekin and ETA, to the November 1986 event in Dublin. As observed by Cynthia L. Irvin in her comparative work on radical Basque nationalism and Irish republicanism, during his address to the republican delegates, Txillardegi indicated that Herri Batasuna had decided to adapt its policy of abstention to the Basque Parliament. HB would present a candidate for the position of Basque Lehendakari.27 Coincidentally, Txillardegi’s announcement happened to provide the curtain raiser to Sinn Féin’s own internal debate at the 1986 Ard Fheis on the very same issue of abstention. Unlike in the HB case, however, Sinn Féin’s 1986 policy shift would be bitterly contested, leading to the first split in the party in 16 years. Our Day Will Come …

As Sinn Féin made ground electorally throughout the early 1980s, voices within the republican movement began to question the party’s long-held policy of abstention from Dáil Éireann.28 Given that all previous attempts to form 32-county institutions (either through a critical mass of abstentionist seats or via the provincial/federal parliaments envisaged in Éire Nua) had failed, for many within the party there was now a clear logic to dropping, or at least modifying, the current stance.29 Whether the republican movement liked it or not, Dáil Éireann was an independent parliament of a sovereign republic. There was simply no comparison between the legitimacy of Dublin’s mandate and the UK’s seemingly precarious hold on the ‘occupied six counties’ of the North. The counterargument was that if Sinn Féin participated in the institutions of Éire/Ireland, the IRA’s sense of self-legitimacy, which emanated directly from the usurped Irish Republic of 1919, would be fundamentally undermined. Indeed, the ‘Provisionals’’ Green Book, a sort of shorthand guidebook for recruits, could not have made the historical connection between the first Dáil Éireann and the IRM more explicit: Commitment to the Republican Movement is the firm belief that its struggle both military and political is morally justified, that war is morally justified and that the Army is the direct representative of the 1918 Dáil Éireann Parliament, and that as such they are the legal and lawful government of the Irish Republic. [Note: Representatives of the First

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  201 Dáil were elected in December 1918, but Dáil Éireann and the Irish Republic only came into being in January 1919].30 At an IRA Army Convention held in September 1986, a three-quarter majority of attendees passed a motion in support of Sinn Féin taking up seats in Leinster House (where Dáil Éireann sits) should any of the party’s candidates be elected. Crucially, there was no rupture.31 It was now over to the party itself. Two months later, at the 1986 Ard Fheis, the Adams leadership proposed a motion to the exact same effect. Opposing the shift, Ruairí Ó Brádaigh warned his comrades that “once you go in there [Leinster House], you sign the roll of the House and accept the institutions of the state”.32 It was left to Martin McGuinness, the respected hard-line commander of the IRA in Derry to appeal for party unity and to allay the fears of a constitutional ‘slide’: They [the opponents to the motion] argue that some TDs entering Leinster House will make it impossible to conduct armed struggle against British rule in the 6 counties. They tell you that it is an inevitable certainty that the war against British rule will be run down. These suggestions deliberately infer that the present leadership of Sinn Féin and the leadership of the Irish Republican Army are intent on edging the republican movement on to a constitutional path. To bolster their arguments, they draw a comparison between a pre-1970s leadership of the republican movement which had surrendered before the war began, and the present leadership of this movement. Shame! Shame! Shame! […] Our position is clear, and it will never, never, never change. The war against British rule must continue until freedom is achieved […] If you allow yourself to be led out of this hall today, the only place you’re going—is home. You will be walking away from the struggle. Don’t go my friends. We will lead you to the republic.33 McGuinness’ words were ultimately ignored. A sizeable minority of Sinn Féin delegates, including Ó Brádaigh and Dáithí Ó Conaill, left to reconvene their own Ard Fheis at a hotel in west Dublin. Echoing the fallout from the infamous ‘walkout’ 16 years earlier, Ó Brádaigh became the first President of Republican Sinn Féin (RSF). Likewise, Thomas Maguire once again endorsed Ó Brádaigh in his new capacity to carry on the mandate of the de jure Irish Republic of 1919. Cumann na mBan and Na Fianna Éireann also sided with RSF. Despite the sense of history repeating itself, in the long run, RSF was unable to mount any serious challenge to ‘Provisional’ Irish republicanism.34 As the thorny issue of abstention threatened to pull Sinn Féin apart in the mid-1980s, unbeknownst to everybody in the republican movement bar a select handful of individuals, the IRA was simultaneously preparing for a massive escalation of its campaign. To this end, between June 1985 and September 1986, four huge shipments of arms and explosives, totalling

202  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) 150 tonnes and including surface-to-air missiles and Semtex, were covertly smuggled from Libya into Ireland. A critical fifth shipment, containing an additional 120 tonnes of military equipment, was intercepted by French authorities on board the Eksund in the Bay of Biscay on 30 October 1987. Although the capture of the Eksund meant that the IRA’s surprise ‘Tet Offensive’ could no longer go ahead as previously planned, the sheer size of the organisation’s hidden arsenal in Ireland ensured that the Long War with the British State could carry on almost ad infinitum.35 … Your Day Will Come

In the Basque context, tentative informal talks began in early 1987 between the ETA representative Domingo Iturbe (Txomin) and the Spanish Government in Algeria. While ETA was keen to discuss and advance its political programme (KAS Alternatiba) in Algeria, the Spanish representatives were only prepared to deal with more technical issues, such as prisoners. Nevertheless, for the first time since ETA’s founding, the Spanish Government was dealing directly with the paramilitary organisation.36 The Basque izquierda abertzale was also making progress on the electoral front. On 10 June 1987, José María “Txema” Montero, a lawyer from Bilbao, was elected to the European Parliament for Herri Batasuna. Montero received an impressive 360,952 votes across the Spanish State, including significant support in Catalonia. Inexplicably, however, within days of Montero’s electoral achievement, a bomb left by an ETA commando in the boot of a car in a Barcelona supermarket car park killed 21 people, incinerating many of the victims in a huge fireball. ETA’s ‘Hipercor’ terrorist attack provoked massive outrage across the political spectrum in Spain. It also drew condemnation from some quarters within the izquierda abertzale, including from the new European deputy, Montero.37 The cloud of ‘Hipercor’ and his party’s relationship with ETA hung over Montero’s presence in the European Parliament for quite some time. Weathering criticism from his peers, the HB representative regularly brought the case for Basque self-determination to the chamber floor. Given the close ties between his party and Sinn Féin, which held no seats in the European Parliament at the time, Montero also occasionally made the case for Irish selfdetermination. Indeed, Sinn Féin’s Alex Maskey jokingly referred to Montero as “our representative” in Europe.38 In November 1987, Montero attended his first Sinn Féin Ard Fheis, taking to the stage to “thunderous applause”. A report of the MEP’s speech in AP/RN once again reflected mutual BIA-IRM concerns regarding extradition: Like Irish republicans, the Basque freedom movement is now threatened with the wholesale extradition of political refugees, in their case from France to Euskadi. Montero’s final message brought delegates to

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  203 their feet as he told them: ‘Tiocfaidh ár lá, tiocfaidh bhur is, beirimíd bua! [Our day will come; your day will come. We will win!]’.39 Days later, an IRA bomb placed close to a war memorial cenotaph in Enniskillen in Northern Ireland killed 11 people. Akin to ETA’s attack in Barcelona, the Enniskillen atrocity resulted in widespread condemnation of the IRA throughout Ireland and Britain. Gerry Adams described the attack as a “terrible mistake”, which “[the IRA] must not repeat”. Ironically for the Irish republican movement, as a consequence of the Enniskillen bombing, an Extradition (Amendment) Act, aimed at terrorist offences, was voted through in Dáil Éireann.40 Rounding off 1987 on a similarly bleak note, a huge ETA car bomb killed 11 people, including five children, at a Guardia Civil barracks in Zaragoza on 11 December 1987. The Spanish Government’s immediate response was to call off the talks with ETA in Algeria. Moreover, one month later, the Pacto de Ajuria-Enea (Ajuria-Enea Pact) was signed in Vitoria-Gasteiz. This pact, agreed between all the major Basque political parties apart from HB, effectively drew a political (and arguably social) cordon sanitaire between those who renounced violence and strove for their objectives within the established political framework, and those who did not.41 Despite Montero’s promise at the 1987 Ard Fheis that “Our day will come; your day will come. We will win!”, neither the IRA nor ETA’s respective Long Wars of attrition looked set to break the will of the British or Spanish states any time soon. The End of History?

In March 1988, three unarmed IRA members, Seán Savage, Daniel McCann and Mairéad Farrell, were controversially killed by a unit of the British Special Air Service close to a service station in Gibraltar. Given the historical British-Spanish dispute over Gibraltar and the fact that Spanish police had tracked the IRA operatives en route to the British Overseas Territory, it was somewhat inevitable that a possible ETA link would be speculated upon in the media. Any credible suggestion of ETA involvement, however, was subsequently quashed by Spanish police sources.42 At the collective funeral of the ‘Gibraltar 3’, a UDA loyalist named Michael Stone launched a gun and grenade attack against the mourners. During the course of the assault, Stone killed three people and wounded many more. Three days later, two undercover British corporals, Derek Wood and David Howes, reversed erratically into the funeral cortège of one of Stone’s victims, Caoimhín Mac Brádaigh. A hostile crowd quickly surrounded the car, and in the ensuing chaos, one of the corporals produced a pistol. Both men were subsequently beaten, stripped of their clothes and executed on waste ground next to Casement Park in Belfast.43 The accumulating horror of the ‘Gibraltar 3’, ‘Milltown Cemetery Massacre’ and ‘Corporals Killings’ amounted to what, for many, were the most

204  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) gruesome days of the “Troubles”—a harrowing two-week nadir in what seemed like an intractable conflict.44 Despite this sense of hopelessness, however, away from media and public scrutiny, the first discussions of what would become known as the ‘Irish peace process’ were already taking place. Having established contact during the 1981 Hunger Strikes, Gerry Adams and Taoiseach Charles Haughey had opened up an indirect line of dialogue in 1986 via a Belfast-based Redemptorist priest named Alec Reid. Similarly, from 1988 to 1990, a number of secret backchannel communications took place between IRM figures and the SDLP, and between senior republicans and the British security services.45 In the Basque Country, a similar process began when the dialogue that had broken down between ETA and Spanish Government representatives in Algeria resumed again in late 1988. These discussions became official in January 1989, leading ETA to declare its first-ever (temporary) ceasefire. As talks continued, ETA extended the ceasefire in March for a further 90 days. Despite the encouraging signs, just one month later, in April 1989, the talks in Algeria collapsed once again. Seemingly ETA had demanded, unsuccessfully, that the Spanish Government modify a statement regarding the objective of the talks.46 When ETA’s ultimatum went unheeded, the organisation immediately resumed its campaign of violence, assassinating members of the security forces and even sending letter bombs to some of those involved in the talks process. The Spanish Government responded by successfully pressuring Algeria into ejecting ETA’s negotiators. The government also commenced a controversial policy of dispersing ETA prisoners throughout the Spanish State.47 Finally, on 20 November 1989, two masked gunmen with suspected links to GAL assassinated the HB Deputy for Biscay Josu Muguruza as he was eating dinner with party colleagues and journalists at a Madrid hotel. With HB having dropped its policy of abstention to the Spanish Parliament, Muguruza had been scheduled to attend the investiture of a new legislature the following day.48 Zooming out from the prevailing Irish and Basque case dynamics at the turn of the decade, seismic changes were occurring elsewhere in broader geopolitical terms. From the mid-1980s onwards, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR)’s reformist policies of perestroika (listen) and glasnost (openness) had gradually prised open opportunities for individual soviet republics to pursue their own interests. When the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic published a declaration asserting its sovereignty over USSR law in November 1988, a die was cast. Over the next few years, one by one, a slew of soviet republics behind the ‘Iron Curtain’ became liberal parliamentary democracies. Not only had the Cold War ended, but for some, so had history itself.49 For the main protagonists of this study, the fall of the socialist East presented two slightly different vistas. For the BIA and Basque nationalists more broadly, the sudden appearance of multiple independent republics across Eastern Europe (and subsequently in Yugoslavia) was a boon to democratic principles of self-determination and national sovereignty. Following in the slipstream, the

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  205 Basque Parliament approved a declaration on 15 February 1990 affirming a right to Basque self-determination.50 For Irish republicans, the same implications applied, but with an added question: would the end of the Cold War affect Britain’s strategic military interest in maintaining a presence in Ireland?51 By the late 1980s/early 1990s, a British military defeat and “withdrawal” from Northern Ireland along the lines of that which the IRM had envisaged in the early 1970s was extremely unlikely—a position seemingly accepted by senior figures within Sinn Féin and the IRA.52 Nonetheless, hopes for a political breakthrough in the conflict dynamic were kindled by the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Peter Brooke, in November 1989. Speaking candidly, Brooke stated that the IRA could not be defeated militarily. He also refused to rule out comprehensive talks with Sinn Féin in the absence of violence.53 While commentators differ on the motivation behind Brooke’s remarks, what is of relevance here is that his statement signalled the potential for a new negotiated settlement (inclusive of Sinn Féin and, by extension, its military wing in the shape of the IRA) to the conflict in Ireland. Looking on at recent developments in Ireland and elsewhere, radical Basque nationalists may have wondered if a new comprehensive political dispensation could also be achieved with Spain. Within days of Brooke’s remarks, PHEH published an article titled ‘El Espejo Irlandés’ (The Irish Mirror). Given the return to pre-eminence of the Irish Mirror in Basque/Spanish politics throughout the 1990s and the emerging post-Cold War context in which it was written, it is worth quoting liberally from the article: The latest political events in the United Kingdom are highly significant and deserve a serene and serious reflection from all areas of politics, both from the state and the Basque [Country]. Peter Brooke, [Secretary of State] for Northern Ireland, has just publicly acknowledged that ‘it is difficult to foresee a military defeat of the IRA’ and expressed his willingness to enter into negotiations with Sinn Féin, the political party officially assumed to be the political arm of the IRA. After these revealing declarations fell unexpectedly as a bombshell in Ulster, there have been statements from both contending sides that only corroborate the great teacher that is History [...] What is really important is that the negotiation leads to a lasting and mutually beneficial peace in Ulster and throughout the United Kingdom. With will and imagination everything will be done on the basis of truces, ceasefires and whatever is necessary to end the torrent of blood and suffering without winners or losers. Or rather, with only one winner, PEACE. This History presents strong analogies—with different nuances, of course—with respect to the Spanish State-Euskadi dispute [...] The spirit of reshaping is changing the globe, with Perestroika to the forefront. Willingly, inexorably, many walls will follow the one in Berlin. Humanity desires Peace, a basic condition to advance in the field of material and spiritual conquests. It is no coincidence that the path of negotiation is open in more and

206  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) more areas of conflict, Sahara-Morocco, Palestine-Israel, FMLNGovernment of El Salvador, FSLN-Contra, French State-Kanakos, English [British] Government-IRA.... The time has come to solve by the same means ‘the Basque question’, since the political and military defeat of those in Euskadi who defend the elemental and simple solution of a more just and rational legal-political framework is impossible.54 Speaking at the Sinn Féin Ard Fheis in February 1990 and a republican rally in Belfast a few months later, HB representatives Karmelo Landa and “Txema” Montero both tapped into the same analysis during their respective interventions: In a year that is witnessing struggles for self-determination and true democracy in Eastern Europe, we want to see liberty stretch to this part of Europe as well. We are together in this struggle for national liberation and socialism throughout Europe. Now everyone is a champion of self-determination with events unfolding in Eastern Europe, all wish to see people decide their own destiny, but not so in the Basque Country or in Ireland where two EC member states suppress the desire of our peoples to be free.55 Although the eventual triumph of the capitalist West in the Cold War undermined the socialist principles that permeated much of the IRM and BIA’s rhetoric, this was of secondary importance compared to the emerging ‘zeitgeist’ of national self-determination, as fuelled by the collapsing Soviet Union.56 Not only had history not ended, but, as quoted above in ‘El Espejo Irlandés’, the “great teacher that is History” was seemingly coming full circle again. Akin to the Irish Revolutionary Period seven decades earlier, the Irish Mirror was about to return as a major international reference point for radical Basque nationalists and, indeed, figure in the cockpit of Basque and Spanish politics more generally for most of the 1990s. Towards a Multistrand Nexus (Part II) From the early 1980s onwards, the constellation of sectors that orbited around ETA: KAS, HB, the youth movement Jarrai (Continue), and Gestoras pro Amnistía (Pro-Amnesty Advocates), tended to style themselves as forming part of a broader Movimiento de Liberación Nacional Vasco (MLNV, Basque National Liberation Movement).57 Operating largely outside the Basque political mainstream, the MLNV helped to partly insulate ETA—the MLNV’s vanguard—from mounting external criticism.58 Similarly, to borrow the Chinese revolutionary Mao Tse-tung’s famous “fish and water” analogy on guerrilla insurgents and the crucial support of the local population, the IRA also required a social movement undergirding

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  207 to survive as a relevant organisation. In fact, this was arguably even more pertinent to republicans given that blanket censorship of Sinn Féin in the Irish State completely starved the party of publicity until the 1990s.59 Outside of the party-political (Herri Batasuna-Sinn Féin) relationship, how did the broader social movement cosmologies of radical Basque nationalism and Irish republicanism begin to interlock across the 1980s? First, it is worth recalling that the Hunger Strikes of 1980 and 1981 sparked an increasingly sympathetic engagement in the Irish republican movement across radical Basque nationalist media coverage. This trajectory continued into the mid-1980s, with reporters from PHEH regularly filing articles on the Irish republican experience from the republican heartlands of Belfast, including a 60-page cuaderno (notebook) published in December 1986.60 Second, in the summer of 1987, a new initiative (described in the following extract from AP/RN) saw a large group of Basque activists arrive in Belfast to participate in an anniversary to mark the introduction of ‘Internment without Trial’: Although Sinn Féin has links with the Basque national liberation movement, in the form of the patriotic coalition, Herri Batasuna, represented now for a number of years at the Ard Fheis, this was the first year [1987] that a substantial Basque contingent took part in the annual international [anti-internment] commemoration. More than 50 people from Euskadi arrived in Belfast on Saturday to take part in Sunday’s parade in West Belfast in which they marched behind the green, white, and red flag of their country, the Ikurriña. The Falls Road echoed to the cries in Basque of support for their struggle and ours and the crowd applauded warmly. Most of the group were members of Herri Batasuna, which has the same political objectives as the Basque guerrilla army, ETA. The Basques were billeted locally, taken on a tour of points of political interest, met members of the United Campaign Against Plastic Bullets, besides attending and contributing to a number of very enjoyable social functions.61 (“Basques’ Solidarity Visit,” AP/RN, 13.08.1987) The following year, again in August, a similar Basque group returned. This time, their visit coincided with the first ever Féile an Phobail (Festival of the People): a week-long community celebration of west Belfast arts and culture with close associations to Sinn Féin. The 1988 Basque contingent, consisting of a “party of 17 Basque activists, members of the KAS coalition […] a broad front for Basque national liberation”, spent five days in total in Northern Ireland, during which time they met with housing activists, language activists and former H-Block prisoners.62 One of the Basque visitors to Belfast in 1988 was a young Herri Batasuna councillor named Pernando Barrena. Akin to Pat Rice in the IRM, Barrena may be considered as a key broker in BIA-IRM relations over recent decades.

208  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) Reflecting on his 1988 trip to Belfast almost 30 years later, Barrena recalled the “tough living conditions” he witnessed in the physically divided nationalist/ Catholic and loyalist/Protestant communities of the northern capital. What stayed with Barrena, however, above all, was a “feeling of a very close, shared political culture between republicans and people in the Basque abertzale left”.63 Like any other cultural community, this nascent “shared political culture” at the intersection of the BIA and IRM that Barrena speaks of would gradually begin to reproduce itself in various forms, ritually. An anonymous Irish republican contributor to this study made the reverse Basque-Irish trip to Barrena in 1988. “Astounded” and “overwhelmed” by the vibrancy of the youth and social movement culture he witnessed in the Basque Country, ‘A’ decided to stay. During the early-to-mid 1990s, ‘A’ liaised as a “sort of intermediary” with another Sinn Féin figure regarding the back and forth of delegations from Askapena (Liberty; an international outreach group of the BIA) to Ireland. These meetings, which usually brought together ex-prisoners and language activists, were always “specifically centred on Sinn Féin and Sinn Féin guidance”, with meetings and agendas typically “set out months in advance”.64 Building out from the central party-political relationship between Sinn Féin and Herri Batasuna, other BIA-IRM transitional links would gradually develop across mutually relevant strands (e.g., prisoners, language, women) in the early 1990s. For example, in February 1990, a motion was passed at the Sinn Féin Ard Fheis in support of Basque prisoners. Later that year, Brendan Hughes, a former Officer Commanding of the IRA’s ‘Belfast Brigade’ and prominent leader of the hunger strikers, embarked on a ten-day trip to the Basque Country in order to “gain experience of how broad front politics translate into everyday organisational reality, and of course to offer our experience to and solidarity with the Basque struggle”. Finally, in the 1990 winter edition of the Irish republican prisoner quarterly The Captive Voice/An Glór Gafa, a lengthy ‘Communiqué of the Collective of the Basque Political Prisoners’ was reproduced. In the view of the republican organ: The struggle of the Basque prisoners is familiar to us and, just as Thatcher failed, so too will Gonzales [sic] in his attempt to criminalise a risen people. The Irish and the Basques suffer together in the denial of sovereignty and the suppression of cultural identity.65 Another relationship strand that became more important was language. According to Bairbre de Brún, a then Sinn Féin activist in the international, cultural and women’s departments: [W]e were battling to get recognition of Irish as a minority language [in Northern Ireland] protected by the EU charter. So, that was an arena in which some of the other movements, in Wales and the Basque Country,

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  209 were quite strongly organised and dealt with minority languages in Europe […] The Basques, at that stage, in those years, had an MEP, and we didn’t. So, at that stage, it would have been they who were inviting me into the European Parliament as a way of meeting with other people.66 De Brún helped to launch a translation by Mitxel Sarasketa of Bobby Sands’ prison writings into Euskara during a ten-day tour of the Basque Country in October 1991.67 By 1991, the number of Basques attending the annual Belfast Féile an Phobail/Anti-Internment Rally double-header had swollen to 150, “made up of representatives from organisations in Euskadi, including cultural, political prisoners, youth and ecological groups”.68 That same year, Txalaparta, a publishing house associated with the izquierda abertzale, translated and published a Spanish version of Gerry Adams’ The Politics of Irish Freedom. Pernando Barrena, who was working in Txalaparta at the time, recalls the importance of Adams’ book in knitting together the hitherto disparate references, landmark figures and popular images of Irish republicanism in radical Basque nationalist circles: At the moment [2017], it’s easy to get any information in the world in two seconds; but at that time, the Irish reality—we’re talking about the early 90s—it was not so easy to know what was happening in a place 2000 kilometres from here. And you know, the references from here were so few: Ireland, the IRA, the Hunger Strike, the ‘Troubles’, Gerry Adams, what else? […] When we had the opportunity to publish Gerry Adams’ book, I remember that for a small publishing house, for us, it was important […] it was important to offer information about what was going on [in Ireland], because the feeling of sympathy was quite significant.69 1992 continued in a similar vein. In February, HB staged a protest outside the British Consulate in Bilbao after three Sinn Féin workers had been gunned down in their offices by a loyalist paramilitary group. Askapena extended its solidarity with the “relatives and friends of those killed” and encouraged Sinn Féin to continue in its “struggle for Irish freedom”. In March, the Basque women’s organisation Egizan (Do It) invited Aine Connolly of Sinn Féin’s International Department to speak in the Basque Country on International Women’s Day. As well as presenting Sinn Féin as the Irish political party with the “most progressive stance on the rights of women”, Connolly met with the families of ETA prisoners dispersed in jails across Spain. Later that month, the AP/RN editor and Sinn Féin FAB representative Mícheál Mac Donncha attended a prisoner-themed conference in Arantzazu, Gipuzkoa. Lastly of note, in June, Sinn Féin activists picketed the Spanish Embassy in Dublin in solidarity with Basque prisoners.70

210  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) Speaking to a large crowd in Belfast in August 1992, Herri Batasuna representative Karlos Rodríguez reflected on the increasingly close relations between the two movements over recent years: For many years, Ireland and the Basque Country have shown a real and sincere solidarity [from] one to each other. This solidarity between Irish and Basque people comes from the fact that our fights as nations towards freedom have many things in common. It is a natural feeling between two countries in struggle. During our stay in the north of Ireland, we the Basque people have been visiting many republican prisoners in British prisons. We have had the opportunity to learn more about the repression here, which is very similar to Spanish repression of our people. But above all we have learnt the real meaning of the word ‘strength’ and ‘morale’. With people like you, Ireland will soon be free.71 Unlike the routine visits of HB political representatives to the Ard Fheis, which usually took place in the leafy surroundings of Dublin city’s Mansion House, the transnational relations and contact points outlined in this section tended to occur across more loosely organised prisoner, language, international and women’s strands. Without underestimating the importance of the annual Ard Fheis for the overall maintenance of the nexus, the ritualised Basque pilgrimage to Belfast every August (from 1987 onwards) would appear to have opened up more conducive spaces for exchanges and transfers of ideas, ideologies, strategies and tactics between radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans, particularly at the grassroots level.72 This, in turn, engendered expressions of transnational solidarity and the manifestation of an emerging ‘shared political culture’ at the intersection of the two movements. An evident example of this ‘shared political culture’ was a mural painted by “members of the Basque delegation” and “Sliabh Dubh Sinn Féin cumann” (a local Sinn Féin branch) on Rossnareen Avenue, Belfast in August 1992. Consisting of a group of silhouetted figures standing in front of Irish and Basque flags, written on the mural in Gaeilge and Euskara was “Dhá Chine Aon Choimhlint” and “Bi Herri Borroka Bat” (Two Peoples, One Struggle); “Independence” was also written in English. Commenting on the BasqueIrish mural, a reporter for AP/RN surmised its rationale as straightforward: the Basque and Irish struggle is the same for both people. That this message is on a wall in West Belfast is testimony to the links of solidarity and respect that has built up over the years between the republican people in Ireland and the people of Euskadi.73 Similar Basque-Irish themed murals would follow in 1995 (see Figure 6.1) and 1997.74 Another indicator of the ‘shared political culture’ at the intersection of the BIA and IRM was how the language of each movement and struggle evolved and began to bleed into the other. For example, an Ertzaintza (Basque police

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  211 force) officer killed by ETA could be likened to the “equivalent of the RUC Special Branch” in republican discourse; the Spanish Constitution “rejected”, and the Spanish Transition “so-called”. On the other side of this transfer, the main Spanish parties (Partido Popular [PP, Popular Party] and PSOE) would eventually become “unionists” in radical Basque nationalist literature.75 There were also misunderstandings. For instance, radical Basque nationalists would occasionally refer to Northern Ireland as a nation and/or express the territory’s right to self-determination. Going in the opposite direction, a 1985 report in AP/RN that referred to the Basques as having “Home Rule” was subsequently corrected by a letter from HB to the republican periodical.76 The results of questionnaires issued to MLNV activists who spent time living in republican Belfast over recent decades reveal that a majority (from a controlled sample) became active stakeholders in the IRM’s struggle.77 From attending republican marches to becoming full Sinn Féin members, Basque activist participation in Irish republicanism served to underscore the universal scope of the BIA’s struggle and reinforce a sense of commitment and legitimacy.78 Finally, it is my contention that the ritualised ‘shared political culture’ at the intersection of both movements—primarily socialised in republican Belfast and developed across the mid-to-late 1980s and early 1990s—could be likened to a sort of transnational Anderson-esque ‘imagined community’. I shall return to this idea in the concluding chapter.79

Figure 6.1  ‘Two Nations, Same Struggle’. Kashmir Road, Clonard, Belfast. Photograph courtesy of Askapena Basque International Brigade, August 1995.

212  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) The Irish Mirror (Reprised) On 29 March 1992, in the French-Basque village of Bidart, French police arrested what amounted to ETA’s effective leadership in one fell swoop. Finding themselves surrounded at an isolated chalet, Francisco Múgica (Pakito), José Luis Álvarez (Txelis) and Joseba Arregi (Fitipaldi) offered no resistance. Coming only months before a planned escalation of attacks to coincide with the World Expo in Sevilla and the summer Olympics in Barcelona, ‘La Caída de Bidart’ (The Fall of Bidart) was a massive blow to ETA, for although the organisation managed to regroup under a new leadership cadre, the broad consensus among analysts is that this recovery was only ever partial.80 Shortly after ETA’s forced leadership change—although not necessarily related to it—the organisation’s strategic and tactical focus began to shift. A new tactic, ‘socialisation of the suffering’, saw ETA steadily increase its range of targets to include political opponents (usually PP and PSOE representatives), members of the judiciary, journalists, university professors and the local Basque police force. Dovetailing with the increase in targets, organised groups of radical nationalist youths began to engage in ‘Kale Borroka’ (Street Struggle) in urban centres. Acts of Kale Borroka typically involved destroying bank machines, erecting street barricades, setting rubbish bins alight, and attacking the offices of political opponents and institutional buildings (post offices, train stations, and so forth). Incidents of Kale Borroka would become an ever-present feature in Basque towns and cities throughout the 1990s.81 Meanwhile, in Northern Ireland, the private discussions that had given life to the nascent peace process in the late 1980s eventually began to emerge in the public realm. Most notably, private and public talks between Gerry Adams and SDLP leader John Hume led to an agreed draft document in August 1991. This Hume-Adams document was then modified by Irish Government officials and brought to the British as the basis for sustained intergovernmental dialogue.82 Whilst Dublin and London worked on a framework, talks between Hume and Adams continued, culminating in a joint statement in April 1993. The ‘Hume-Adams Statement’ of April 1993 (the first of five joint statements issued by the two men in as many years) argued that the Irish people “as a whole” had a right to self-determination.83 While the slowly moving political process offered a glimmer of hope for lasting peace, a sharp increase in inter-paramilitary tensions and sectarian violence throughout the early 1990s threatened to snuff it out all too easily. For instance, in October 1993, the IRA attempted to assassinate the leadership of the UDA as they supposedly met above a fish shop on the staunchly loyalist Shankill Road in Belfast. The bomb exploded prematurely, killing ten people (eight civilians, one UDA member, and one of the two IRA bombers). A week later, the Ulster Freedom Fighters—a cover name often used by the UDA—carried out a ‘revenge’ attack by gunning down eight people in a packed bar frequented by Catholics in Greysteel, Derry. Several other ‘tit

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  213 for tat’ attacks left an indelible mark on both communities throughout this period. As one former IRA militant Eamonn Collins puts it, Northern Ireland was, in many respects, “moving towards a Bosnia-type abyss”.84 On 15 December 1993, there was finally a breakthrough in the process. The Downing Street Declaration (DSD), signed by British Prime Minister John Major and Taoiseach Albert Reynolds, set out the two governments’ agreed parameters for a lasting peace accord in Ireland. In what was effectively an inter-governmental squeeze on the first three Hume-Adams statements, the DSD acknowledged an Irish right to self-determination whilst equally dictating the spirit in which Irish self-determination could be exercised: concurrently, North and South.85 Even allowing for the type of ambiguous language that would define the entire Irish peace process, by any objective metric the formula for Irish selfdetermination envisaged in the DSD fell short of orthodox Irish nationalist and republican demands for self-determination on a unitary basis. Indeed, the principle of consent (i.e., the consent of a majority in Northern Ireland to any future change in the territory’s constitutional status) that was at the heart of the DSD, effectively equated, in traditional republican parlance, to the maintenance of a ‘unionist veto’. In other words, a minority community with a ‘manufactured’ majority in six northern counties could continue to frustrate the will of a sizeable island-wide majority in favour of Irish unity.86 Despite these inescapable realities, Sinn Féin’s immediate reaction to the DSD was circumspect, with the party seeking clarifications on various aspects of the declaration from the British Government before approaching the IRA Army Council.87 The Downing Street Declaration brought significant international attention to the political question of Northern Ireland (as opposed to the security aspect) for the first time since the Anglo-Irish Agreement of 1985. Specifically in the Basque Country, its arguable granting of Irish self-determination introduced a new, potent element into the Basque national debate. In the days following the declaration, Lehendakari José Antonio Ardanza of the PNV stated that the accord had, as “its point of departure […] an acceptance of the right to [Irish] self-determination”. Herri Batasuna, in slightly more guarded language, noted that the declaration “shows a recognition of the political essence of the problem and, therefore, of the need for political solutions, and this is something that other governments should take note of”. While HB chose its words carefully in public (perhaps reflecting Sinn Féin’s analysis), according to Pernando Barrena and Karmelo Landa, there was an immediate recognition within the party that the DSD would have implications for HB’s political strategy. In Madrid, the Spanish Minister of the Interior, Antoni Asunción, promptly rejected the prospect of a similar declaration in the Spanish-Basque context, reportedly citing the different terrorist problems posed by the IRA and ETA and the unique solutions required in each instance. Likewise, Secretary

214  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) General of the newly merged Partido Socialista de Euskadi-Euskadiko Ezkerra (PSE-EE), Ramón Jáuregui, brushed off all comparisons between the two cases. Despite these confident dismissals, the DSD inevitably raised questions regarding Spain’s willingness to deal with the political aspects, and not just the security aspect (i.e., the problem of ETA’s violence), of the Basque ‘contention’. As one British journalist put it, the Downing Street Declaration had “shattered a widespread assumption that the Basque problem should be easier to solve than the Irish one and has created a delicate problem for the Madrid government”.88 For the Spanish Government, resolving “the Basque problem” meant only one thing: defeating ETA. As far as Madrid was concerned, any Basque political issue or contention had already been catered for in the Spanish Constitution. With the dust still settling on the DSD, Sinn Féin leader Gerry Adams landed in Bilbao for his first official public visit to the Basque Country on 9 May 1994. At the airport, Adams was met by traditional Basque dancers and presented with a makila—a Basque ceremonial staff reserved for figures of importance. Later, the Sinn Féin leader addressed a crowd in Bilbao on recent developments in the Irish peace process, before holding a press conference in Madrid and visiting Gernika. According to a piece published in AP/RN, throughout his whistle-stop tour: Adams repeatedly referred to the triumph of the African National Congress in South Africa and the swearing in of Nelson Mandela as the first democratically-elected president. He said that these events, almost unimaginable only a few short years ago, have fanned the hope that true and lasting peace will be reached in the near future in Ireland as well as in Euskadi.89 Within weeks of Adams’ visit, a sizeable 10,000-strong “Sinn Féin/Herri Batasuna rally of solidarity” took place in San Sebastián. Led by Karmelo Landa and Pat Rice, the crowd marched from the city centre to Anoeta Stadium, where tributes were reportedly paid to Basque and Irish prisoners.90 Following the British Government’s clarifications around aspects of the DSD, on 31 August 1994, the IRA sensationally announced a “complete cessation of military operations”, affirming its “belief that an opportunity to secure a just and lasting settlement has been created”. The statement continued in more cautious language: “We note that the Downing Street Declaration is not a solution, nor was it presented as such by its authors. A solution will only be found as a result of inclusive negotiations”.91 When news of the IRA ceasefire filtered through in the Basque Country, a second round of diverging analyses regarding the Irish case and peace process as suitable references for ETA, the Basque Country, and Spain ensued in the Spanish/Basque media among journalists, politicians and intellectuals alike.

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  215 Particularly noteworthy was a piece in the right-wing daily ABC that bluntly stated: “there exists no possible parallel between the IRA and the Basque mafia and murderous gang of ETA”.92 The Basque izquierda abertzale and Partido Nacionalista Vasco were not the only Basque entities with a significant interest in the development of the Irish peace process. A mere eight days after the IRA 1994 ceasefire, two members of the Basque peace movement Elkarri (Together) embarked on a fact-finding mission to Belfast to “discover the keys to the peace process”.93 Founded by a former Herri Batasuna councillor Jonan Fernández in December 1992, Elkarri’s stated raison d’être was based on “one central idea: the situation of conflict and violence affecting the Basque Country must find a solution through the means of multiparty and non-exclusionary dialogue”.94 Gorka Espiau, one of Elkarri’s leading figures, recalls how the movement attempted to occupy an “empty space, where most of Basque society was […] a majority against the use of violence, but also against the state’s approach”.95 Occupying this space would be difficult. On the one hand, Elkarri’s stance against ETA’s violence meant that relations with HB were frosty from the outset. On the other hand, owing to its founder’s political background and Elkarri’s advocation for a comprehensive political dispensation, Elkarri was accused by HB’s opponents of essentially driving a radical Basque nationalist agenda.96 An internal report of Elkarri’s September 1994 trip to Northern Ireland, which included interviews with Sinn Féin’s National Chairperson Tom Hartley and the SDLP’s Head of International Affairs Denis Haughey, surmised: The balance is really positive. Not only because the planned objectives have been met, but also because it has served to teach us many things and to analyse the role of Elkarri in the Basque conflict through the reference of an ongoing peace process. In addition, this social movement has left channels of communication open with all the agents with whom it has met. The peace process in Ireland will have much more influence in Euskadi than it is possible to imagine now. It is suggested, therefore, to the activists, to closely follow the development of the process. It is also recommended to avoid mimetic comparisons, without disregarding the lessons learned from that experience.97 One month after Elkarri’s visit to Northern Ireland, on 13 October 1994, the Combined Loyalist Military Command, an overarching body of loyalist paramilitary groups, issued a ceasefire in response to that of the IRA.98 For the first time in a generation, there was now the real prospect of a lasting peace accord in Northern Ireland. From the Basque Country, the BIA, PNV and groups such as Elkarri would, as the latter suggested, “closely follow its development”.

216  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) A Horizon of Hope

In October 1994, less than two months after the IRA had declared its historic ceasefire, a ‘Joint Declaration of the National Executives of Sinn Féin and Herri Batasuna’ was drafted off the back of “recent meetings between delegations of both political formations” in the republican social club of Felons in Belfast. Unlike the militant revolutionary rhetoric of the Provisional IRA-ETA declarations of the early 1970s, the 1994 ‘Herri Batasuna-Sinn Féin Declaration’, which, as far as I can tell, was never published, was grounded in the principle of self-determination, conflict resolution and dialogue. It stated: We welcome the recent meetings between the delegations of Sinn Féin and Herri Batasuna as an expression of the solidarity between the Basque and Irish peoples and the long tradition of political cooperation between the two formations. We reaffirm our work in the search for a just and lasting peace for the Basque and Irish peoples based on the recognition of democratic principles. Understanding clearly that the pillar of democracy is the recognition and exercise of the right to selfdetermination without any external impediment. We are encouraged by the development of conflict resolution at the international level based on negotiated agreements. Conflicts that previously seemed irresolvable have been resolved. It is evident that dialogue between all parties to a conflict is a key element in the development of any peace process. We fully support the development of the peace process in Ireland and all measures that make a positive contribution to its achievement. We express our desire that the conflict the Basque Country experiences with the Spanish State is overcome by means of dialogue.99 For the BIA in the Basque Country, “dialogue” with Spain was a distant prospect and the five KAS Alternatiba demands still no closer to being achieved. Reflecting this reality, ETA launched a new proposal in April 1995 called Alternativa Democrática (Democratic Alternative). Without negating its desire for an independent, socialist Basque Country, Alternativa Democrática proposed that ETA seek to negotiate the recognition of Euskal Herria, the right to Basque self-determination and the issue of Basque territorial unity with Spain. This “democratic process without limits” would allow Basque citizens to choose their own future from a number of different options.100 While this was the rhetoric of the BIA’s new strategic departure, as a 2001 quote from ETA’s Zutabe bears testimony to, Alternativa Democrática was fundamentally about securing a Downing Street-type declaration from the Spanish Government in respect to the Basque Country. What are our discussions? They could be based on the ‘Alternativa Democrática’ that ETA released in 1995, but concretely it is the following: a remodelling of the text known as the Downing Street Declaration, signed in December 1993. The remodelling is simple: In the

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  217 place of Ireland, we have put Euskal Herria and in the place of United Kingdom, Great Britain or British Government we have put Spain and France. That is all.101 By the summer of 1995, the inclusive all-party talks that the IRA’s ceasefire was supposed to herald had still not materialised. As documented by Ed Moloney, with Sinn Féin no closer to the negotiating table, there were considerable rumblings within the IRA Executive (from which the IRA’s Army Council was selected) and among local IRA brigades regarding the merits of the Adams-led strategy.102 In Ireland, Sinn Féin organised protests against the impasse. Additionally, in a letter sent to the party’s overseas network, Sinn Féin called upon support groups internationally to join with us in any way they can to publicly highlight the situation and to demand all-party talks now. We hope that you can assist us and please let us know details of any pickets, vigils or protests mounted.103 A copy of the above communication from Sinn Féin reached the Basque peace movement Elkarri on 10 August 1995. Whether directly related or not to the Sinn Féin letter, within two weeks Elkarri subsequently released details of an upcoming conference on the Irish peace process in Bilbao. A demonstration was also slated to take place in San Sebastián under the banner: ‘Irlandako Bake Prozesoaren alde. Diálogo sin exclusiones’ (In Support of the Irish Peace Process. Dialogue without Exclusions). Penned in for the first weekend of September 1995, for Elkarri, the dual events would have two interrelated objectives: These events are focused on solidarity with the peace process in Ireland, but at the same time have a direct impact on the Basque political situation and, fundamentally, on the hope for a solution through dialogue. Ireland is now, above all, a horizon of hope for the Basques. As such, this country is not oblivious to what happens in Ireland. In this sense, these calls are a direct appeal to all those people and sectors that see in the Irish peace process a reference of hope and a solution to the Basque conflict.104 Invitations to the Bilbao conference were sent to Sinn Féin, the SDLP, and all the major Basque and Navarrese parties. In response, Karlos Rodríguez confirmed that while HB would attend the conference, it would decline to participate in the planned march: “We are not going to march with people like [Juan María] Atutxa [Basque Minister of the Interior], who are directly responsible for repression and for collaborating with the gangs of the Guardia Civil”. Perhaps relatedly, Sinn Féin also gave notice of its absence. The official reason communicated to Elkarri was the republican party’s heavy workload on the anniversary of the IRA ceasefire.105

218  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) Given that the conference had probably come about on foot of Sinn Féin’s international letter of appeal, it is somewhat ironic that the only Irish participant to attend was the SDLP’s Denis Haughey. Haughey remembers how his trip to Bilbao and San Sebastián came about: [Elkarri] wanted [SDLP leader] John Hume to come over for the first anniversary of the ceasefire […] John was a wee bit apprehensive about Elkarri because some of his colleagues in the European Parliament, whom he had asked about Elkarri, said: ‘be wary of those guys, some of them are ex-ETA’. So, John asked me to go over in his place, convey his good wishes to them, and just to keep my eyes and ears open, and to determine what kind of people they were. Were they the kind of people we wanted to have a connection with? In the end, Haughey found “Elkarri to be entirely genuine, entirely decent”. He was also “stunned at the level of interest” in the Irish peace process, both in Bilbao and at the demonstration in San Sebastián the following day, where up to 3,000 people gathered.106 Coinciding with the first anniversary of the IRA ceasefire, the Elkarriorganised conference/demonstration triggered another slew of Basque-Irish comparative pieces and editorials in the Basque and Spanish press. While conference representatives from the PNV, HB and EA stressed the need for a Basque political initiative similar to that of the Downing Street Declaration,107 the majority of mainstream Spanish right-wing and left-wing dailies tended not to share in the same analysis or analogical implications as the Basque nationalists. Most criticisms of Irish-to-Basque case comparisons centred around three main points: First, in Northern Ireland, two mutually hostile communities existed within the same society; this was not the case in the Basque Country. Second, in the Basque Country and Navarre, there existed functioning autonomous institutions; this was not the case in Northern Ireland. And third, the Irish conflict, as an “intergrupal” (inter-group) and interstate conflict, was qualitatively different from the “intragrupal” (intra-group) Basque case, which was largely situated in one historic sovereign entity: Spain. Finally, within the framework of this critical analysis, the right of the Irish and Basque people to self-determination—the crunch issue that Basque nationalists sought to focus on—tended to be either sidestepped or entirely ignored.108 A fortnight after the Elkarri conference/demonstration, Herri Batasuna reportedly “occupied” the British Consulate offices in Bilbao “in solidarity with the peace process in Northern Ireland”. Simultaneously, a petition signed by HB elected representatives calling on the British Government to unblock the multiparty talks was handed in to the British Embassy in Madrid.109 Ekarri’s prediction that “the peace process in Ireland will have much more influence in the Basque Country than it is possible to imagine now” was beginning to ring true, with the Irish Mirror a not-insignificant element in

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  219 the Basque (and to some extent, Spanish) national debate. Akin to any real mirror, it also tended to be viewed from whatever angle reflected best on the observer. At Different Stages

In the run up to the March 1996 Spanish General Election, Herri Batasuna released a video containing images of ETA militants presenting their Alternativa Democrática proposal. When public TV companies refused to screen the campaign video, a political and legal storm ensued. Jon Idigoras, a leading HB figure and parliamentarian for Biscay, was arrested by Spanish police in relation to the controversial video.110 Following Idigoras’ arrest, a Basque solidarity protest was arranged outside the Spanish Embassy in Dublin. Gerry Adams also stated: In my long association with Herri Batasuna I have known them to be committed and courageous in the search for peace. The arrest of their leader Jon Idigoras at this sensitive time will do nothing to advance peace. Sinn Féin calls on the Spanish government to release him immediately.111 The March election saw neither PSOE nor PP gain an overall majority in Madrid. As the PSOE’s Felipe Gonzáles and the PP’s José María Aznar sought to secure enough votes for their prospective investitures as Spanish President, HB’s Karlos Rodríguez addressed the Sinn Féin Ard Fheis, informing the republican delegates that the eventual makeup of the next Spanish Government mattered little either way: “Repression is likely to continue as before because the main elements of the state—the military, judiciary, police, and so on— will remain after the government is formed”.112 In the end, Aznar managed to gain a slim majority in parliament, doing so through the support of Christian-Democratic/Conservative forces in Catalonia, the Canary Islands, and most notably, the Basque PNV. Notwithstanding Rodríguez’s seeming indifference to the identity of the next Spanish President, Aznar in power was bad news for the izquierda abertzale. The previous year, ETA had attempted to assassinate the then-opposition leader, with only extensive armour on the car that he was travelling in saving Aznar’s life.113 Once in power, Aznar appointed his party compatriot, the Basque-born Jaime Mayor Oreja as Spanish Minister of the Interior. Throughout his stint in office in Madrid and a subsequent unsuccessful attempt at becoming Basque Lehendakari (in 2001), Mayor Oreja would evolve into somewhat of a bête noire figure, not only for ETA, but for Basque nationalism in general.114 Meanwhile, with Idigoras having been arrested, HB’s Karmelo Landa and Joseba Álvarez (the latter being the son of Txillardegi) travelled to Dublin in September 1996 in an attempt to raise awareness of the legal threat that

220  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) hung over HB’s entire ‘Mesa Nacional’ (National Executive) following the ETA video controversy. In addition to holding meetings with their comrades in Sinn Féin, the two men reportedly met representatives from Fianna Fáil, Fine Gael and the Irish Green Party. A proposed meeting with officials from the Irish Department of Foreign Affairs was “cancelled at the last minute”, provoking a minor furore.115 Herri Batasuna’s fears were realised when, throughout the spring of 1997, various members of the party’s ‘Mesa Nacional’ were arrested on charges of collaborating with ETA, leading to a trial in October. Twenty-three members of HB’s National Executive were subsequently found guilty and sentenced to seven years in prison.116 Bisecting the arrests and convictions of HB’s National Executive, on 10 July 1997, a young PP councillor named Miguel Ángel Blanco from the Biscayan town of Ermua was kidnapped by ETA. When the militants demanded that the Spanish Government relocate all of ETA’s prisoners to the Basque Country within 48 hours, and the ultimatum went unheeded, Blanco was unceremoniously shot in the back of the head. He died the following day (13 July). A huge public backlash against ETA ensued, with massive rallies held in towns and cities across the Basque Country and wider Spain. HB offices were also attacked. The mass outpouring of repulsion, rage, and solidarity (with ETA’s victims) that followed Blanco’s death would become known as the ‘Spirit of Ermua’. For her role in the kidnapping and killing of the PP councillor, Eli Gallastegi’s grand-daughter Irantzu Gallastegi (Amaia) was convicted and given a lengthy sentence.117 Despite the severe backlash against ETA, the organisation’s response was to double down in its convictions. Five more politicians, José Luis Caso, José Ignacio Iruretagoyena, Alberto Jiménez-Becerill and Manuel Zamarreño (all from the PP) and Tomás Caballero of the Unión de Pueblo Navarro (UPN), were killed within a year of Blanco’s death.118 ETA, it would seem, was prepared to go for broke in forcing a change in the conflict dynamic. 1996 and 1997 would prove to be equally as challenging for the IRM as for its Basque comrades. With inclusive all-party talks remaining as elusive as ever, on 9 February 1996, the IRA gave notice of the suspension of its ceasefire. Hours later, a massive bomb exploded on London’s South Quay (close to Canary Wharf), resulting in the deaths of two workers and millions of pounds worth of damage in the heart of London’s financial district.119 Analysis of the effectiveness of the London ‘Docklands bombing’ may be cut both ways. On one hand, within weeks, all-party talks to be chaired by US Senator George Mitchell were finally penned in for the summer. On the other hand, prior to participating in the proposed talks, all interested political parties would have to sign up to the ‘Mitchell Principles’—a pact which pledged those involved “to democratic and exclusively peaceful means of resolving political issues”; “to the total disarmament of all paramilitary organisations”, and “to agree to abide by the terms of any agreement reached in all-party negotiations”. Sinn Féin had reached a fork in the road. In May, the party signalled its intention to abide by the principles.120

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  221 The problem for Sinn Féin was that some of its most senior figures, including Adams, McGuinness and another leading party member, Pat Doherty, were allegedly dual members of the party and the IRA’s Army Council. Acceptance of the Mitchell Principles could therefore see the three men technically expelled from the IRA. Furthermore, as detailed by Moloney, not everybody in the IRA was convinced of the merits of Adams’ strategy. The IRA Army Council and Executive eventually agreed to call an IRA General Army Convention, during which Adams et al. were apparently given permission to sign up to the Mitchell Principles without risking expulsion. Although Sinn Féin had successfully navigated their way around the Mitchell Principles issue, in the fallout from the convention, a number of senior IRA figures left the organisation, ultimately leading to the founding of the ‘Real IRA’.121 By the spring of 1998, a second IRA ceasefire was in place, and under Tony Blair’s new Labour Party British Government, all-party talks, including Sinn Féin, were entering a crucial stage. Would there be an agreed outcome? And if so, what would it look like? After years of stop-start discussions and negotiations, the Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement was signed on 10 April 1998. Effectively an international treaty between the UK and Ireland, the GFA rested on three broad strands: a ‘power-sharing’ assembly; North-South bodies; and a British-Irish intergovernmental forum. Regarding the most important of these, strand one, a new Northern Ireland Assembly would be established and underpinned by a proportional cross-community executive consisting of elected representatives who would self-designate as either ‘Nationalist’ or ‘Unionist’. In the same spirit, a joint office of First Minister and Deputy First Minister would be filled by a representative from each side of the political divide. Policing and justice would also be reformed. Significantly for Irish republicans and Ulster loyalists, all paramilitary prisoners were to be released within two years. Concerning the national question, the final parameters of the agreement differed little in substance from the Downing Street Declaration. While the principle of Irish self-determination was upheld, a majority in Northern Ireland still had to accede to any proposed change to the territory’s status. Thus, as long as unionists and loyalists remained a majority in the six counties, Northern Ireland’s position within the UK was safe. For its part, the Irish Government proposed to make amendments to Articles 2 and 3 of the Irish Constitution, which claimed sovereignty over the entire island of Ireland. In republicans’ and nationalists’ favour, the GFA effectively replaced the Government of Ireland Act of 1920, which gave Westminster ultimate sovereignty over Northern Ireland’s affairs and its constitutional future. Under the terms of the GFA, “if, in the future, the people of the island of Ireland exercise their right of self-determination […] to bring about a united Ireland”, there was now a “binding obligation” on any future UK Government (and Irish Government for that matter) “to give effect to that wish”.122 For some analysts, the signing of the accord represented a political and military defeat for Irish republicanism; others saw it (and still see it) as finally resolving pan-nationalist Irish grievances around the historical denial of Irish

222  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) self-determination and the unilateral partitioning of the island by the British Government in 1920. On such divergent interpretations and analyses was the peace process built.123 Pending the outcome of concurrent referenda to be held on 22 May 1998, North and South, an accord had finally been reached that would put an end to three decades of the “Troubles”—a highly divisive and bitter conflict that had resulted in the loss of some 3,635 lives, about half of whom were taken by the ‘Provisional’ IRA.124 How and why did the IRA’s Long War against the British State in Northern Ireland come to an end? Although this question falls outside the scope of the study, it is worth briefly referring to some of the broad lines of thinking in this regard. As I have just referenced, some have pointed to the effective political and/ or military defeat of the republican movement.125 Even after 25 years, gauging a political defeat of the IRM seems premature, as this will ultimately depend on whether a united Ireland emerges from the architecture of the GFA. Military defeat is easier to measure. For the IRM, there is no escaping the reality that the IRA’s armed campaign was, ultimately, unable to force a British “withdrawal”. Nor was the organisation able to sustain enough pressure on the British political class that it would accede to most republican demands. In the years leading up to the agreement, an increase in loyalist paramilitary attacks against republican figures and the wider nationalist community had put the IRA on the back foot. Likewise, infiltration of agents at senior levels of the IRA had become a debilitating issue for the organisation, with as many as half of its planned operations thwarted by British security intelligence. As Frampton surmises, between loyalist paramilitaries and the British security forces, the IRA was effectively “contained”.126 And although the British State was similarly unable to defeat the IRA, in reality, it did not have to. The IRA needed to ‘win’; the British State, by contrast, just needed to ‘draw’ in order to maintain something approaching the status quo.127 This analysis feeds into a second school of thought: that the prospect of long-term ‘stalemate’ and a favourable international context (post-Cold War; US involvement in the peace process) encouraged the republican movement to “cash in [its] chips” at the right moment at the negotiating table.128 In other words, cognizant that political violence would not lead to a united Ireland, the IRM maximised its muscle and achieved sufficient gains during the multiparty talks to be able to transition the movement and thenceforth pursue its goals by purely political means “in a new phase of our struggle”. The alternative option, voiced by a leading republican interviewed for this study, was to return to war for “another 25 years”. As referenced in Chapter 1, this ‘thenceforth’ view is what undergirds the republican movement’s analysis of the peace process.129 Rather than the product of a conscious strategic shift in republican thinking, some analysts, most notably Ed Moloney in A Secret History of the IRA, have highlighted the role of Gerry Adams and his ‘kitchen cabinet’

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  223 in skilfully steering (and, at times, manipulating) political and military majorities of the republican movement into acquiescing to a largely inevitable outcome, even if this meant accepting what had previously been considered completely unpalatable.130 Regardless of the individual merits of these broad analyses, one indisputable factor in the IRM’s acceptance of the new dispensation was the movement’s subtle redefining of the concept of Irish self-determination and a revision of the traditional demands of what a British “withdrawal” would entail.131 Perhaps the most difficult aspect of the GFA for republican leaders to square with their grassroots was the return of a northern parliament, even in its new power-sharing configuration. Had the Provisional IRA not been instrumental in “smashing Stormont” in the first place? Mindful of this sensitive issue, as soon as the NIA was up and running, Sinn Féin explicitly stated that it saw both the assembly and executive as “transitional” apparatus.132 For some within the republican movement, however, this qualification was missing the point. After so much struggle and sacrifice, Sinn Féin ministers would still end up administering British rule in the ‘occupied six counties’. Disillusioned with the party, some departed to form various ‘dissident’ (or ‘dissenting’) republican organisations. Republican Sinn Féin, which split from the party in 1986, also rejected the Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement. In general, for this cohort of disaffected republicans, the GFA meant only one thing: “Got Fuck All”.133 As in other European countries, when news of the GFA broke internationally, plenty of goodwill was expressed across the political spectrum in Spain. Spokespeople for the two main Spanish parties, however, were quick to pour cold water on any suggestion of a parallel process occurring with respect to the Basque Country. For instance, Minister for Finance Rodrigo Rato (PP) remarked: I believe that the circumstances are clearly different, because it is one thing for us to rejoice, as Europeans, that a political agreement can be reached in Northern Ireland, and it is another thing for us not to be aware that the problems arising from ETA’s violence are not based on political problems [...] self-government and capacity for expression of the Basque Country is far superior to any that has existed in Northern Ireland. Similarly, the PSOE’s Josep Borrell responded to the signing of the accord by affirming his belief that the situation in Ireland is not comparable to that of the Basque Country […] [Northern Ireland is] a radically different reality, of a community confronted by religious reasons, which has no role in the Spanish case.134 Unsurprisingly, the Basque izquierda abertzale took a different view. From a prison in France, 16 ETA prisoners published a statement titled ‘Nos ilusiona lo de irlanda’ (We are excited about Ireland). As well as expressing

224  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) admiration for the Irish peace process, the signatories to the manifesto called for an accord between Basque nationalist forces and a greater role for prisoners in future debates.135 Likewise, reflecting on the Irish peace process and its main lesson for the Basque Country, ETA, as an organisation, concluded: Over and above similarities and differences, from ETA’s point of view, the Irish process is seen with total respect and full solidarity towards Irish republicans. And, of course, with the will to learn from it. For ETA, the most important lesson is that a global solution to a conflict has been chosen. That the resolution has an answer and a solution to all aspects of the conflict. That is, that a pseudo-solution to a conflict does not sow the bad seed of a new conflict for tomorrow or the day after, that the new generations have no need to fight again with weapons in hand in favour of the resolution of the same conflict. This is the commitment of Euskadi Ta Askatasuna, its will and its commitment, always and at all times.136 A week after the signing of the GFA, Pernando Barrena and another senior HB figure Esther Aguirre attended the Sinn Féin Ard Fheis in Dublin (18–19 April 1998). If ETA’s statement had indicated, in the organisation’s view, the requirement of “global solution” that would remove the “need” for armed struggle in the Basque Country, Aguirre’s speech to the republican delegates signalled her belief that both Spain and France were unable and/or unwilling to accede to such a dispensation: Basque people have watched with great interest the [peace process] talks of the last months. In the Basque Country we are not at the same stage. Both governments (Spain and France) see it as a time for repression and deny the political nature of the armed conflict.137 Regardless of one’s analysis of the GFA or how one judges the merits of Aguirre’s thesis on how and why the Basque izquierda abertzale was “not at the same stage” as its republican comrades, there can be little debate that her comparison regarding the respective advances of each movement towards its ultimate goal was essentially true. The Basque Mirror In August 1995, AP/RN contributor and playwright Brian Campbell wrote an article titled ‘Learning from the Basque Struggle’ for the republican organ. Breaking with the usual republican coverage of the izquierda abertzale’s juridical and political ‘oppression’, Campbell documented the conversations that he had recently conducted with several activists in San Sebastián and Vitoria-Gasteiz at the offices of Askapena and Alfabetatze eta Euskalduntze Koordinakundea (Coordinator of Basque Language and Literacy). According

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  225 to Campbell, there was far more for the Irish republican movement to learn from the “Basque struggle”: A characteristic of the Basque struggle has always been that it ranges across all aspects of political and cultural life. Organisations of women, youth, environmentalists, organisations to promote Euskera, the Basque language, to build links with foreign struggles, to campaign on behalf of political prisoners, to combat drug abuse, to organise festivals, all exist independently. Some are members of KAS, a coordinating forum which includes ETA and Herri Batasuna. But it is the large number of organisations which touch every area of life and essentially their independence, that makes for a political culture bursting with energy […] In the modern world the political party is only one element in a political project that touches every area of life. In the Basque Country, Herri Batasuna has a definite role but not an all-encompassing one. By having a freedom movement made up of many diverse elements, the desire to see everyone having their part to play in the struggle can be fulfilled.138 As referenced earlier, over previous decades, the twin engines of the izquierda abertzale (ETA, HB) had managed to gradually build up a sympathetic, multi-sectoral support base in the form of the self-described MLNV. Conversely, although the Irish republican movement (essentially just Sinn Féin and the IRA since 1986) had an identifiable political culture with its own parades, symbols, rituals, and so on, it had never managed to penetrate different layers and sectors of Irish society in the same way. Pat Rice recalls Sinn Féin looking to the izquierda abertzale in the 1980s with a view to building up a similar “umbrella movement” to their Basque counterparts, but to no avail.139 It would be in the realm of youth activism that Sinn Féin would, in the words of Campbell, “learn from the Basque Struggle”. Two months after Campbell’s piece in AP/RN, in October 1995, Barry McElduff, a Sinn Féin representative from Tyrone, organised a youth initiative known as Glór na nOg (Voice of the Youth) in the small northern town of Carrickmore. A follow-up debate was held in Belfast. During these gatherings, a number of republican activists voiced specific youth concerns around education, homelessness, unemployment and drug abuse.140 Among this group was a young republican from Dublin named Eoin Ó Broin. According to Ó Broin, it quickly became apparent that “the party was quite open to some sort of youth-led initiative”, and so, Ó Broin and others decided to “set up a youth-led youth wing” of Sinn Féin. Eager to avoid aping the likes of Young Fine Gael or Young Fianna Fáil, the young republicans looked abroad to see “where else can we learn from that might provide us [with] thoughts, ideas and experiences”.141 In the spring of 1996, Ó Broin unexpectedly received a phone call from a youth activist in the international relations of the BIA. On the other end of the line was Josetxo Otegi. Jarrai, the youth sector of the movement, was in

226  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) the final stages of organising a Gazte Topagunea (Youth Encounter).142 In the words of Ó Broin: He [Otegi] said they’d like to establish a relationship […] it came out of nowhere, it was completely coincidental, but it was, at the same time … we were doing all this stuff ourselves [organising a youth movement], and we said ‘great’.143 A notice published on 28 March 1996 in AP/RN carried information on the upcoming event as well as a direct phone number to Jarrai’s office: “Jarrai has extended an open invitation to young Irish republicans. Bring your tent”.144 Notwithstanding Ó Broin’s enthusiasm, Otegi’s short notice and a lack of money meant that no Sinn Féin youth representative was able to attend, or at least not in an official capacity. Instead, a young “American guy” who was travelling through Europe and who had become friendly with Ó Broin in Belfast offered to go and report back on his experience.145 The “American guy” was Andrew Terranova. On his return from the Basque Country, Terranova’s experiences of the Gazte Topagunea were published in AP/RN. Although the American had “attended the festival in a personal capacity”, he was, nonetheless, “welcomed with open arms by the Basque people ‘whose profound sense of solidarity and respect for the Irish struggle was truly incredible’”. Terranova described the three-day event as a “truly amazing feat … attended by some 15,000 Basque youth from all over the country […] a political Woodstock”. Concluding the report, Terranova opined: Jarrai has had enormous success in organising these Gazte Topagunea[k]. They bring such an enormous number of young people together that it ultimately proves to be a very effective way of drawing more and more youth into playing a very active role in their movement. Because of the recent developments here in Ireland with the formation of Glór na nOg, there seems to be a lot which can be learned from the Basque example.146 By the end of May 1996, Glór na nOg branches had been established in Belfast, Dublin, Tyrone and Derry. Although “affiliated with Sinn Féin”, its membership comprised of “people within and outside of the party”. Glór na nOg’s existence, however, would be short-lived. Without a clear idea of “what it was trying to do, how it should do it, and where it was going”, by the end of 1996, Glór na nOg had “ceased to function”. In early 1997, the remnants of the youth group came together to discuss what to do next. According to the group’s own account: A Basque youth organisation called Jarrai had come to our attention and we felt that it may be appropriate for us to make contact with them to see if there was anything to be learned from them. In March 97 a

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  227 delegate was sent to Euskal Herria for 3 weeks to learn as much as possible about their youth movement.147 This delegate was Eoin Ó Broin. Arturo Villanueva, a youth activist in the international relations of the BIA at the time, remembers receiving a phone call from Ó Broin: [Ó Broin] wanted to contact us because some guy [Terranova] from Chicago or Boston […] but who had Irish roots, had come to the Basque Country [the previous year]. He was amazed with what he saw.148 Following in Terranova’s footsteps, in March 1997, Ó Broin arrived in the Basque Country to witness the radical youth movement encounter for himself. He was, in his own words, “blown away”.149 The Dubliner subsequently catalogued his experiences of a Mendi Martxa (Mountain March), the controversial death of the ETA member Josu Zabala, and radical Basque youth movement culture more generally in a series of articles that appeared in AP/RN: For three days we were completely independent, from the police, from the government, and from a culture of consumption and apathy which across Europe is working to pacify more and more young people. The Mendi Martxa was more than just an event, it was an investment in the future, the future of both the left-nationalist and Basque society as a whole.150 Coinciding with Ó Broin’s Basque foray, AP/RN published what I understand to be the first-ever overview of Basque-Irish historical connections in an Irish republican publication. The piece, attributed to two members of an ‘Eire/Euskal Herria Solidarity Group’, “explained the connection” between the Irish Easter Rising (which took place on Easter Monday, 1916, but is officially celebrated annually on Easter Sunday with a military parade) and the Basque Aberri Eguna (celebrated annually on Easter Sunday) in the following way: Co-incidence? Not at all. The relationship between Ireland and Euskal Herria (Basque Country) goes a long way back in time, involving more than those few visitors that we exchange every year in summertime. While Irish people commemorated the Easter Rising last Sunday, 3,000,000 Basques were celebrating their National Day. At the beginning of this century, the Basque nationalists chose Easter Sunday as a day of national pride, inspired by the events of the 1916 Rising. One of the men behind the commemoration was Eli Gallastegi, Gudari who, through the magazine Jagi-Jagi, based in the Basque Country, expressed ideas of national freedom for the Basques and other nations. Impressed by the Irish struggle and in order to break the commercial embargo imposed by the British upon Ireland after the Treaty, Gudari

228  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) established a company which maintained business between Dublin and Bilbao. Thanks to him by the ’30s it was possible to taste Guinness in the Basque Country. The liaison with Gudari continued when he and his young family had to look for refuge in this country during the Spanish Civil War after the dramatic events which took place in the Basque Country. He raised his family in the Meath Gaeltacht [Irishspeaking area] and nowadays even those who did not settle still keep a close relationship with Ireland. Gudari’s son, Iker, was in Dublin just before Christmas as part of a group of Basque POWs’ relatives seeking support from the Irish people. His daughter, Gudari’s grand-daughter, is serving time in a Spanish prison for the same reasons that put her grandfather in jail several times during his lifetime of struggle: the right of the Basque Country to decide freely their own future.151 Linking the Aberri Eguna with the Easter Rising, coupled with references to three generations of Basque-Irish connections via the Gallastegis, naturally added historical depth to the developing ‘shared political culture’ at the intersection of both movements. In reality, however, the Easter Rising-Aberri Eguna thesis is a lot more tenuous. As briefly noted in Chapter 3, the first Aberri Eguna was, in fact, inaugurated in 1932 to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of Sabino Arana’s nationalist epiphany. Moreover, as de la Granja and Casquete document, Easter Sunday was chosen to mark the annual celebration as it explicitly underlined the PNV’s confessional postulates (in contrast to the secularism of the Second Spanish Republic) whilst symbolising the ‘resurrection’ of the Basque Country as akin to that of Jesus Christ.152 José María Lorenzo Espinosa, the historian and one-time member of HB’s ‘Mesa Nacional’, had, in 1992, made similar connections between Aberri Eguna and the Easter Rising in Gudari: Una pasión utíl (Gudari [in reference to Eli Gallastegi]: A useful passion). More broadly, Lorenzo Espinosa’s text sought to reintroduce and rehabilitate the largely forgotten and, for some, tarnished image of Gudari (for having not fought in the Spanish Civil War) within the Basque nationalist community.153 Lastly of note in relation to the Aberri Eguna-Easter Rising piece, the granddaughter of Gudari (and Iker’s daughter) referred to as “serving time in a Spanish prison for the same reasons that put her grandfather in jail” was Usune Gallastegi. She had been detained in 1994 for collaborating with ETA’s Biscayan commando.154 As we have seen, her cousin Irantzu would later be incarcerated for her role in the killing of Miguel Ángel Blanco and other crimes. Following Ó Broin’s trip to the Basque Country in the spring of 1997 and a flood of Basque-related pieces in AP/RN, including the Aberri EgunaEaster Rising article, a strategy document combining aspects gleaned from the now-defunct Glór na nOg initiative and new ideas picked up by the Dubliner from Jarrai was proposed to Belfast Sinn Féin. The proposal envisaged the northern city becoming a testing ground for the construction of a new republican youth movement. When Belfast Sinn Féin agreed to the proposition, Sinn Féin Youth (SFY) formally came into existence in August 1997,

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  229 with three representatives from Jarrai attending the organisation’s founding in Belfast.155 While the formation of Sinn Féin Youth was, fundamentally, an internal republican initiative, it is clear that Jarrai heavily informed SFY’s approach— a rare example of a BIA-to-IRM transfer. One of the chief criticisms of Glór na nOg had been that “it was focused primarily on discussion, [gaining] a reputation for being too elitist and at times too academic in approach”. In this respect, Ó Broin’s trip to the Basque Country in March 1997 opened up a new vista for young republicans as to how a youth movement could be organised and run.156 Ó Broin remarked in AP/RN: [A]lthough earlier youth initiatives such as Glór na nOg have failed, we have learned from those mistakes, and are building that understanding into our work. Our focus will be on generating as much street activity as possible, whether in the form of protests, militant actions, stickers or posters. Bringing young people onto the street and using politics to reclaim those streets for ourselves will be our primary aim.157 As one former republican activist put it: “Ó Broin went there [the Basque Country], came back, and implemented what he saw”.158 In the spring of 1998, exactly one year after Ó Broin’s first Basque foray, 17 Sinn Féin Youth activists returned “to learn some new ideas from Jarrai”, including the organisation of national events. A “core group” was also tasked with “learning the internal mechanics of Jarrai from local and provincial to national level”.159 Just as the SFY activists were high up the Basque mountains, news of the Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement began to filter through. Arturo Villanueva, one of the key brokers in the development of BIA-IRM youth relations, recalls: “At that very moment, we were holding an international assembly.… I am very happy to have witnessed it”.160 Conclusion From 1983 until 1998, Herri Batasuna and Sinn Féin cultivated and continually strengthened their transnational relationship. Alongside this politicalparty nexus, mutual areas of interest, such as prisoner advocacy, language rights and youth issues, steadily drew specific sectorial components of both political cultures (or party figures associated with these sectors) into more regular contact outside the annual forum of the Sinn Féin Ard Fheis. From 1987, diffuse groups of political representatives and grassroots activists from radical Basque nationalist sectors such as HB, KAS and Jarrai (and in the 1990s, Askapena) began to attend the Belfast Anti-Internment Rally and Féile an Phobail in Belfast every August (annual encounters at youth level occurred from 1997 onwards). Apart from the social element of these trips, visiting Basque activists and others who later took up more extended residence in the city, usually participated in republican rallies, commemorations

230  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) and political workshops, visited republican prisoners, or were taken to see local community initiatives in areas such as language and housing. The simultaneous intensification and diversification of BIA-IRM contacts and relations throughout this period, or what I have referred to as a multistrand nexus, may be understood, in the first instance, as generally premised on the sharing of information, knowledge and experience towards specific movement learning needs and objectives across various relationship strands (e.g., party-political, prisoner advocacy, language, youth). These needs, writ large, were provoked by an impulse to break the political isolation experienced by both movements following the Anglo-Irish Agreement of 1985 and the Ajuria-Enea Pact of 1988.161 In summary, faced with increasing political, juridical and security threats, the BIA and IRM simultaneously sought to learn from and find respite in each other. With a large degree of symmetry already present in both movements’ respective nationalist political cultures (e.g., commemorations, annual events, heroes, villains and martyrs), a ritualised ‘shared political culture’ (built around key nexus brokers such as Rice, Barrena, Montero, Okiñena, Maskey, and Ó Broin, among others) emerged. In this shared space, neither grassroots activists nor visiting politicians had to justify who they were, their political views, or their outlooks regarding political violence. Cross-­mobilisation encouraged crossfertilisation of norms, values and ideals. Moreover, as interactions increased, “bonds become personal as well as political”.162 Meetings were usually followed by social gatherings and the differentials in Basque and Irish history glossed over for the grand metanarrative of ‘Two Peoples, One Struggle’. Interviewees for this study emphasised a strong current of reciprocity in the relationship dynamic. Specifically, senior Irish republicans noted how, as Irish republicanism moved on to a different phase in the mid-to-late 1990s, they felt a debt of gratitude and sense of obligation towards their izquierda abertzale comrades for having marched with them in Belfast, raised Irish self-determination in Europe, and so on, in the late 1980s/early 1990s.163 As shall become apparent in the next chapter, senior Irish republicans who were close to their Basque comrades prior to the signing of the GFA would become strong advocates for the BIA as the relationship dynamic changed thereafter. On the political front, the DSD of 1993 and the peace process that brought the “Troubles” to an end in 1998 became major international references for radical and moderate Basque nationalists alike. While acknowledging some of the differences in both cases, HB and the PNV tended to focus on and draw attention to Britain’s effective granting of the principle of Irish selfdetermination in the DSD. Even more than two decades on from the 1993 Downing Street Declaration, former Lehendakai Ibarretxe contends that: From a political point of view, I have no doubt that a formal declaration made by a Basque Lehendakari and a Spanish President reproducing in a very similar way the Downing Street terms for the Irish case, would solve 90% of the problem of political coexistence between Euskadi and Spain for the twenty-first century.164

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  231 Arnaldo Otegi, the main political leader of the izquierda abertzale for nearly three decades, has made almost identical statements.165 Bookended by Peter Brooke’s remarks in 1989 and the GFA of 1998, a new Irish Mirror was transposed into the Basque/Spanish context, to be used as a political tool by radical and moderate Basque nationalists to leverage for a similar granting of Basque self-determination from Spain.166 For radical Basque nationalists in particular, developing and intensifying the multistrand nexus with Irish republicanism could only help in strengthening the ‘narrative loop of association’ between the two cases, thereby adding weight to the simple yet effective argument advanced by Otegi et al: “If it could happen in Ireland, why not in the Basque Country?”167 Confronted with this Irish Mirror, Spanish nationalist politicians of the left, right and the mainstream Spanish media effectively ignored Basque nationalist claims for self-determination along the lines of what had been gained by Irish republicans and nationalists. Instead, these actors tended to highlight the differing historical trajectories and contemporary social, economic, cultural and political realities of Northern Ireland and the Basque Country. Above all, they pointed to an inter-communal aspect of the “Troubles” whilst citing its absence in the Basque case. Thus, rather than debating the principle of Irish/Basque self-determination, which Basque nationalists were eager to draw attention to, pro-Spain/Spanish nationalist figures tended to focus on alternative elements present in the Irish case so as to discredit the Irish Mirror comparison. In short, both sides in this debate tended to read, interpret and articulate events in Ireland in line with their own domestic political outlook.168 Finally, the Irish Mirror period of the 1990s crystallised a fundamental difference in the overarching approaches by Madrid and London to their respective ‘regions’. While London could countenance the loss of its last territory in Ireland (and Scotland, as evidenced by the independence referendum of 2014), for many ordinary Spaniards and the Spanish political class, the prospect of losing the Basque Country (or Catalonia) was, and is, a strike at the very idea of Spain itself.169 Indeed, this is precisely why the Irish Mirror was so forcibly rejected; for if you were to apply the UK’s recognition of Northern Ireland’s contested status (as acknowledged in the DSD and GFA) to the Basque context, it would require Spain having to discuss and concede something in the political realm. Notes 1 For example, see: “Sinn Féin ‘undemocratic and still run by the IRA’ says Fianna Fáil leader Micheál Martin,” Belfast Telegraph, 06.02.2017; “Sinn Féin is an undemocratic Marxist clique masquerading as a political party,” Business Post, 13.01.2019; “Mick Fealty: Silence on IRA overseeing Sinn Féin is ‘extraordinary’,” Belfast Telegraph, 22.11.2019; “The close links between Sinn Féin and IRA untangled,” Irish Times, 21.02.2020. 2 Feeney, Sinn Féin, 302–12; White, Ashes, 198. Without any nationalist representation, the Northern Ireland Assembly was eventually abolished in 1986. For

232  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) an overview of its brief existence, see: Cornelius O’Leary, Sydney Elliott, and R.A. Wilford, The Northern Ireland Assembly, 1982–1986 (London: Hurst & Company, 1988). 3 White, Ashes, 201–2; “Westminster election, 11 June 1983,” www.ark.ac.uk/ elections/fw83.htm; “Analysing Maskey’s win,” www.agendani.com/analysingmaskeys-win/; “The 1984 European elections,” www.ark.ac.uk/elections/fe84. htm, sites accessed 25 March 2023. 4 Five people died in the Brighton hotel bombing, including Anthony Berry MP. “IRA Brighton Bomb: Patrick Ryan admits links to 1984 attack,” www.bbc. com/news/uk-northern-ireland-49797327, accessed 14 January 2020. 5 “We will never be slaves again,” AP/RN, 29.06.1984. 6 Both Sinn Féin and HB (and its successor entities) polled between 10% and 20% in every single Northern Irish (1982, 1996, 1998), Basque Autonomous Community (1980, 1984, 1986, 1990, 1994, 1998) and Navarrese (1983, 1987, 1991, 1995, 1999) regional election throughout the 1980s and 1990s, with the exception of the Navarrese regional election in 1995 when HB won 9.2%. During the same period, Sinn Féin’s best result in the Irish General Election was 2.5% in 1997. 7 De Pablo and Mees, Péndulo, 406. 8 Woodworth, Dirty War, 418 (footnote 12). 9 Woodworth, Dirty War. Links and collusion between loyalist groups and British security services have been exposed in several texts. For a short overview, see: “Britain’s Dirty War in Ireland,” www.counterpunch.org/2018/01/03/britainsdirty-war-in-ireland-revisited/, accessed 6 February 2020. 10 “We have the right to be free,” AP/RN, 08.11.1984. 11 Frampton, “Squaring”; Adrian Guelke, “The Peace Process in South Africa, Israel and Northern Ireland: A Farewell to Arms?” Irish Studies in International Affairs 5 (1994): 93–106. 12 For example, an exhibition titled “Palestine, Ireland – One Struggle” was mounted in Belfast’s republican social club Felons in July 1982 by Sinn Féin’s FAB. Cited in: The Provisional Republican Movement, Provisional Sinn Féin, IRA and INLA. General, FCO 87/1570, NA. See also: “South Africa/Ireland – One Struggle,” AP/RN, 29.01.1987. A joint IRA-PLO mural with the words “One Struggle” was painted in Belfast in 1982. See: Bill Rolston, “‘The Brothers on the Walls’: International Solidarity and Irish Political Murals,” Journal of Black Studies 39, no. 3 (2009): 446–70. 13 Author interview with Joseba Álvarez, 2017; Author interview with Alexander Ugalde Zubiri, 2017; Domínguez Iribarren, Ternera, 90. See also: Bullain, Revolucionarismo, 32. In the absence of an authoritative study on this topic, one may partially deduce the BIA’s primary interest in Latin America during this period from PHEH’s extensive international coverage. 14 “Compare and Contrast,” AP/RN, 15.03.1984; “Euskadi. Comentario Seminal,” PHEH, 16–23.03.1984. 15 “Mundo. Comentario Seminal,” PHEH, 16–23.03.1984. 16 “Yo asesiné a Santiago Brouard,” El Mundo, 15.04.2013. 17 “Irlanda del Norte, un acicate para las fuerzas revolucionarios de Europa,” PHEH, 23.11.1984. 18 “More interest needed in foreign affairs,” AP/RN, 08.11.84. The same report states that Okiñena was joined at the Ard Fheis by an unnamed ETA member. See also: “Sinn Féin in Italy,” AP/RN, 20.12.1984. 19 “Election results in Northern Ireland since 1973,” www.ark.ac.uk/elections/ gallsum.htm#lg, accessed 14 January 2020. 20 Author interview with Eugenio Etxebeste, 2017; Author interview with Pat Rice, 2017.

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  233 21 Author interview with Pat Rice, 2017. 22 Irvin, Militant, 2; Patterson, Illusion, 196–98. 23 Northern Ireland Office Letter, 11 October 1985, Sinn Féin Councillors Travelling Abroad, FCO 87/2092, NA. 24 “L’internationale nationaliste,” Le Figaro, 12.09.1984, as cited in: Letter from the Irish Embassy, Paris to the Department of Foreign Affairs, 14 September 1984, Paris, References to alleged IRA links with foreign terrorist organisations, 2014/32/1901, NAI; “Towards a European police state,” AP/RN, 28.02.1985. 25 “Tribute to Euskadi,” AP/RN, 03.07.1986. 26 Ibid. The spelling of surnames in Gaeilge may differ according to gender. In this instance: Breatnach for a male, Bhreatnach for a female. 27 Irvin, Militant Nationalism, 3. 28 O’Brien, Long War, 118–28. 29 Matthew Whiting, Sinn Féin and the IRA: From Revolution to Moderation (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2018), 37. 30 “‘The Green Book: I’ from ‘The IRA’ by Tim Pat Coogan (1993),” https://cain. ulster.ac.uk/othelem/organ/docs/coogan/coogan93.htm, accessed 23 November 2019. 31 Moloney, Secret History, 288. 32 “Speech by Ruairi O’Bradaigh opposing the motion on abstentionism (Resolution 162), Sinn Féin Ard Fheis, Dublin, (2 November 1986),” https://cain.ulster. ac.uk/issues/politics/docs/sf/rob021186.htm, accessed 23 November 2019. 33 “Speech by Martin McGuiness on the issue of abstentionism (Resolution 162), Sinn Féin Ard Fheis, Dublin, (2 November 1986),” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/ issues/politics/docs/sf/mmcg021186.htm, accessed 12 November 2019. 34 Hanley, IRA, 198; Moloney, Secret History, 288–89. 35 Moloney, Secret History, 21–33. 36 Whitfield, Endgame, 70–74. Txomin died suddenly in an accident on 27 February 1987. He was succeeded in Algeria by Eugenio Etxebeste (Antxon). 37 Casanova, ETA, 332; Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, “El Enfrentamiento de ETA con la democracia,” in Historia de ETA, coord. Elorza, 277–420; Murua, Ending ETA, 164. 38 “Txema Montero, un año después de las elecciones europeas,” PHEH, 22– 29.09.1988; Author interview with José María “Txema” Montero, 2016. Sinn Féin did not win its first European Parliament seats until 2004. Maskey quote cited in: “Alex Maskey, vicepresidente del Sinn Féin de Irlanda,” Askatzen, no. 12, November 1990. 39 “The same aims,” AP/RN, 05.11.1987. 40 “After Enniskillen. Interview with Gerry Adams,” AP/RN, 19.11.1987; Moloney, Secret History, 340–42; “Ulster terrorist bomb kills 11,” The Guardian, 09.11.1987. 41 The Ajuria Enea Pact is reproduced in: De Pablo et  al. eds., Documentos, 178–81. 42 “Gibraltar Bomb Sought After IRA Deaths,” Los Angeles Times. 03.03.1988; “British police kill ‘IRA Gang’ in Gibraltar,” The Guardian, 07.03.1988; “Terror network fantasy,” AP/RN, 12.05.1988; “Gibraltar Inquest,” AP/RN, 29.09.1988. In an interview published in a Spanish periodical at the end of March 1988, Adams dismissed suggestions of “collaboration” between ETA and the IRA. See: “No hay colaboración entre IRA y ETA,” Interviu, 30.03.1988. 43 “A Chronology of the Conflict—1988,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/othelem/chron/ ch88.htm, accessed 16 January 2020. 44 “On the brink of civil war. The two dark weeks that still haunt Northern Ireland,” Irish Times, 19.03.2018. 45 Moloney, Secret History, 261–86, 406, 677–79.

234  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) 46 Murua, Ending ETA, 36. 47 Whitfield, Endgame, 70–74. 48 “Dos encapuchados asesinan al diputado de HB Muguruza y causan heridas graves a Esnaola,” El País, 21.11.1989. 49 Edward W. Walker, Dissolution: Sovereignty and the Breakup of the Soviet Union (Oxford: Rowman & Littlefield, 2003), 63; Francis Fukuyama, The End of History and the last Man (London: Hamish Hamilton, 1992). 50 Gurutz Jáuregui, “Basque nationalism: sovereignty, independence and European integration,” in European Integration and the Nationalities Question, eds. John McGarry and Michael Keating (London and New York: Routledge, 2006), 239–57. 51 Michael Cox, “Bringing in the ‘international’: the IRA ceasefire and the end of the Cold War,” International Affairs 74, no. 3 (1997): 671–93. 52 Rogelio Alonso, The IRA and Armed Struggle (London and New York: Routledge, 2007), 150. 53 “Irish Peace Process—Chronology of Events Leading to Peace Process (January 1988–April 1993),” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/peace/pp8893.htm, accessed 16 January 2020. Brooke’s November 1989 comments were followed up a year later by an even more significant intervention in which he stated that “the British government has no selfish strategic or economic interest in Northern Ireland”. See: Cox, “Bringing.” 54 “El espejo irlandés,” PHEH, 30.11–14.12.1989. 55 For various Sinn Féin-HB encounters in early 1990, see: “International Solidarity,” AP/RN, 08.02.1990; “Huge display of support,” AP/RN, 10.05.1990; “Basque MEP applauds freedom struggle”; “Many parallels between Ireland and Euskadi,” AP/RN, 10.05.90. 56 Conversi, “Domino”; Kevin Bean and Mark Hayes, “Sinn Féin and the New Republicanism in Ireland: Electoral Progress, Political Stasis, and Ideological Failure,” Radical History Review 104 (Spring 2009): 126–42. See also: Cox: “Bringing.” 57 Elorza, “Vascos guerreros”; Jesús Casquete, En el nombre de Euskal Herria: La religión política del nacionalismo vasco radical (Madrid: Tecnos, 2009), 65. 58 Murua, Ending ETA, 25. For a number of critical studies examining the internal political culture of the izquierda abertzale/MLNV, see: Aretxaga, States, 167–69; Kepa Aulestia, HB: Crónica de un delirio (Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 1998), 92–101; Casquete, Euskal Herria; Jesús Casquete, “Epic, memory and the making of an uncivil community,” in Terrorist Campaign, eds. Leonisio, et al., 87–102. 59 Mao Tse-tung, On Guerrilla Warfare (New York: Dover Publications, 2005), 93. For a short overview of the impact of the Irish State’s blanket ‘Section 31’ ban on Sinn Féin, see: Maillot, New Sinn Féin, 74–76. 60 For example, see: “Dossier Irlanda,” PHEH, December 1986 Cuaderno; “Balas de plástico, parte de la historia de muerte y represión en Irlanda del Norte,” PHEH, 1–8.10.1987; “Los republicanos irlandeses no pierden la esperanza de recuperar el gaélico,” PHEH, 19–26.11.1987; “‘Política de tirar a matar’, en el Ulster,” PHEH, 3–10.03.1988. 61 “Basques’ Solidarity Visit,” AP/RN, 13.08.1987. 62 “Message loud and clear,” “Basque Delegation,” AP/RN, 18.08.1988. 63 Author interview with Pernando Barrena, 2017. My italics for emphasis. 64 Author interview with ‘A’. 65 “Basque Prisoners in Struggle,” The Captive Voice/An Glór Gafa. Winter 1990. The Basque prisoner piece carried in The Captive Voice/An Glór Gafa was subsequently reproduced in Askatzen, a short-lived periodical that covered the international activities of the BIA. See: Askatzen, July 1991. See also: “Euskadi

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  235 visit an inspiration,” AP/RN, 21.06.1990; “News from inside out,” AP/RN, 06.12.90. 66 “Rome Conference,” AP/RN, 03.03.1988; Author interview with Bairbre de Brún, 2016. 67 “Heart Warming Solidarity,” AP/RN, 03.10.91. 68 “Learning about the Basque struggle,” AP/RN, 01.08.1991; “Herri Batasunaren Kanpoko Etzinzak,” Askatzen, December 1991; “West Belfast Festival,” An AP/RN, 08.08.1991; “Celebration of endurance and resistance,” AP/RN, 15.08.1991. 69 Author interview with Pernando Barrena, 2017. 70 “We will not be sold short,” AP/RN, 27.02.1992; “Sinn Féin in Euskadi,” AP/ RN, 19.03.1992; “Working for peace on 3 continents,” AP/RN, 09.04.1992; “Basque solidarity picket,” AP/RN, 11.06.1992. 71 “People power,” AP/RN, 13.08.1992. 72 “Celebrating resistance,” AP/RN, 10.08.1989; “Celebrating resistance,” AP/ RN, 17.08.1989; “Welcome for international visitors,” AP/RN, 09.08.1990. In the view of the scholar David I. Kertzer, “rituality” in political organisations serves to produce links of solidarity. Cited in: José Manuel Mata López, El nacionalismo vasco radical: Discurso, organización y expresiones (Bilbao: Servicio Editorial UPV/EHU, 1993),76. 73 “Murals express international solidarity,” AP/RN, 27.08.1992. 74 Rolston, “Brothers.” 75 “Basque struggle remains vibrant,” AP/RN, 28.03.1996; Iñaki Iriondo and Ramón Sola, Mañana, Euskal Herria: Entrevista con Arnaldo Otegi (Bilbao: Baigorri Argitaletxea, 2005), 76; “Jon Idígoras. Farewell to a figure of Basque history,” AP/RN, 16.06.2005; “An elusive peace,” An Phoblacht, 01.12.2005. 76 “El otoño caliente del IRA,” PHEH, 19.10.1984; “El derecho inalienable …,” PHEH, Cuaderno April 1985; “Herri Batasuna,” AP/RN, 13.06.1985. 77 Cullen, “Gora Rebeldiak!” 421–35. 78 Pragnère, “Exporter.” 79 My analysis of a ritualised ‘shared political culture’ at the intersection of the two movements and my characterisation of this phenomenon as a sort of transnational ‘imagined community’ leans heavily on the following two articles by Stephen Howe and Pascal Pragnère: Stephen Howe, “AFTERWORD: Transnationalisms Good, Bad, Real, Imagined, Thick and Thin,” Interventions 4, no. 1 (2002): 79–88; Pragnère, “Exporter.” For more on this ‘shared political culture’ thesis in the Basque-Irish case, see: Niall Cullen, “‘No Time for Love’: Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations and the Emergence of a Shared Political Culture (1981–98),” Araucaria 24, no. 50 (2022): 229–53. 80 For example, see: Diego Muro, “ETA during democracy, 1975–2011,” in Terrorist Campaign, eds. Leonisio, et al., 35–53; Murua, Ending ETA, 37–38. 81 Mees, Contention, 187–88; Murua, Ending ETA, 39. 82 For the intricate details of this process, see the chapter ‘Stepping Stones’ in: Moloney, Secret History, 261–86. 83 “First Joint Statement issued by John Hume and Gerry Adams, 24 April 1993,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/peace/docs/ha24493.htm, accessed 18 January 2020. 84 Eamon Collins, Killing Rage (London: Granta Books, 1997), 8–9. 85 “Joint Declaration on Peace: The Downing Street Declaration, Wednesday 15 December 1993,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/peace/docs/dsd151293.htm, accessed 18 January 2020. 86 Opinion polls have consistently shown that a large majority in the Irish State favour Irish unity. See: English, Freedom, 421–22.

236  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) 87 “British Response to Sinn Fein Request for Clarification of the Joint Declaration on Peace: The Downing Street Declaration, (19 May 1994),” https://cain.ulster. ac.uk/issues/politics/docs/nio/nio190594.htm, accessed 18 January 2020. 88 “Ulster initiative gives Spain a delicate problem,” The Guardian, 18.12.1993; “El PNV dice que el Ejército impide una solución para Euskadi como la del Ulster,” El Mundo del País Vasco, 17.12.1993; “El tema del Ulster reabre la polémica sobre la autodeterminación en Euskadi,” Deia, 18.12.1993; Author interview with Pernando Barrena, 2017; Author interview with Karmelo Landa, 2016. See also: “Críticas al PNV del PSOE y PP,” El Diario Vasco, 18.12.1993. 89 “Adams in Euskadi,” AP/RN, 19.05.1994. 90 “Solidarity with Basques,” AP/RN, 09.06.1994. 91 “Irish Republican Army (IRA) Ceasefire Statement, 31 August 1994,” https:// cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/peace/docs/ira31894.htm, accessed 18 January 2020. 92 “Sin IRA,” ABC, 01.09.1994. 93 Informe sobre la visita de elkarri de Belfast, 22 September 1994, Elkarri, Lazkaoko Beneditarren Fundazioa [LBF]. 94 Sobre la situación del proceso vasco hacia la paz, 10 November 1999, Donostia, Elkarri, LBF. 95 Author interview with Gorka Espiau, 2017. 96 For example, see: Alonso, “Pathways”; “La otra vía irlandesa,” El País, 31.98.1995. 97 Informe, Elkarri, LBF. 98 “CLMC Ceasefire Statement,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/peace/docs/ clmc131094.htm, accessed 13 April 2020. 99 Declaración conjunta de las mesas nacionales del Sinn Féin y de Herri Batasuna, 21 October 1994, Elkarri, LBF. 100 Alternativa Democrática is reproduced in: De Pablo et  al. eds., Documentos, 182–83. 101 “Reflexiones sobre el comunicado del IRA,” Zutabe, no. 93, December 2001. 102 Moloney, Secret History, 438–39. 103 Letter from Laurence McKeown, Sinn Féin Foreign Affairs, Sinn Féin, Belfast, Elkarri, LBF. 104 Rueda de prensa: Euskal Herria es el pueblo del mundo con mayor atención sigue el proceso de paz irlandés, 21 August 1995, Donostia, Elkarri, LBF. 105 “HB dice que Elkarri crea confusión,” Deia, 01.09.1995; “La paz del Ulster reúne a políticos en Bilbao,” Deia, 01.09.1995; “Reflexión sobre el proceso de paz irlandés, hoy en Bilbo,” Egin, 01.09.1995. 106 Author interview with Denis Haughey, 2018; “Elkarri difundió la referencia irlandesa,” Egin, 03.09.1995. 107 “HB no acudirá a la manifestación de Elkarri en apoyo al proceso de paz irlandés,” El Mundo, 01.09.1995; “PNV, EA y HB piden una solución política al conflicto vasco,” El Mundo, 02.09.1995; “Hacia la paz desde la autodeterminación,” Egin, 02.09.1995. 108 For example, see: “Ulster: perspectiva o espejismo,” El País, 25.08.1995; “Claves de un paralelismo,” El País, 31.08.1995; “El PP dice que el diálogo con HB sólo sirve para dar un balón de oxígeno a ETA,” ABC, 02.09.1995; “El diálogo como método,” El Correo, 03.09.1995. 109 “Kanpoko Ekimenak,” Herria Eginez, November 1995. 110 “Garzón encarcela a Jon Idígoras,” El País, 21.02.1996. 111 “Concern at arrest of Basque leaders,” AP/RN, 29.02.1996; “Basque solidarity protest,” AP/RN, 07.03.1996. 112 “Basque struggle remains vibrant,” AP/RN, 28.03.1996. 113 Mees, Contention, 182–83. 114 Koldo San Sebastián, Enderezando El Bucle: Crónica Del Antinacionalismo Vasco Y Memoria Incompleta De Una Transición Inconclusa (Irun: Alga, 2002).

The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98)  237 115 “Basque leadership faces arrest,” AP/RN, 05.09.1996; “Basques meet Irish parties,” AP/RN, 12.09.1996; “Basque group’s claim on meeting with Mitchell denied,” Irish Times, 07.09.1996. 116 “Siete años de cárcel para los 23 dirigentes de HB,” El País, 02.12.1997. 117 Mees, Contention, 186–90, 192–193; Fernández Soldevilla, Voluntad, 110. 118 “Fallecidos por terrorismo,” www.interior.gob.es/fallecidos-por-terrorismo, accessed 22 February 2020. 119 Moloney, Secret History, 441–42. 120 “Sinn Féin ready to accept Mitchell principles,” The Independent, 21.05.1996. 121 Moloney, Secret History, 473–79. On 15 August 1998, the ‘Real IRA’ was responsible for the Omagh bombing, which killed 29 people, including a pregnant woman carrying twins. “The Omagh Bomb,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/ omagh/events.htm, accessed 8 April 2019. 122 “The Agreement,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/events/peace/docs/agreement.htm, accessed 5 February 2020. 123 Alonso, “Pathways”; Brendan O’Leary, “Mission Accomplished? Looking Back at the IRA,” Field Day Review 1 (2005): 217–46. For a number of diverse interpretations of the Irish peace process and the GFA, see: McGarry, ed., Divided. 124 McKittrick et  al., Lost Lives, 1551–554. 3,635 is the figure provided by ­McKittrick et al. for the period 1966 to 1998. The same work cites 3,720 as the figure for 1966 to 2006. 125 Alonso, The IRA, 1–4; Anthony McIntyre, Good Friday: The Death of Irish Republicanism (Dublin: Ausubo Press, 2008). 126 English, Terrorism, 124–25; Martyn Frampton, The Long March: The Political Strategy of Sinn Féin: 1981–2007 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 84. 127 Thomas Hennessey, The Northern Ireland Peace Process: Ending the Troubles? (Dublin: Gill & Macmillan, 2000), 219–20. 128 For the ‘stalemate’ theory, see: English, Armed Struggle, 280, 307, 321; Taylor, Provos, 298–312. For the impact of the end of the Cold War on Irish republicanism, see: Cox, “Bringing.” 129 “A new phase of our struggle”, cited in: “IRA Easter Message 2008,” AP/RN, 20.03.2008. For a similar analysis of Sinn Féin’s narrative around the peace process, see: White, Ashes, 342–43. “Cash in our chips” and “another 25 years” are direct quotes from two senior republicans interviewed for this study. 130 Moloney, Secret History, 479. ‘Kitchen cabinet’ has been used by historians and commentators to describe Gerry Adams’ close political allies and associates. See: Feeney, Sinn Féin, 383. 131 For a detailed analysis, see: Moloney, Secret History, 251–55, 297–99. 132 “A new arena of struggle,” AP/RN, 17.10.1998. 133 For analyses of anti-GFA republican responses, see: English, Armed Struggle, 315–21; White, Ashes, 373–86 (“Got Fuck All” quote on 303). 134 “El Gobierno español destaca el ‘triunfo de la razón sobre la violencia’,” El País, 12.04.1998. 135 Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, Dentro de ETA: La vida diaria de los terroristas, 4th ed. (Madrid: Aguilar, 2002), 183. 136 “Comunicado [de ETA] de Abril de 1998,” Zuzen, no. 68, March 1999. 137 “A worldwide audience,” AP/RN, 23.04.1998. 138 “Learning from the Basque struggle,” AP/RN, 10.08.1995. 139 Author interview with Pat Rice, 2017. 140 “Republican youth demand their place,” AP/RN, 26.10.1995. 141 Author interview with Eoin Ó Broin, 2015. 142 Author interview with Josetxo Otegi, 2016. 143 Author interview with Eoin Ó Broin, 2015.

238  The Forging of a Shared Political Culture (1984–c.98) 44 “A member of Jarrai …,” AP/RN, 28.03.1996. 1 145 Author interview with Eoin Ó Broin, 2015. 146 “Basque youth shows the way,” AP/RN, 09.05.96. 147 Sinn Féin Youth. 1st National Congress. Annual Report, 17 October 1998, PH1607, LLB. 148 Author interview with Arturo Villanueva, 2017. 149 Author interview with Eoin Ó Broin, 2015. 150 “Vibrancy of youth leads Basque struggle,” AP/RN, 27.03.1997; “Fury at murder of ETA volunteer,” AP/RN, 03.04.1997; “The youth reclaim the Basque country,” AP/RN, 05.06. 1997. 151 “Easter inspiration to Basque nationalists,” AP/RN, 03.04.1997. 152 De la Granja and Casquete, “Aberri Eguna.” For another IRM piece linking the 1916 Rising with the Aberri Eguna via Eli Gallastegi, see: “Basque Country and Ireland,” AP/RN, 13.04.2006. Notwithstanding the mainly religious provenance of the Aberri Eguna, de la Granja notes in a separate text that “it is likely that the promoters of this celebration [also] had the Irish precedent in mind”. See: De la Granja, Ángel o demonio, 305. 53 Lorenzo Espinosa, Gudari, 62. 1 54 “Espejo irlandés,” El País, 15.11.2001; “Terrorismo en familia,” El Correo, 1 20.04.2009. 155 Sinn Féin Youth. 1st National Congress, LLB; “Irish and Basque youth links planned,” AP/RN, 28.08.1997. 156 Author interview with Eoin Ó Broin, 2015. 157 “Confident republican youth movement up and running,” AP/RN, 28.08.1997. 158 Anonymous interview. 159 “Sinn Féin Youth in Basque Country,” AP/RN, 02.04.1998; “Report of Tour,” AP/RN, 09.04.1998; “Doing it themselves,” AP/RN, 30.04.1998. 160 Author interview with Arturo Villanueva, 2017. 161 For the political isolation of HB and Sinn Féin in the late 1980s, see: Irvin, Militant, 133–38. 162 Author interview with Eoin Ó Broin, 2015. 163 Author interview with Bairbre de Brún, 2016; Author interview with Alex Maskey, 2018; Author interview with Pat Rice, 2017. 164 Author interview with Juan José Ibarretxe, 2017. 165 For example, see: Iriondo and Sola, Mañana, 166–67. 166 A number of Basque nationalist interviewees stressed the significant impact of the DSD on the Basque political dynamic in the 1990s. Author interview with Pernando Barrena, 2017; Author interview with Karmelo Landa, 2016; Author interview with Juan José Ibarretxe, 2016. 167 “Basque leader sees peace process as the way forward,” Irish Times, 31.10.1998. 168 For a wider discussion, see: Paddy Woodworth, “Ireland and the Basque Country,” History Ireland 9, no. 3 (Autumn 2001). Various works published in the 1990s utilise aspects of the contested Irish Mirror to either support or negate Basque nationalist claims. For instance, see: Antoni Batista, Diario Privado De La Guerra Vasca (Barcelona: Plaza and Janes, 1999); Iñigo Gurruchaga, El modelo irlandés: historia secreta de un proceso de paz (Madrid: Península, 1998); Juaristi, Bucle; San Sebastián, Enderezando. 169 For similar analyses, see: Bew et  al., Talking, 245; Paddy Woodworth, “The Basque Country: the heart of Spain, a part of Spain, or Somewhere Else Altogether,” Studies in 20th & 21st Century Literature 33, no. 2 (2009).

7 ‘Very Irish’ A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)

On 22 May 1998, concurrent referenda held in Northern Ireland and Éire/ Ireland paved the way for ratification of the Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement. In Northern Ireland, 71.1% supported the accord, with exit polls indicating 96% of Catholics having voted in favour. The same data suggested Protestant support to have been in the region of 55%. In the South, 94.4% voted in favour of the Irish Government’s proposed amendments to Articles 2 and 3 of the Irish Constitution.1 In the run-up to the historic vote, Herri Batasuna printed no fewer than 10,000 copies of the GFA in Euskara and Spanish for its supporters to digest. Hundreds of Irish tricolours were also shipped from Dublin in preparation for at least 44 rallies held in Basque cities and towns on referenda day under the slogan ‘Ireland says yes. The Basque Country also says yes’. Simultaneously, Herri Batasuna proposed that all Basque “political parties, trade unions and social and non-violent movements” meet at an ‘Irish Forum’ to analyse the Irish peace process and “try to find a way to peace for the Basque Country”.2 For the Basque izquierda abertzale, the GFA and the effective ‘ending’ of the “Troubles” in Northern Ireland in 1998 had three significant implications: First, akin to the DSD, the GFA was used as a tool by radical and moderate Basque nationalists to continue to leverage for negotiations with Madrid on issues of Basque sovereignty and self-determination. Second, as the next section (‘From Belfast to Bilbao’) illustrates, the GFA offered guiding principles and a kind of emulative roadmap for radical Basque nationalists to follow, or at least aspire to. And third, the GFA copper-fastened the status of the Irish republican movement as the izquierda abertzale’s most valuable international partner. On this third point, the advantages for the BIA in maintaining and nurturing its transnational relationship with Irish republicanism post-GFA were more discernible than ever. Not only had Sinn Féin built up an extensive network of contacts throughout the peace process, especially in the United States, but party leader Gerry Adams, alongside his contemporaries in the SDLP, John Hume, and the UUP’s David Trimble, had garnered the (temporary) attention and goodwill of almost the entire international community. Stemming from Sinn Féin’s ‘soft power’ reach, the BIA now had greater DOI: 10.4324/9781003368045-7

240  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) potential access to the leading Anglophone political brokers in the international community—a constituency that had, for many decades, shown little or no interest in the Basque case. While there was a clear rationale for the BIA to continue its beneficial relationship with the IRM, it was not so immediately evident what radical Basque nationalism offered the Irish republican movement in return now that the underlying context in which radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations had been built over previous decades had fundamentally altered. Indicative of the potential for change in the BIA-IRM relationship dynamic, and in the context of increasing police and juridical pressure on the BIA, an article published in AP/RN only one month after the historic GFA referenda noted how [t]he Basque people have long shown an interest in the conflict here and consistently shown solidarity with Irish republicans. Irish republicans must take a deeper look at the situation in Euskal Herria and examine how we can show our support during this difficult period. In other words, having supported the IRM over a long period of time, it was now beholden upon Irish republicans, post-GFA, to step up reciprocal support for their Basque comrades: “[W]ithout international pressure, the Spanish government will continue to terrorise the Basque people and remain reticent in its refusal to negotiate an end to the conflict”.3 Any prospect of the Spanish Government negotiating with ETA and/or HB in the summer of 1998 seemed remote in the extreme. ETA continued to assassinate political representatives, HB’s ‘Mesa Nacional’ remained behind bars, and starting in July 1998 with the closure of the newspaper Egin, various groups and organisations deemed to offer social, moral or material support to ETA became embroiled in what would eventually be referred to as the ‘18/98 macro-[judicial] process’.4 It was in this tumultuous context that the Partido Nacionalista Vasco, as well as a broad range of smaller Basque parties, social organisations and trade unions, sensationally announced an accord with Herri Batasuna on 12 September 1998. Four days later, ETA called a ceasefire. In one fell swoop, the Lizarra Agreement (or Pact of Estella) threatened to turn the dynamic of the Basque ‘contention’ completely on its head. From Belfast to Bilbao Rhetorical associations between the Irish peace process and the Lizarra Agreement (later referred to as the Lizarra-Garazi Agreement, LGA) could not have been more explicit. As well as the name of the initiative that led to the accord (Foro Irlanda/Irish Forum), the agreement itself opened with a seven-point analysis of the factors that had, according to its authors, “propitiated the Peace Agreement in the north of Ireland”. One source has even suggested that

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  241 Father Alec Reid, the Redemptorist priest who played a vital role in the early days of the Irish peace process, may have drafted aspects of the agreement.5 At the heart of the LGA was the view that: “All parties to the [Irish] conflict accepted the origins and its political nature and, consequently, that its resolution also should be political”. The document continued: [T]he recognition of the right of the citizens of Ireland to self-­ determination brought depth to the content of democracy (creating new formulas of sovereignty) as well as the method (giving the citizens the last word). These political characteristics contained in the Peace Agreement appreciate the idea of negotiations, not with the intention to win but of solving the conflict, incorporating all the existing traditions of the island and placing all political projects as equals for achieving their political goals without any other limits other than the support of the democratic majority.6 In an interview published in AP/RN less than two weeks after the signing of the LGA, Esther Aguirre underlined the influence of the Irish republican movement in her party’s approach: We tried to involve everyone in building a new way towards peace, like the Republican Movement has done. I think they have helped us very much. They have taught us the way, and it has been very useful for us.7 For his part, Gerry Adams welcomed the LGA and urged “all those involved, and particularly the Spanish government, to learn the lessons of our experience”.8 Whereas two decades earlier, Basque nationalists had sharply diverged in response to the Transition, the LGA effectively demanded that it was time for Basque citizens to decide their own future collectively and independently. While this was standard fare for the BIA, it represented a bold and highly risky strategy for the PNV. Prior to the presentation of the LGA in September 1998, two secret meetings had taken place on 30 July between ETA and the PNV, and ETA and Eusko Alkartasuna (EA, Basque Solidarity; a Basque nationalist and social democratic party that had split from the PNV in the 1980s). In a document submitted by ETA, the paramilitaries had demanded that the PNV and EA— the two moderate lynchpins of the pan-nationalist front—cease all cooperation with PSOE (including their regional affiliate in the Basque Country, PSE-EE) and PP. In addition, the two parties should cooperate with other Basque nationalist organisations to establish a seven-province governmental institution. If these, and other minor conditions were met, ETA would publicly declare an indefinite ceasefire. In private, this ceasefire would be subject to revision every four months. Ergo, if ETA was not happy with the progress being made, it would resume its armed campaign.

242  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) In August, the PNV and EA made suggested qualifications to ETA’s demands. Although ETA rejected these qualifications, this was not communicated back to the parties. Thus, almost from the beginning, the stage was set for a confrontation.9 Another signatory to the accord was the peace movement Elkarri. A former spokesperson for the organisation, Paul Rios, recalls: We were trying to replicate the process in Northern Ireland. So, for us, it was very important the first dialogue between Gerry Adams and John Hume in the nationalist community, at the beginning. So, I think Lizarra [LGA] was trying to replicate that, to start a process of dialogue inside the nationalist community and to open that afterwards with the other communities. I think that’s what the idea was in the beginning. The problem is that we replicated it, but not very good.10 As Rios’ final comment alludes to, even though the LGA was, in theory, open and pluralistic, the “problem” was that apart from the Basque regional sector of Izquierda Unida (United Left), all of the political party signatories to the LGA process were essentially drawn from a Basque nationalist perspective or advocated the principle of Basque self-determination. For the PP and PSE-EE, who between them represented a substantial minority within the Basque Autonomous Community, the LGA was anathema. Criticism from the Spanish right and left immediately rained down on the PNV for its act of “betrayal”.11 Gerry Adams flew into the eye of this Basque storm—in a private plane hired by HB—on 5 October 1998. Arriving in Bilbao, Adams was welcomed by a crowd of well-wishers waving Irish flags before being ushered into a press gathering of more than one hundred local and international journalists. To his right sat Pat Rice, providing translations of questions and generally acting as Adams’ Basque chaperone. To his left sat Arnaldo Otegi, a former Poli-Mili who had been elevated to HB’s leadership cadre following the imprisonment of the party’s ‘Mesa Nacional’ in 1997. During the press conference, Otegi called on the Spanish Government to publicly state that “the future of Euskal Herria is the choice of the Basques”.12 After the media gathering, a joint lunch was attended by Adams and an assemblage of HB and PNV deputies. This was followed by a private meeting between Adams and the long-time PNV President Xabier Arzalluz. Later that evening, Adams attended another meeting with LGA signatories before rounding off his trip by visiting Karmelo Landa in prison.13 Reflecting on the benefit of Adams’ visit to the Basque Country and other IRM-BIA encounters from this period, Pat Rice opines: [W]hen the Irish peace process started to happen, [Herri Batasuna] saw possibilities—obviously they were conscious of the differences [in each process] and they were conscious of the different opposition [in each

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  243 country], they were conscious of all kinds of factors—but I think they saw possible … well, they did, frankly, see benefits from trying to tie a kind of similar peace process modelled on nationalist unity and all that kind of thing.14 With the PNV now de facto allies of Herri Batasuna in a pan-nationalist front, Adams’ meeting with Arzalluz had been given the green light by HB. Indeed, according to Rice, practically all of Sinn Féin’s initiatives vis-à-vis the Basque Country were subject to HB guidance: We accepted that we had a relationship with [Herri] Batasuna … we accepted that we were dealing with decent, reliable people. We would have taken our line in Euskadi—who we talked to or who we didn’t talk to—very much from them […] Our relationship with any other group in the Basque Country would have been determined almost totally by [Herri] Batasuna. Rice gives two examples of how this exclusive relationship typically worked. For instance, “Txema” Montero, who had left Herri Batasuna in 1992 and moved into the orbit of the PNV, subsequently contacted Rice regarding a possible Basque-Irish youth initiative. Rice, who had always maintained good personal relations with Montero, politely declined. Similarly, Rice recalls turning down invitations to several Elkarri-organised talks and events out of respect for Herri Batasuna. In short, if HB were opposed to a particular invite, Rice—having consulted with others in Sinn Féin’s International Office—would invariably decline. Rice: “Very often the approach would be made through me, but of course I wouldn’t be deciding on my own or anything”.15 Rice’s overview is indirectly corroborated by the former spokesperson for Elkarri, Paul Rios, who notes that the izquierda abertzale often “blocked” Elkarri’s attempts to establish dialogue with Sinn Féin.16 As far as I can tell, on only two occasions did a Basque political representative other than a member from HB (or from HB’s successors parties) officially attend a Sinn Féin Ard Fheis between 1983 and 2011. This was in 1995 and 1996 when Begoña Lasagabaster of EA attended on both occasions (Lasagabaster was joined by Karmelo Landa of HB in 1995 and HB’s Karlos Rodríguez in 1996). According to Pat Rice, the move to invite an additional Basque party came from Sinn Féin. Herri Batasuna was consulted and was seemingly “happy” with the arrangement.17 On 25 October 1998, elections to the Basque Parliament were held. Herri Batasuna candidates ran under the collective banner of Euskal Herritarrok (EH, Basque Citizens) alongside two smaller leftist parties: Zutik (Stand Up) and Batzarre (Assembly). With ETA’s ceasefire and the Lizarra-Garazi Agreement in place, the HB-led coalition was rewarded by the Basque electorate, increasing its seat tally from 11 to 14. With the PP also increasing its representation (11 to 16), the new PNV Lehendakari-in-waiting, Juan José

244  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) Ibarretxe, was forced to rely on EH deputies in order to secure his investiture.18 Coming off the back of the LGA, this further ratcheted up criticism of the PNV from Madrid. Despite the fierce public discourse that pitted Basque and Spanish nationalists against each other during the election and the Spanish Government’s rejection of the LGA initiative, José María Aznar’s Secretary of State for Security, Ricardo Martí Fluxá, sounded out the British Prime Minister Tony Blair’s Chief of Staff, Jonathan Powell, the USA Special Envoy for Northern Ireland, George Mitchell, and the UN Secretary General, Kofi Annan, on the merits of engaging in talks with ETA. Exploratory discussions between intermediaries of the Spanish Government and ETA subsequently took place the following May in Switzerland, with both sides reportedly exchanging comments on the Irish peace process. As with the Algeria process a decade earlier, however, it quickly became apparent that there was an unbridgeable gap in expectations between the two sides. While Aznar would only consider “peace for prisoners”, and on condition of ETA definitively ending its violence, the latter sought to win political concessions from Madrid. A second round of talks was agreed in principle but ultimately never materialised.19 In July 1999, exactly one year after the secret discussions that preceded the LGA, another covert meeting took place in France between the PNV, EA and ETA. ETA presented proposals to call coordinated elections across the BAC, Navarre and the French Basque Country, which the PNV immediately rejected as utopian.20 The Basque pan-nationalist front that had been constructed during the Foro Irlanda was now under severe strain. Notwithstanding the fragility of the LGA initiative, on 18 September 1999, 1,778 municipal representatives attended and formally established the first ‘Udalbiltza’ (a Basque acronym for ‘Assembly of Municipalities and Municipal Representatives of Euskal Herria’) at the Palacio Euskalduna in Bilbao.21 Encompassing elected representatives from the seven historical Basque territories, this cross-border ‘National Assembly’ went some way towards building an institutional framework for the greater Basque region of Euskal Herria, even if, for the moment, its powers were practically non-existent. All the while, the PNV and EA continued to operate within existing Spanish State bodies and structures. This was too much for ETA. On 28 November 1999, after more than a year of what ETA perceived as a lack of progress on constructing a new Euskal Herria, the organisation gave effective notice to the end of its ceasefire. In a break from the norm, ETA apportioned most of the blame for the impending collapse at the door of Basque nationalist elements, as opposed to the Spanish State.22 According to Florencio Domínguez, ETA had carefully analysed the IRA’s recent strategy of large-scale attacks on English commercial centres before resuming its armed campaign in Spain. Deciding to recommence with a ‘spectacular’ of its own, ETA made arrangements for 1,700 kilos of explosives to be moved to Madrid. In the end, ETA’s planned attack came undone when the Guardia Civil managed to intercept the group’s transport vehicles.23

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  245 ETA began the new millennium with a less ‘spectacular’—but nonetheless fatal—car bomb attack in Madrid on 21 January 2000. Lieutenant Colonel Pedro Antonio Blanco died in the blast. If there was still any lingering doubt about the organisation’s return to violence, ETA followed up its bomb in Madrid with a spate of lethal attacks against politicians and Spanish security personnel over the following months. Notwithstanding some notable exceptions, Herri Batasuna refused to condemn the renewal of ETA’s violence. The Basque pan-nationalist front and, consequently, the entire Lizarra-Garazi process, quickly dissolved away in a storm of recriminations and bitterness. Moreover, the very fabric of Basque civil society was beginning to show signs of what some have labelled ‘polarised pluralism’24—a term that, historically, would be more fitting for Northern Ireland. Brothers in Arms

Away from the difficult bedding down of the new political dispensation in Northern Ireland and the acrimony of the Lizarra-Garazi process in the Basque Country, the by-now established rhythm of IRM-BIA relations across various movement strands carried on as usual. To give but a handful of examples, in late June 1998, a five-strong delegation from Jarrai embarked on a nine-day trip to Ireland “to make a youth orientated analysis of the Irish peace process to see if there are lessons to be learned for the ongoing conflict in Euskal Herria”. That same month, a video on the “struggle of the Basque prisoners”, titled with the republican slogan ‘Tiocfaigh ár lá’ (Our Day Will Come), was disseminated among young activists. In September, two delegates of an Irish republican prisoner advocacy group Saoirse (Freedom) travelled to the Basque Country, where they held talks with their Basque counterparts and with “political, community and church representatives”. Finally, in October 1998, the aforementioned BIA youth representatives Arturo Villanueva and Josetxo Otegi addressed Sinn Féin Youth’s First National Congress.25 Prisoner advocacy links, youth relations, and a hive of Sinn Féin-HB reciprocal visits throughout 1998 by Arnaldo Otegi, Aguirre, Adams and Rice documented, what of the ETA-IRA military connections that had been so heavily speculated upon in the British, Spanish and Irish media in the 1970s and early 1980s?26 Whereas ETA and IRA militants had often alluded to cooperation in clandestine interviews conducted with journalists during the 1970s (which were then reprinted in the mainstream press), BIA-IRM contacts and relations throughout the 1980s were more often than not publicly channelled through HB and Sinn Féin’s rather more humdrum pronouncements of “solidarity” at the latter’s annual Ard Fheiseanna. In the absence of the Cold War, joint ETAIRA statements, allusions to advanced cooperation, shadowy encounters on the continent, and so forth, mainstream media simply moved on. This general synopsis notwithstanding, the spectre of ETA-IRA cooperation did still occasionally crop up. The most serious claims appeared in an El País article in January 1990, in which Spanish security intelligence was

246  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) said to have found “conclusive evidence” of “close logistical collaboration” between ETA and the IRA. In particular, IRA cooperation was said to have assisted ETA in the construction of the group’s ‘Jo Ta Ke’ (Give it hard) improvised mortars.27 Press innuendo was also briefly piqued in 1996 when the IRA ‘sleeper’ Diarmuid “Ginger” O’Neill was shot dead during a police raid in London. Survived by his Basque girlfriend and apparently well known in the Biscayan town of Amorebieta, O’Neill’s death provoked the Irish Independent to run an article headlined: “Shot London IRA activist new hero of Basques”.28 Of more relevance to this study are the allegations of ETA-IRA cooperation first mentioned in Florencio Domínguez’s Dentro de ETA: La vida diaria de los terroristas (Inside ETA: The daily life of the terrorists), published in 2002. At the beginning of Chapter 10, Domínguez recounts how the aforementioned Irantzu Gallastegi (Amaia), granddaughter of Gudari, and another ETA militant, Mikel Zubimendi, were arrested by French police on 9 March 1999 in Paris. The two ETA members were allegedly carrying out what the group had codenamed ‘Operación Gorris’ (Operation Reds). This operation apparently “consisted of the purchase of weapons from some German dealers”. Ten years later, in the same author’s La Agonía de ETA (The Agony of ETA), two individuals, James Monaghan, and another referred to by the alias of “Jenifer”—both “official representatives of the IRA”—were named as the IRA’s interlocutors with ETA during the 1999 operation in Paris.29 According to Domínguez, the IRA duo had been working with ETA for many years, “facilitating contacts with other arms dealers on the international market and selling [to ETA] IRA surpluses”. These IRA surpluses had apparently included two Russian-made missiles sold to ETA only a few months previously. Separately, it has been alleged that a plot to kill President Aznar in 2001 failed due to a “faulty IRA missile”.30 Other ETA-IRA links referred to throughout the following 21 pages of Domínguez’s text included ongoing contacts between ETA and IRA representatives since 1996, and specific meetings having occurred between the ETA-IRA Parisian interlocutors in November 1998 and January 1999. Returning to events in the French capital in March 1999, after some confusion over the agreed location, the ETA-IRA encounter was said to have taken place in the Hotel Printania on 8 March. At the meeting, details of the previous two years of transactions were apparently discussed, with ETA in the black to the tune of $675,000. With a consignment of arms worth $125,000 said to be forthcoming (consisting of 50 Sig Sauer pistols, 13.32 calibre silencers, 28 kilos of Semtex and various munition cartridges), the ETA militants had two choices: to purchase more arms from the IRA or receive the outstanding balance. It was seemingly agreed that another meeting would be scheduled within the next four months, at which point ETA would have a decision for their IRA comrades. The two groups subsequently departed.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  247 The following day, the ETA contingent, including the organisation’s military head, José Javier Arizkuren (Kantauri), were arrested by French police after an undercover operation. As reported by Domínguez, the ETA militants immediately suspected that the IRA members had been tracked by British intelligence agents, leading to the Basques’ capture. During a French police raid in the town of Beskoitze in 2004, an undated message sent by the IRA to ETA regarding “what happened in Paris on 8 March when Kantauri, Mikel and the others were arrested” was found. In the communication, it was requested that ETA “communicate to [the IRA] everything you know about [Kantauri’s] arrest” and that a meeting be arranged to discuss the fallout from Paris and “other matters in progress”. Finally, the author of the letter signed off with the following message: “I am the one who has personally worked the most with Kantauri and Mikel”. Domínguez deduces the author of this letter to be “Jenifer”, who was apparently resident in Cuba from 1990 to 1995 as a “representative of the republican movement”. As for the other supposed IRA-ETA interlocutor in Paris, James Monaghan, it has been alleged that Monaghan was “the head of the IRA’s engineering department in charge of design and development of armaments such as sophisticated mortar bombs and rocket launchers”.31 As documented at various points throughout this study, several BIA and IRM figures have either strongly alluded to or acknowledged the existence of some sort of working relationship between ETA (ETA-m and/or ETA-pm) and the IRA. Specifics of these relations have tended to be unforthcoming, however. If Domínguez’s account of mid-to-late 1990s ETA-IRA links in La Agonía de ETA is accurate, it puts some flesh on the bones of this military strand. In summary, Domínguez suggests that, from the mid-1990s to the end of the decade, on an organisation-to-organisation level, the IRA sold arms to ETA and helped traffic arms for them. Under Pressure

In the wake of al-Qaida’s attacks on the United States on 11 September 2001 (9/11), US President George W. Bush declared his country’s so-called war on terror.32 Within 18 months, US-led forces had invaded Afghanistan and Iraq. Among the USA’s traditional European allies, opinion regarding the strategic wisdom and legality of invading the latter of these two countries, Iraq, was deeply divided, with the French and German governments, in particular, voicing their concern. By contrast, Spanish President José María Aznar emerged as one of President Bush’s most ardent supporters. Spain, which held a non-permanent seat on the UN Security Council at the time, subsequently deployed approximately 1,300 troops to Iraq despite opinion polls indicating domestic opposition of more than 90% to the war.33 Notwithstanding the political divisions in Europe provoked by President Bush’s Iraqi “crusade”,34 an emerging post-9/11 consensus among most international states demanded that short thrift be given to any paramilitary

248  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) organisation that continued to carry out acts of terrorism or to political parties that defended (or were seen to defend) said militant organisations.35 This shift spelled trouble for ETA, HB and the broader izquierda abertzale milieu. Already prior to the 9/11 attacks, 2001 was panning out as an annus horribilis for the BIA. In May, the Basque public’s response to ETA’s return to violence was to slash Euskal Herritarrok’s tally of seats in the Basque Parliament from 14 to seven. Meanwhile, the Spanish Audiencia Nacional (National Court) judge Baltasar Garzón initiated a number of new investigations against various sectors of the izquierda abertzale.36 On 28 December 2001, at Spain’s request, the European Union (EU), all 15 states, unanimously declared ETA to be a terrorist organisation, meaning that any assets connected with the group could be frozen and suspected members apprehended in member states.37 2002 and 2003 were to continue in much the same vein. On 26 March 2002, the US Department of the Treasury Office of Foreign Assets Control published an updated list of recognised ‘Foreign Terrorist Organizations’, including ETA; HB; KAS; Euskal Herritarrok; Batasuna (Unity), a de facto successor to HB, organised across Euskal Herria and founded in June 2001; Jarrai; Haika (Get up), a fusion of Jarrai and Gazteriak, the latter of which was Jarrai’s equivalent in the French Basque Country; Segi (Continue), a successor to Haika; Ekin, a successor to KAS; Gestoras Pro Amnistía; Askatasuna, and finally, Xaki, an entity which, according to Garzón, “coordinates all MLNV foreign relations under the supervision of KAS and the control of ETA”.38 In August 2002, Garzón temporarily suspended Batasuna for three years in light of its connections to ETA. The following year, in March 2003, the Spanish Supreme Court formally proscribed Batasuna (as well as HB and EH) on the grounds that it had violated the Spanish State’s new Ley Orgánica de Partidos Políticos (Organic Law of Political Parties)—a law which tightened regulations around the condemnation of terrorist acts.39 Reeling from these blows and increasingly isolated both home and abroad, at least the political leadership cadre of the Basque izquierda abertzale could still count on the solidarity and support of their Irish republican comrades. Or could they? Although certainly not in the same predicament as the Basque izquierda abertzale, the republican movement had its own share of not-insignificant problems. On 11 August 2001, exactly one month before the 9/11 attacks, three Irish republicans with mixed historical membership of Sinn Féin and the IRA had been arrested at Bogotá Airport in Colombia. The three men, Niall Connolly, Martin McCauley, and one of the alleged IRA-ETA interlocutors in Paris, James Monaghan, were suspected of travelling on false passports. News of the ‘Colombia 3’, as they would become commonly referred to, immediately made international headlines. Subsequently charged, acquitted and charged once again on more serious allegations related to training Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia (FARC, Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia) guerrillas, the ‘Colombia 3’ covertly fled the South American state in late 2004.40

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  249 Overlapping with the fallout from 9/11 and coupled with domestic scandals such as the Stormont ‘spygate’ affair of 2002 (which led to the collapse of the NIA that same year) and the ‘Northern bank robbery’ in 2004, the case of the ‘Colombia 3’ badly reflected on Sinn Féin domestically and internationally. It also seriously called into question the credibility of the IRA’s ceasefire.41 ETA did not escape the attention either. As early as October 2000, Colombian and Spanish authorities had flagged links between ETA, FARC and the IRA at an Interpol conference in Paris. According to various sources, the link between the IRA and FARC had come about via Niall Connolly’s contacts with ETA and Cuban intelligence in Havana. Connolly, a fluent Spanish speaker, had been based in Cuba since 1996 as a Sinn Féin party representative.42 Although Sinn Féin had been inviting HB delegates to Ard Fheiseanna since 1983 to little or no comment, given the ‘war on terror’ and Herri Batasuna’s/ Batasuna’s (hereafter Batasuna) travails, this was about to change. In the run-up to Sinn Féin’s first post-9/11 Ard Fheis, the republican party was accused of “crass insensitivity” by unionists for having invited Batasuna’s Joseba Álvarez. Furthermore, after Álvarez’s party was declared illegal, UUP leader David Trimble suggested that if Sinn Féin were to maintain its “connections with ETA and with the now-illegal Batasuna party”, it would be in breach of the GFA. Likewise, Liz O’Donnell, of the southern-based Progressive Democrats, accused Sinn Féin of “fostering ETA terrorists in a fellow EU state”. In the spring of 2002, her party colleague and Chair of the Dáil Foreign Affairs Committee, Desmond O’Malley, requested that Sinn Féin address issues of support for “international terrorism” arising from the ‘Colombia 3’ affair. Responding to O’Malley’s initiative by letter, Gerry Adams and Caomhighín Ó Caoláin (Sinn Féin’s first elected representative to sit in Leinster House) stated: “There is no relation between Sinn Féin and FARC or between Sinn Féin and ETA, although our party has encouraged a peace process in the Basque Country”.43 Finally of note, The Telegraph reported on 30 June 2002 that ETA had “recently supplied the IRA with fresh stocks of plastic explosives”.44 Given ETA’s ongoing campaign; the banning of Batasuna; the political fallout from 9/11; the US-led ‘war on terror’; Sinn Féin’s embroilment in the damaging ‘Colombia 3’ affair, and its IRA-FARC-ETA connections, could Sinn Féin really afford to maintain its relationship with radical Basque nationalists when all it seemed to bring in return was unwanted attention and easy point scoring opportunities for the party’s political rivals? Furthermore, as Martyn Frampton points out: Did the GFA not have serious implications regarding the non-use of violence for the resolution of political conflicts? How could this be squared with Sinn Féin’s support for a Basque party which, depending on one’s interpretation, either actively supported ETA, or at the very least, refused to condemn its actions?45 In 2003, rumours first surfaced in the press of a “split” in Sinn Féin over its “Basque ties”. Writing in the Sunday Independent, the journalist Jim Cusack

250  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) claimed that “[a] division now exists in Sinn Féin as its senior members try to distance themselves from groups such as ETA and other active foreign terrorist groups, including Colombia’s FARC”. Citing concerns about the impact of continued republican associations with ETA “among [Sinn Féin’s]’ friends in the post-September 11 United States”, Cusack depicted the ETA-related division in Sinn Féin as pitting “older, mainly Northern-based Sinn Féin figures” against “some of the Party’s younger figures who still enjoy flirting with foreign ‘revolutionary’ groups who have close associations with terrorism”.46 According to Pat Rice, at least one senior figure in Sinn Féin did indeed question the party’s wisdom in maintaining its Basque links. Rice explains, however, that even when concerns were raised, personal links usually trumped any blowback that the party accrued: Our idea was that, OK, you needed friends, you needed allies for all kinds of purposes, right? But I mean, the idea would always be: does it serve us? In a particular moment, we were kind of at a different stage; we were moving on to new ground and Batasuna, or more specifically, ETA, was maybe at a different point … and I remember a bit of a discussion about how we needed to be careful in our relationships … and that’s normal. I mean, it was our struggle. For them, it had to be their struggle. But I remember … and it brought home to me the value of personal contacts, the value of knowing people, what diplomacy is all about … when that discussion was going on, a very unsentimental republican said: ‘But fuck me! They’re good people!’ And you couldn’t have known that unless you had dealings with them. And it was an important lesson to me.47 For Bairbre de Brún, it was precisely at the most difficult moments that she felt Sinn Féin’s relationship with its Basque comrades was strengthened. Elaborating on this point, de Brún also referenced the advice offered to Sinn Féin by the ANC during the Irish peace process and a certain onus, or feeling of obligation, to similarly act as a sounding board for Batasuna: After [the ANC] took political power, they were able to explain to us all of the pitfalls, things that you had to watch out for, as well as things about negotiations, getting into negotiations, and how you organise all that. And in many ways, then, as our struggle developed, we would have done the same in terms of the Basque Country. We would have explained to them how we developed, why we took certain decisions. I think there was a strong enough level of trust that we were very open with them in our discussions about the things we had learnt and the mistakes we had made … but also why we had taken certain decisions, why we had worked with certain groups, and even though things were very difficult, why people had decided to take specific initiatives in order to try to move things forward … always recognising that no two countries are

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  251 the same. No more than we took a blueprint from the ANC, [Batasuna] didn’t take a blueprint from us […] There were things that they could learn, simply by listening and discussing experiences, or they would have very specific questions. They would come and say: ‘how did you do this? How did you that?’ […] On a good day, it’s always easier to be supporting something that’s moving forward, going well … but having come through a peace process ourselves, we know it’s not all happy and bubbly […] There was never really a discussion about backing away or not [from Batasuna]. I mean, people would have their own views on what was happening at a particular time—why people did A and didn’t do B or C—but there was never any serious suggestion that having had all this international help for our peace process, we would turn around and deny it to others that had been our friends for so long. As for the criticism levelled at the party by political opponents such as David Trimble, de Brún is sanguine: As someone who shared the [Northern Ireland] Executive table in the Assembly with David Trimble, I can say quite happily from my viewpoint that if it wasn’t the Basques, it was going to be something else.48 While some within the republican movement may have, at times, questioned the wisdom of maintaining the IRA-BIA nexus, its well-established rhythms carried on as normal into the early 2000s. BIA political representatives, usually Pernando Barrena, continued to address annual Sinn Féin Ard Fheiseanna. The scores of young radical Basque nationalist activists who arrived in Belfast every August showed no sign of relenting. Coverage in AP/ RN of the juridical and police pressure applied against the BIA milieu, including allegations of torture, was also just as present. One Basque contributor, however, wondered why AP/RN had completely ignored ETA’s resumption of violence in 2000:49 As a regular visitor to Belfast and your struggle’s supporter I have always been glad to read some news about our struggle from time to time. But to my astonishment, there’s nearly no news since ETA ended the year long ceasefire. After the collapsing of the ceasefire due to lack of interest by the Spanish Government in engaging in talks, ETA came back to war. Since January, there have been a number of operations but none of this appeared in your paper. During these months, ETA has attacked both Spanish Army and police forces as well as right-wing party (PP) representatives and sorrowfully, four Volunteers were blown up in a premature explosion last August.50 As the anonymous Basque contributor had detected, much of the bellicose rhetoric that had been a staple of AP/RN for decades when the IRA was at

252  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) its most active was gradually dialled down in step with the evolution of the peace process and the eventual signing of the GFA in 1998. Danny Morrison, a former AP/RN editor and former Sinn Féin Director of Publicity, notes: An Phoblacht, post-peace process, by virtue of the new circumstances, possibly wouldn’t have been as open as we would have been in carrying stuff while the conflict was on here … it would have been no-holdsbarred at that stage [during the ‘Troubles‘]. There was a bit of diplomacy and tact involved, post-98, about being too explicit about other liberation struggles […] In the 70s and 80s you would have got much more explicit coverage, much more explicit solidarity of an ambiguous nature. Post-98, the solidarity would have been more of a political nature.51 Post-GFA expressions of BIA-IRM solidarity and the ongoing development of bilateral relations were most apparent at youth level. In Autumn 2000, two members of the ‘Basque Independence Youth Movement’ attended a Sinn Féin Youth (now referred to by its Irish name, Ógra Shinn Féin) National Congress. A speaking tour of Irish universities was also arranged. The following year, Ógra Shinn Féin (ÓSF) held protests against the criminalisation of their Basque comrades. Finally, in 2002 a new Basque-Irish mural appeared in Belfast that read: “Basque and Irish youth. Independence and Socialism” in Gaeilge, Euskara and English.52 In August 2003, Eoin Ó Broin published a book titled Matxinada: Basque Nationalism and Radical Basque Youth Movements. Based on Ó Broin’s personal experiences of the Basque Country and interviews he conducted with some 30 Basque youth activists, Ó Broin’s book provided a vivid insight into radical Basque nationalist culture and Basque youth culture more generally: from occupied ‘Gaztexeak’ (Youth Houses) and pirate radio stations, to Basque ‘radical rock’ and youth assemblies. Ó Broin also dissected some of the structural and philosophical changes within Jarrai that had seen the radical nationalist youth movement transform from a classic Marxist-Leninist entity into a more open, participatory and horizontal organisation. During interview for this study, both Pernando Barrena and Iñaki Soto (director of the newspaper GARA) expressed the view that Ó Broin’s Matxinada captured a certain halcyon spirit of radical Basque youth in the 1990s. In drawing on the potential lessons for young Irish republicans, Ó Broin encouraged the application of the same core principles of self-organisation and self-management that he had witnessed in the Basque Country. Naturally, not every young Irish republican activist had the ways or means to visit the Basque Country and to experience this kind of radical (nationalist) youth culture at first-hand. Through Matxinada, however, they got the core idea.53 Interviewed at the book’s launch in Belfast, Ó Broin drew parallels between the “repression”’ of Margaret Thatcher’s UK Government in Northern Ireland during the 1980s and the Basque Country’s experience under Aznar. For Ó Broin, “the Basques [now] need our solidarity more than ever”.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  253 As for his hopes for the book, Ó Broin remarked: Firstly, I hope that it enables people to understand the situation in the Basque Country a little better […] Secondly, I think that all struggles have something to learn from others. And we have a lot to learn from the Basques, particularly in terms of their radical youth culture.54 Ó Broin’s successors at the helm of ÓSF, Matt Carthy (1998–2000) and Damian Lawlor (2000–2002), both of whom visited the Basque Country for themselves, were keen to build on ÓSF’s Basque ties under their respective stewardships. For Carthy, Ógra Shinn Féin’s challenge was to emulate “the way [Jarrai had] managed to insert their struggle into popular culture”. Lawlor sought to replicate the visible street presence and distinctive aesthetic of radical Basque nationalism: “One of the big things for us were the skills. When we talked to them, it was ‘how [do we] get the murals?’; ‘How [do we] get the banners’? All of that stuff”. Another area of interest was finance: “We also would have got some of their financial people to sit down with us, and say, right: ‘how are you raising your money? Give us the ins of out of this’”. Both Carthy and Lawlor cite Ógra Shinn Féin’s lack of resources and the regular promotion of emerging talent to the party’s senior ranks as key reasons why ÓSF was unable to build a radical youth movement akin to that which they had witnessed in the Basque County. The same interviewees also pointed to the party’s chariness in allowing the youth wing to develop too independently.55 In 2004, Matxinada was published in Spanish by Txalaparta. Reflecting the increasingly difficult terrain in which the BIA was operating, at least a dozen of Ó Broin’s interviewees were now in prison or had been imprisoned since he conducted his research. Jon Salaberria, the former head of Jarrai and, at the time, a Basque parliamentarian, wrote the prologue for the Spanish version of Ó Broin’s text. In Salaberria’s view, Matxinada served as a beacon of truth in the increasingly important international sphere of “the conflict between Euskal Herria and the Spanish and French states […] [it] is a conflict that increasingly carries greater international repercussions and projection”.56 For Ó Broin’s comrades in Jarrai/Haika/Segi and the other components that made up the radical Basque nationalist community, the early 2000s proved to be a chastising experience. Not only had the hopes of the Foro Irlanda and Lizarra-Garazi Agreement been dashed, but practically the entire movement, including what had once been Herri Batasuna, was now illegal. Even the Basque language daily Egunkaria, which was independent of the BIA, was closed down in February 2003 on charges of connections to ETA. Ten members of staff were arrested, of whom some were allegedly tortured.57 On the use of torture by security forces in the Basque Country more broadly, a 2017 report carried out at the behest of the Basque Government refers to over 4,000 cases of alleged torture having been perpetrated in the Basque Country between

254  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) 1960 and 2014 by members of the Guardia Civil, Spanish National Police, and Ertzaintza, with more than 70% of cases stemming from the democratic era.58 On 23 May 2003, provincial elections were held in Álava, Biscay and Gipuzkoa. Unable to partake in the vote, the electoral coalition of Euskal Herritarrok saw its combined 1999 seat tally of 29 simply vanish.59 Leaving aside the moral, political and legal arguments for and against the banning of a political party, EH had, objectively speaking, paid a hefty price for its inability, reluctance and/or unwillingness to distance itself from ETA’s actions. Throughout the same period, from ETA’s return to violence in early 2000 to May 2003, the paramilitary group killed 48 people, among them, politicians of the PP, PSE-EE and UPN; state security personnel of the Spanish National Police, Guardia Civil and Spanish Army; five Basque Ertzaintzas; one Catalan Mosso d’Esquadra (Catalan Police Force), and a number of citizens. The last of these victims, two National Police officers, Julián Embid and Bonifacio Martín, were killed by a car bomb in Zangotza in Navarre on 30 May 2003.60 ETA would not kill again until December 2006. ETA’s lack of mortal victims in the intermediary period was not as a result of any sudden ‘Road to Damascus’ conversion. Rather, measured crudely in the organisation’s number of mortal victims per year (23 in 2000; 15 in 2001; five in 2002; three in 2003), a clear trajectory in the group’s inefficacy was already evident. Through a combination of coordinated police pressure on militants in Spain and France; a related spike in arrests, convictions and imprisonments; and finally, the first major stirrings of internal debate within the BIA regarding the purpose and utility of ETA’s violence, the organisation’s operational capacity had, by the spring of 2003, been severely reduced. Much like the rest of the izquierda abertzale, ETA was in a state of profound crisis.61 A Window of Opportunity Both radical and moderate wings of Basque nationalism responded to the collapse of the Lizarra-Garazi pan-nationalist front by putting forward fresh political proposals, separately. In January 2002, Batasuna published Un escenario para la paz en Euskal Herria (A Scenario for Peace in Euskal Herria)— a title deliberately chosen to echo a similar Sinn Féin document published in 1987 (A Scenario for Peace).62 Speaking at the launch of the new initiative in Pamplona, Arnaldo Otegi called on the Spanish and French states to recognise Euskal Herria as a political entity with a right to self-determination. Furthermore, Otegi declared that his party renounces the imposition of its pro-independence political project. From a democratic scenario, our project will have sufficient popular support. We renounce this project and therefore we demand that the two states renounce the imposition of theirs on us.63

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  255 In this quid pro quo scenario, Euskal Herria and the two states (Spain and France) would apparently be at peace. Rather than precipitate talks with the Spanish Government, within months of Batasuna’s initiative, Otegi’s party was suspended. Alex Maskey attended the same event in Pamplona, where he stated: All of us share a responsibility to address conflict and injustice and in particular Irish republicans have sought to share our experience of conflict resolution and the lessons which we have learned with others, just as we learned much from the ANC in South Africa. I welcome the initiative taken by Batasuna in launching these new peace proposals […] The international community also has an important role to play in this process by exercising goodwill and influence and by actively seeking and encouraging dialogue and agreement.64 As alluded to in Maskey’s words and those of Jon Salaberria in the previous section, the BIA was beginning to stoke the international projection of its cause.65 As for the PNV’s new political initiative, in September 2002, Lehendakari Ibarretxe proposed a ‘Free Association’ arrangement between the Basque Country and Spain as the first step in a process that would eventually grant the various components of Euskal Herria (BAC, Navarre, French Basque Country) the right to decide their future. Other aspects of the proposal included a powerful Basque judiciary, a right to Basque or dual BasqueSpanish nationality, and a guarantee of Basque consultation on EU decisions.66 Between Batasuna’s ‘Scenario for Peace’ and the PNV’s ‘Ibarretxe Plan’, clear water was once again visible between the two main Basque nationalist parties. The same year that Batasuna and the PNV presented their respective plans, Elkarri embarked on a more understated initiative. At the Clonard Monastery in Belfast, the peace movement’s Jonan Fernández, Gorka Espiau and a Basque priest, Joseba Segura, met Father Alec Reid to discuss the current situation in the Basque Country. As we have seen, Reid had played a significant role encouraging dialogue and acting as a foil between various republican and nationalist actors during the early stages of the Irish peace process. He had also been a sounding board for Basque nationalists around the time of the Lizarra-Garazi Agreement. As for the Basque priest, Segura had seemingly made contact with elements of Sinn Féin during the late 1980s. In Clonard, Reid was once again being asked to lend his experience to the Basque case. This time around, however, and with the encouragement of Sinn Féin—although not its direct sponsorship—Reid packed his bags and effectively moved to the Basque Country in 2002. Over the next four years, he would open channels of communication and develop contacts with various Basque actors and entities in his temporary home, including at the highest echelons of ETA.67

256  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) On the morning of 11 March 2004, a series of coordinated bombs ripped through Madrid’s commuter railway network. In total, 193 people lost their lives in the deadly attack, with a further 2,000 people estimated to have been injured. Occurring only three days before Spanish citizens were due to go to the polls to elect a new government, and with emotions running high, some sought to use the Madrid ‘11-M’ terrorist attacks to their own political benefit. Despite evidence quickly emerging of an al-Qaida cell being responsible for the atrocity, elements of the Partido Popular squarely laid the blame at the door of ETA. Given the deep unpopularity of Spain’s involvement in Iraq, attributing responsibility to ETA—as opposed to Islamic fundamentalists— clearly deflected from the perpetrators’ likely motivation. The PP’s campaign of misinformation spectacularly backfired. Having expected to top the polls, anger and distrust around the party’s handling and representation of the 11-M attack caused its projected vote share to slump dramatically, opening the door for an unlikely PSOE victory. Running on a pledge to withdraw Spanish troops from Iraq, PSOE leader José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero unexpectedly became Spain’s fifth premier of the democratic era. Another feature of Zapatero’s campaign had been his apparent openness to accepting changes to the Catalan statute of autonomy. With a new, seemingly more flexible administration in place in Madrid, and even talk of a ‘Second Transition’, for Basque nationalists in general and the BIA in particular, a window of opportunity had presented itself.68 The ‘Zapatero Process’ Takes Shape

Not long after ETA’s return to violence in 2000, Arnaldo Otegi began to meet up with a fellow Elgoibar native, and PSE-EE representative, Francisco Egea. Meeting at a mutual friend’s rural home just outside the town, the pair were complemented over time by Pernando Barrena and a PSE-EE stalwart, Jesús Eguiguren. With Otegi and Eguiguren as the common denominators, the topic of conversation at these discreet, informal gatherings usually centred on why previous ‘processes’ (Algeria and Lizarra-Garazi in particular) had ended in failure. It turned out that Otegi and Eguiguren agreed on quite a lot: The main problem with the talks in Algeria had been that they were too ETA-centric. As for the LGA, it had effectively side-lined the views of those who typically voted PSE-EE and PP. According to both men’s subsequent accounts of the Elgoibar discussions, another key lesson extrapolated from the dialogue was their shared view that, in Ireland, the principle of ‘consent’ had supplanted a previous topheavy focus on self-determination. This subtle shift, they believed, could be indicative of a possible way forward in the Basque case.69 In April 2004, with PSOE now unexpectedly in power in Madrid, the Eguiguren-Otegi initiative suddenly took on a whole new significance.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  257 Eguiguren immediately disclosed the talks to President Zapatero, who gave his blessing for the senior PSE-EE politician to continue exploring possibilities with Otegi. Almost by accident, a nascent ‘Basque peace process’ had landed on Zapatero’s desk. Whilst the Elgoibar meetings were taking place, Mikel Antza, the head of ETA’s political apparatus, was regularly kept abreast of developments. Mindful of the common ground established between Eguiguren and Otegi, Batasuna and ETA agreed on a new common approach named Udaberri Ponentzia (Udaberri Presentation, or more popularly known by its propaganda campaign, ‘Orain Herria, Orain Bakea’—Now the People, Now the Peace). Otegi presented the general thrust of the new approach at a rally held at Anoeta Stadium in San Sebastián in November 2004. As Teresa Whitfield notes, Udaberri Ponentzia was somewhat of a revolutionary landmark in the history of the BIA. On paper at least, ETA had ceded its position as chief political interlocutor with the Spanish Government to Batasuna. ETA, it was envisaged, would only deal with technical issues arising out of any future negotiations, such as prisoners, refugees and demilitarisation. Echoing a similar political-technical division that had evolved during the peace process talks in Northern Ireland, the izquierda abertzale’s new ‘twin-track’ proposal was, in the words of Otegi, “very Irish”.70 Two months later, Zapatero gave his first tentative public indication that comprehensive talks could well be on the horizon. Continuing the Irish peace process analogies, Otegi implored the Spanish President to “go down in history as the Spanish Tony Blair”.71 In February 2005, Gerry Adams made his third public visit to the Basque Country. Officially there to promote his latest book, the Sinn Féin President held separate meetings in Vitoria-Gasteiz with Otegi and Lehendakari Ibarretxe. His trip also took in promotional visits to Madrid and Barcelona. As with previous appearances of this type, Adams encouraged dialogue between the Spanish Government and Basque representatives.72 In March, Eoin Ó Broin testified at the trial of several Basque youths facing up to 14 years in prison as part of the wider clampdown on the BIA. In the witness box, Ó Broin was questioned on the Basque youths’ supposed links with ETA. On the same day that Ó Broin was giving evidence in Madrid, a number of ‘Basque-Irish Committees’ held coordinated demonstrations in Dublin, Belfast, Cork, Galway and Derry.73 Speaking frankly at the Sinn Féin Ard Fheis that same month, Pernando Barrena highlighted the mounting police and juridical pressure experienced by the izquierda abertzale over the previous few years. He also thanked Sinn Féin for its ongoing solidarity before pledging his own party’s support in return: “The meaning of solidarity has more importance when difficulties arise. You know who your real friends are when support is needed”.74 For Barrena and his izquierda abertzale comrades, there would soon be a breakthrough.

258  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) In May 2005, a little over a year into the lifetime of the PSOE administration in Madrid, Zapatero made a bold political move. He would seek a parliamentary majority to formally begin dialogue with ETA if and when the organisation showed a “clear will” to give up violence. Having been briefed by Eguiguren on the progress of talks with Otegi and the likely prospect of an ETA ceasefire, Zapatero’s motion in parliament stated that “political questions must be resolved only through the legitimate representatives of the popular will”. This type of open-ended language not only reflected the broad principles agreed upon by Eguiguren and Otegi in Elgoibar, but it also arguably aligned with the BIA’s new internal consensus that had been affirmed in Udaberri Ponentzia and communicated by Otegi in San Sebastián. All stakeholders were now seemingly moving towards similar starting points. The backlash to Zapatero’s initiative was as severe as it was predictable. Already enraged by the PSOE’s supposed lax approach to ETA, President Zapatero’s decision to seek a mandate in parliament to begin dialogue was a red flag to the Partido Popular. Under the PP’s new leader Mariano Rajoy, the party voted against Zapatero’s proposal and accused him of “betraying the dead” and “surrendering parliament” to ETA. For his controversial approach to the Basque paramilitaries, Zapatero would have to get used to being vilified by the PP, victims’ groups and the right-wing Spanish media.75 Underlining the tough road ahead, before May had even ended, an ETA car bomb exploded in Madrid. Fortunately, no one was killed. Around the same time, Arnaldo Otegi was arrested on suspicion of being a member of ETA. He was later released, subject to restrictions of movement and a €400,000 bail bond.76 None of this augured well for the nascent process. Nonetheless, Zapatero gave consent for Eguiguren to commence discrete talks with ETA. On 21 June 2005, talks began at the Henri Dunant Centre for Humanitarian Dialogue (HD Centre) in Geneva, Switzerland. Mindful of the political storm that would ensue from any disclosure of the discussions, Eguiguren acted as a sort of semi-detached interlocutor for the Spanish Government. On the opposite side of the table sat Josu Ternera. This first round of talks lasted until 14 July. A second round of talks, again facilitated by the HD Centre, commenced in November in Oslo. During this session, a text was agreed upon, effectively setting out an agenda and methodology for the next stage of negotiations. While the government party was given assurances on the scope of ETA’s pending ceasefire, the latter was given commitments on the de facto legalisation of Batasuna, an easing of police and juridical pressure, and rather more vague promises of a future ‘Pacto de Estado’ (Pact of State) between PSOE and the PP. Such a pact would, theoretically, hold the Spanish body politic to the outcome of any potential agreement. For both sides, it was one thing to make such commitments (as genuine or as hollow as they may have been), abiding by them would be far more difficult. For example, in January 2006, Batasuna’s ban was extended for another two years. The following month, Arnaldo Otegi and Joseba Álvarez were

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  259 called before Spain’s National Court, accused of “glorifying terrorism”. All the while, ETA continued to carry out non-lethal attacks, intimidation and extortion activities.77 Trust between both sides was brittle to non-existent. Although an ETA ceasefire was seemingly on its way, the prospects of such a ceasefire holding or political talks achieving a new agreed political dispensation in the Basque Country looked far more precarious. High Hopes, Dead Ends (Part I)

On 28 July 2005, the IRA’s Army Council announced the formal end of its armed campaign. Consciously echoing the previous statements that had called a halt to the Irish Civil War in 1923 and Operation Harvest in 1962, all IRA units were ordered to “dump arms”. The statement continued: All volunteers have been instructed to assist the development of purely political and democratic programmes through exclusively peaceful means. Volunteers must not engage in any other activities whatsoever. The IRA leadership has also authorised our representative to engage with the IICD [Independent International Commission on Decommissioning] to complete the process to verifiably put its arms beyond use in a way which will further enhance public confidence and to conclude this as quickly as possible.78 Ever since the collapse of the Northern Ireland Assembly in 2002, the issue of IRA decommissioning had dogged any prospect of a return to the NIA at Stormont Castle, Belfast. Unionists, and in particular the Ian Paisley-­ led Democratic Unionist Party (DUP)—which had overtaken the UUP electorally—­ demanded assurances on the verification of IRA decommissioning before agreeing to enter the institutions. As anticipated in the IRA statement of 2005, this roadblock was eventually removed once the IICD completed its work. The following year, in October 2006, the signing of the St Andrew’s Agreement paved the way for the re-establishment of the NIA. As a direct result of the accord, signed in the Scottish town of Fife, Sinn Féin committed to supporting the Police Service of Northern Ireland. The DUP, for its part, agreed to share power with Sinn Féin.79 While the IRA statement of 2005 had helped to unblock the political process in Northern Ireland, it also said a lot about how the republican movement viewed its past, present and future. Unlike most IRA statements, it was not signed off by the fictitious P. O’Neill. Nor was it communicated by a masked induvial in military garb. On the contrary, it was calmly read out by a former IRA prisoner, Séanna “Breathnach” Walsh, in civilian clothes. Released under the terms of the GFA in November 1998, Walsh had, by that stage, spent 21 of the previous 25 years behind bars—more than half of the then 41-year-old’s life.80 Via Walsh, the internal message to the

260  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) republican movement was clear: The sacrifices of men and women such as Walsh had brought the IRM to a new phase. The war on the streets, which had been “entirely legitimate”, was now over, and a united Ireland must now be achieved by alternative means: We believe there is now an alternative way to achieve [a united Ireland] and to end British rule in our country. It is the responsibility of all volunteers to show leadership, determination and courage. We are very mindful of the sacrifices of our patriot dead, those who went to jail, volunteers, their families and the wider republican base. We reiterate our view that the armed struggle was entirely legitimate. We are conscious that many people suffered in the conflict. There is a compelling imperative on all sides to build a just and lasting peace.81 Whilst incarcerated, Walsh had been one of many Irish republicans who passed their solitary days away by learning Gaeilge in the ‘Jailtacht’—a pun on Gaeltacht. Released from prison, Walsh soon heard of Herri Batasuna’s eight-year transition (1992–2000) from a party that did all its statements, press conferences and other business through Spanish, to one in which everything could be conducted through the Basque language of Euskara, even if this was not always the case. Writing in An Phoblacht (which had dropped Republican News from its title in September 2005) and citing the HB example, Walsh encouraged his party comrades to achieve something similar in Sinn Féin. He remembers: We went over [to the Basque Country] […] We met with a whole series of the [Batasuna] leadership specifically on that topic [Spanishto-­Euskara transition] […] [Then], we brought a team of their main activists over here, to the North. We did a series of meetings around the North, but we weren’t able to crack it to the same extent that they had. It was something that I took on as a personal project, but we weren’t able to crack it. We generally have a good will in terms of the [Irish] language within the party, but in terms of the commitment, the time, the effort that’s put in to do what has to be done, unfortunately that hasn’t been there.82 In the same way that Walsh looked to the izquierda abertzale’s model of language advancement, the latter increasingly sought to learn from the experiences of republican ex-prisoners such as Walsh. In Belfast, advocates for Basque prisoners regularly visited the republican ex-prisoners committee Coiste na hIarmchí in the post-GFA era. According to the organisation’s director, Michael Culbert: We wanted to assist them. We gave them our information, our structures, our processes of trying to get things sorted, plus the explanation

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  261 from our perspective of how we were able to do it [set up Coiste na hIarmchí]. Culbert recalls that initial post-GFA contacts with Basque prisoner advocates were, at times, rather “disjointed”: “They didn’t have a central structure, there was no plan, there was no strategy […] It was all very unstructured, and I told them [that]”. In hindsight, however, Culbert cites what, in his view, was a significant disparity in the contexts in which Irish and Basque prisoner collectives were trying to advocate. For example, whereas Culbert and his comrades were able to gain limited access to EU funding: [W]hat we didn’t know was the absolute oppression [in the Basque Country]—that you could go to jail for ten years for supporting the prisoners … they found it very difficult to get legal representation, [even] legal people were being arrested.83 Irish republicanism was not the only international source of experience and advice for the BIA in the early- to mid-2000s. In 2003, a Batasuna delegation visited South Africa and met with the lawyer Brian Currin. Considered a leading specialist in prisoner issues in South Africa and Northern Ireland, Currin had been recommended to Batasuna by Sinn Féin. Speaking to the Basque delegation, Currin advised on how best to deal with approximately 700 Basque prisoners who were, at that time, dispersed throughout Spain and France. Over the following years, the South African would lend his expertise to Batasuna on negotiating strategies, introduce the Batasuna leadership cadre to prominent ANC figures, and serve, more generally, as an external voice for inclusive dialogue and political resolution in the Basque Country. Arising from these initiatives, Urko Aiartza, a leading izquierda abertzale political figure and former senator, developed a close working relationship with Currin and various ANC figures. Testimony to these connections, Aiartza, alongside Gerry Adams and others, formed a ‘guard of honour’ at the ANC’s homage to Nelson Mandela before his state funeral in 2013.84 ‘Outside’ figures such as Currin and Father Alec Reid won few friends in Madrid, where authorities tended to be extremely sensitive to what could be perceived as outside interference in Spanish internal matters. The academic Rogelio Alonso has been particularly scathing in his assessment of the two men’s knowledge of the issues at hand.85 Despite such criticism, Currin, Reid and other international actors were not to be dissuaded in their engagement with the emerging ‘Zapatero process’ (as I have dubbed it, in the absence of any established term). On 30 November 2005, Reid, Sinn Féin’s Bairbre de Brún (by then an MEP) and at least ten other MEPs attended the presentation of a document titled ‘Basic Democratic Agreement’ (BDA) at the European Parliament. Drafted by 53 Basque political and civil society organisations, the BDA

262  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) stated: “All citizens in the whole of the Basque Country must be consulted” on any political agreement that may be reached in future negotiations. According to a report in An Phoblacht, Reid had “played an important role as international observer in the process of reaching the BDA”. Representatives from Batasuna and EA voiced their approval for the initiative at the event. Following on from the BDA presentation, a ‘Basque Friendship Group’ of MEPs was established under the slogan ‘Towards a peace process in the Basque Country’.86 De Brún recollects how the Basque Friendship Group (BFG) came about: De Brún: Arising from [the BDA Conference], there was a discussion around how the EU could help. At that stage I was more a joining … I was more a ‘coming in’ [member], rather than the person who set it up … although I was a founding member. It was a combination of people who were already involved in supporting the Basques and people who were involved in supporting other groups in other countries, or who had had such experience. Between [us], [we] got together, formed the Friendship Group, and then talked to other people to see who would be willing to come in, come together. Author: OK, so was it an initiative that came about, almost organically, from those elements that you have mentioned? De Brún: A number of people, yeah, but obviously in discussion with people from the Basque Country … it wouldn’t have made any sense not to have had [discussions with people from the Basque Country].87 From 2002 to 2004, Gorka Elejabarrieta worked as a Brussels-based assistant to the Batasuna MEP Koldo Gorostiaga. In total, Elejabarrieta would spend close to a decade living in Brussels as a “member of the International team of Abertzale Left”. He recalls the connection between the BDA and the Friendship Group in the following way: In 2005, it was clear that we were building a momentum in the Basque Country in order to promote the peace process. And at that time there was a platform in the Basque Country which was called Oinarrizko Hitzarmen Demokratikoa (Basic Democratic Agreement) […] As a part of that group [BDA], some of us were appointed to go to the European Parliament and speak to different MEPs and discuss with them which could be the role of the European Parliament in promoting the resolution of the conflict. As a result of those conversations [that] we had with different MEPs, there was a public hearing in December [sic. 30 November] 2005 in the European Parliament. Father Alec Reid spoke at that hearing and some of the MEPs that were present said it would be a good idea to create a Friendship Group to promote the resolution of the conflict in the Basque Country.88

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  263 Given the provenance of the BFG, it is not surprising that the friendship group’s first public statement in December 2005 essentially aligned with the contents of the Basic Democratic Agreement and with what ETA and Batasuna were hoping to achieve from the current process of engagement with the Spanish Government: We share the idea that the solution entails recognition of all the individual and collective rights of everyone who lives anywhere in the [Basque] country, independently of whether they reside under the Spanish or French administrations. We believe that the only valid political solution will be one that develops out of the strengthening of democracy and justice so as to permit recognition of the Basque Country as a political subject and acceptance of the right of all the citizens of the Basque Country to decide on their future. We agree that a key to the resolution of the Basque conflict will be a multilateral agreement guaranteeing that all Basque people, anywhere in their country, shall be consulted about decisions involving their future in a manner agreed to by their social, political and union representatives. This will come about as the result of a process based on dialogue and negotiation, and in our view it is essential that such a political agreement, arrived at by democratic means, should be endorsed through referendum by the entire population of the Basque Country.89 Presumably unbeknownst to the Basque Friendship Group, two rounds of discrete talks had already taken place in Switzerland and Norway between Spanish Government and ETA interlocutors. Very soon, the full extent of the Zapatero process would be public knowledge. High Hopes, Dead Ends (Part II)

On 22 March 2006, ETA declared a “permanent ceasefire”. In a video sent to the Basque public TV company EITB, a hooded ETA militant, flanked by two others, directly addressed the Basque people: The objective of this decision is to promote a democratic process in Euskal Herria to build a new framework in which the rights that correspond to us as a People are recognised and ensuring, in the future, the possibility of developing all political options. At the end of this process, Basque citizens must have a say and decide on their future. The Spanish and French states must recognise the results of this democratic process, without any kind of limitations. The decision that we Basque citizens adopt regarding our future must be respected.90 In broad terms, ETA’s statement fitted within the political space that had developed out of the Otegi-Eguiguren talks, the Udaberri Ponentzia and the Basic Democratic Agreement: namely that all political possibilities should be

264  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) open-ended and subject to the internal consent of the Basque people without any external impediment. In other words, a framework similar in rhetoric to that of the Downing Street Declaration and Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement. Writing in The Guardian, Julen Madariaga, one of the ‘historic’ founders of Ekin and ETA, cited the “wonderful example” of the Irish peace process as “one from which we could benefit greatly”. Madariaga also called on President Zapatero to draw up a solemn declaration similar to the Good Friday Agreement in Britain, recognising that the Basque question is political in nature and not a matter for the military and police. As such, it requires a political solution, one that affects all Basque people, and he should declare that he will act in accordance with our sovereign will and that our decision—taken by a democratic majority—will be respected by both French and Spanish governments.91 For its part, Sinn Féin urged the Spanish President to respond to ETA’s ceasefire by “immediately initiating dialogue with the Basque political leadership and releasing all political prisoners”. The statement continued: Sinn Féin is committed to conflict resolution around the world and will offer any assistance it can. Years of experience, driving a difficult peace process, has put the party in a position to do so. Party President Gerry Adams has been in contact with all the Basque political parties, in particular Batasuna, and has written to Spanish Prime Minister Jose Luis Zapatero.92 In a role reversal of Sinn Féin’s attempt to apply pressure on President Zapatero, Batasuna was similarly eager to enrol the Irish Government’s assistance in the process, as referenced by Pernando Barrena in An Phoblacht: Apart from the help of the Republican Movement, the Irish Government could become an important point of reference to help in the advancement of the process. They have enough experience to be able to give advice to both sides. They could act as mediators or even as guarantors of future agreements. We intend to approach them and many other international agents that we consider could play an important role in this process of finding lasting solutions for the Basque Country.93 Although ETA’s March 2006 ceasefire was significant international news in its own right, the part that senior Irish republicans had ostensibly played in its materialisation was an additional ‘hook’ for the largely Anglophone international media. Alex Maskey, for instance, was described as an “architect” of the ceasefire. This is a description he flatly rejects: I think that our engagement and involvement there was positive. I am happy and content with that. I wouldn’t by any stretch [of the

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  265 imagination] go as far as saying we were ‘architects’, which we weren’t. None of us were. And that’s not being modest, that’s just being truthful. Gerry Kelly, a former IRA member turned Sinn Féin politician, was similarly credited in various quarters as being influential in ETA’s decision. Between the two men, Kelly and Maskey had reportedly visited the Basque Country up to a dozen times over the previous year. Father Alec Reid acknowledged that he had “played a role”.94 Most intriguingly, a source in The Boston Globe stated: As the Basque separatist group ETA prepared to make a videotape announcing an unconditional cease-fire, a stoic Irishman named Séanna Walsh was in the background, quietly offering encouragement and reassurance. As the reader will recall, this “stoic Irishman”, Walsh, had read out the IRA’s historic declaration the year before. What was Walsh’s exact role, if any, in ETA’s 2006 ceasefire declaration? Walsh: What actually happened was that we knew that the Basques were moving towards that ceasefire. A number of us were in the Basque Country, we were actually looking at how they were able to reverse the language decline […] So, we were actually over [in the Basque Country] looking at that [the language initiative], and the next thing you know, messages started coming through that the Basques are going to make a statement. And well ‘will you do the media with this?’, you know? And I said ‘I’ll talk to the media, but the story is not about us; the story is about the Basques, and that’s where you have to keep the focus’. And, so … basically, that’s about as much as I’ve got to say about that. The same article also credited “a lesser-known Sinn Fein strategist, Pat Rice, who spent the most time shuttling between Belfast and Bilbao promoting the idea that what worked for Irish nationalists could work for Basque nationalists”.95 Of final relevance to Sinn Féin’s involvement in and around ETA’s ceasefire of March 2006, Bairbre de Brún travelled to the Basque Country one week after the announcement as a representative of the Basque Friendship Group. Martin McGuinness also made the same trip, as a guest of Batasuna, at the beginning of June.96 As documented by Murua and Whitfield in their respective texts, from the very moment that ETA called its 2006 ceasefire, the Zapatero process constantly hovered on the edge of collapse as a result of ongoing ETA activities, juridical pressure on the izquierda abertzale and massive opposition from the PP.97 However, despite these considerable challenges and the many moving parts at play, two partially overlapping strands would eventually emerge. The first would centre on a new round of talks between the Spanish

266  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) Government and ETA interlocutors on technical issues. A second strand would see multilateral talks take place between representatives of PSE-EE, Batasuna and the PNV. In the meantime, President Zapatero made a landmark statement. Speaking just outside the Spanish Parliament in June 2006, Zapatero seemed to consent, in principle, to whatever political dispensation the Basque people decided among themselves in intra-Basque political negotiations. If Zapatero’s statement was supposed to be a sort of ‘Basque Downing Street Declaration’, it is fitting that, akin to the accord reached between London and Dublin in 1993, practically every stakeholder in the process interpreted the meaning and significance of Zapatero’s words differently.98 For ETA, Zapatero’s statement had fallen short. With the spectre of a return to violence on the horizon, Otegi and Eguiguren cut a deal to fasttrack the political phase of negotiations.99 Whether by accident or design, the ‘twin-track’ process envisaged by the BIA only a few years earlier had materialised, and the time was now. Intra-Basque political party talks commenced at the Jesuit monastery of Loiola in September 2006. By the end of October, after 11 meetings, a ‘preagreement’ was reached between the three represented parties, whose delegations were led by Jesús Eguiguren (PSE-EE), Iñigo Urkullu (PNV), and Arnaldo Otegi and Rufi Etxeberria (Batasuna) respectively. The Loiola ‘preagreement’ rested on two major concessions. While the Basque nationalists, including Batasuna, agreed to work within the existing juridical and constitutional framework of the Spanish State, PSE-EE accepted that all political options, which by extension included the possibility of Basque independence, could be implemented if a majority of Basques so desired. The three parties also agreed to develop a joint Basque-Navarrese body with evolving competencies. How this proposal could ever be realistically squared with the constitutional “indivisibility” of Spain or agreed with the PP via a Pact of State were issues seemingly better left for another day. For the moment, it was sufficient that the Loiola ‘pre-agreement’ would very likely pass through the Basque and Spanish parliaments with reasonably healthy majorities. Depending on the results of upcoming elections in Navarre, there was even a chance it could pass through the Navarrese regional parliament in Pamplona. In short, hopes were high that a significant breakthrough had been achieved.100 Meanwhile, in Strasbourg, where the EU Parliament periodically sits, issues around the Basque Country were being discussed at the heart of the European institutions for the first time in a generation. On 25 October 2006, after two days of intensive debate, the European Parliament passed a resolution that simultaneously supported “the peace initiative in the Basque Country undertaken by the Spanish democratic institutions within the framework of their exclusive competences” and “the fight against terrorism”. The resolution was passed by a slender majority of 321 to 311 (with 24 abstentions). Going against the grain of Spain’s long-held reluctance to draw attention to any aspect of Basque (or Catalan) nationalism whatsoever, the architect of

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  267 the 2006 EU resolution was none other than the Spanish Government itself. Through the votes of the Socialist, Liberal, Green, and European United Left/ Nordic Green Left blocs in the EU parliament, Zapatero’s government had won a narrow victory. This victory, however, was somewhat pyrrhic. Leading up to the vote, the PP had managed to mobilise practically every conservative force in the EU Parliament to vote against the resolution. Together, they had very nearly succeeded in delivering a major embarrassment to Zapatero’s government and, more than likely, a hammer blow to the nascent process. Speaking in the aftermath of the vote, Jaime Mayor Oreja, the former Spanish Minister of the Interior who was now a Partido Popular MEP, remarked: Today is a day of satisfaction for ETA and for Left Nationalists, who’ve now seen this vote divide Europeans, not just the Spanish people. ETA has always wanted to internationalise the conflict and today it has succeeded in doing so. Why had the Spanish Government dragged the Basque case into the debating chambers of the EU? There are two plausible answers to this question. The first is the rather benign explanation that the Spanish Government simply wanted the EU’s blessing as a way to further the process. The second, more cynical—but probably more accurate—explanation, as put forward by Teresa Whitfield, is that the Spanish Government’s deliberate internationalisation of its own controversial peace process served as a sort of pre-emptive political cover in the event of its collapse. In other words, if and when ETA broke its ceasefire, the entire international community would know that it was ETA’s fault, and theirs alone.101 Back in Loiola, PSE-EE, Batasuna and the PNV reconvened on 8 November 2006 to sign off on the ‘pre-agreement’. Suddenly, however, the Batasuna negotiators demanded significant changes to the protocol on Navarre. After weeks of negotiations, these demands were resisted by the other parties. To those present, it seemed apparent what had happened: ETA had torpedoed the deal and, in doing so, had reasserted its dominance over the BIA. As suggested by Murua, another possible factor at play was that although Otegi and Etxeberria were personally in favour of signing the ‘pre-agreement’, they had become reluctant to do so once it became clear to them that there was significant opposition within various sectors of the BIA, and not just from ETA. In other words, the two men’s desire to ensure the BIA’s internal movement cohesion had prevailed over what was an enticing, yet potentially perilous deal. Despite the party delegates meeting again on two further occasions, the Loiola negotiations broke down on 15 November 2006.102 The collapse of negotiations in Loiola was followed by a similar breakdown in the technical talks between the Spanish Government and ETA interlocutors in Oslo. Both sides parted ways on 14 December, leaving the entire process hanging by a thread. Nonetheless, speaking to reporters on

268  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) 29 December, President Zapatero was in buoyant mood. In words that will probably forever come back to haunt him, Zapatero confidently predicted that the situation with ETA would be “better than today” in a year from now. Within 24 hours, ETA had bombed the Terminal 4 car park of Madrid’s Barajas Airport (after a warning), collapsing three of its five floors. Two Ecuadorian workers that had been sleeping in their cars, Carlos Alonso and Diego Armando, were killed. In the wake of the attack, the Spanish Minister of the Interior, Alfredo Pérez Rubalcaba, promptly declared the process to be “broken, liquidated, and finished”. Over the following days, Otegi and others within Batasuna also made their displeasure with ETA publicly known, albeit in much more guarded terms.103 Barajas had shown that despite the promise of Udaberri Ponentzia, ETA still reserved the ‘final word’ within the Basque izquierda abertzale. Perhaps now, more than ever, Batasuna would need Sinn Féin’s help, not only in terms of solidarity and understanding of such ‘setbacks’, but also for one very final attempt at salvaging the entire process. Picking up the Pieces Did we all have private opinions of whether the ending of the ETA ceasefire with the bombing of Barajas was the right thing to do or not? Of course, we all had private opinions, but when we’re going to comment publicly, we think very hard about what’s helpful, and what’s helpful both to our friends, and what’s also helpful to the peace process. And undermining your friends—even if you don’t think what they’ve done is right—isn’t just a bad way to treat your friends but also undermines any attempts to rebuild a peace process. So, we have all of those views, we share all of those views, we’re very upfront with our friends when we’re talking to them privately, but we are also very careful that when we say things publicly … they’re helpful […] Do we have a rosetinted view of what our friends do or don’t do? No, we don’t. But are we going to jump up and down and advertise if and when we have criticism of them? Of course, we’re not. We’re going to exchange that [view] with them, as friends do, privately. You don’t go out and disrespect your friends publicly when they’re in a bad spot. You help them; you work with them—if that’s what they want you to do.104 (Author interview with Eoin Ó Broin) In the wake of ETA’s ceasefire collapse, the best laid plans of Otegi et al. appeared to be buried in the rubble of Barajas. Otegi was nonetheless resolute, affirming that the current process need not be over. Surprisingly for some, this was also a sentiment shared by President Zapatero, who, as well as utilising the British Government as a sounding board, continued to draw parallels with the Irish peace process.105

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  269 Following a meeting with Lehendakari Ibarretxe in January 2007, former Taoiseach Albert Reynolds also drew parallels between the current Basque situation and the fallout from the IRA’s London ‘Docklands bombing’ of 1996.106 In February, Reynolds held talks with Otegi and Barrena in Ireland—­the Basques having been invited by Sinn Féin. As well as discussing the present state of affairs with Reynolds, Otegi and Barrena met with senior Sinn Féin representatives and unionist community figures. Writing in An Phoblacht, Ó Broin explained his party’s rationale in inviting Otegi and Barrena so soon after the Barajas bombing: The party’s logic was simple. The Irish process collapsed in 1996 in similar circumstances [‘Docklands bombing’]. [British PM] John Major’s refusal to honour commitments made in previous negotiations supported by foot dragging from [Taoiseach John] Bruton’s ‘rainbow coalition’ undermined the conditions that brought the IRA’s 1994 cessation into being.107 Akin to Reynolds’ analysis, Ó Broin’s article effectively drew a case parallel between the breakdown of the IRA ceasefire in 1996 and ETA’s Barajas bombing in 2006. Others such as Paddy Woodworth have speculated that ETA’s attack “was almost certainly modelled” on the ‘Docklands bombing’ of 1996. If true, it would represent a straightforward case of IRA-to-ETA learning, or imitation. As briefly referenced in Chapter 6, it is difficult to gauge whether the ‘Docklands bombing’ actually represented a strategic success or not for the IRA. One republican source interviewed for this study expressed no doubt that the IRA’s London ‘Docklands’ (February) and Manchester (June) bombings of 1996—both of which specifically targeted British economic interests—had achieved more (“forcing Britain to negotiate”) than all the British security forces killed during the height of the “Troubles”.108 One wonders if a similar perception of the efficacy of the IRA’s attacks may have provoked ETA to ratchet up pressure on the Spanish Government in a similar manner. Indeed, at first glance, one could make the case that despite the severe immediate public backlash against ETA in the wake of Barajas, the organisation’s strategy (if this was, in fact, ETA’s strategy) had worked. By May 2007, the process was ostensibly back on track, with Spanish Government, Batasuna and ETA interlocutors discussing and debating its various aspects in Geneva. Both Gerry Adams and Tony Blair had seemingly been instrumental in convincing Zapatero to press ahead with one last effort.109 This time, however, according to Eguiguren, the process was already effectively “dead”—although it should be noted that Eguiguren’s account of what took place in Geneva varies considerably from Otegi’s. Unlike previous rounds of talks, the Basque and Spanish interlocutors were joined by several international observers, including two Sinn Féin

270  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) representatives, one of whom has been identified as Gerry Kelly, as well as observers from the Norwegian and British governments, including Britain’s Jonathan Powell.110 Akin to Kelly, the second Sinn Féin observer was likely to have been a senior republican who had built up relations with the Batasuna interlocutors (Otegi, Etxeberria) over the previous years. As is his prerogative, Alex Maskey would not confirm if he was the second Sinn Féin observer present in Geneva. He did, however, offer a broad analysis of the types of discussions that were taking place, around this time, during the process: Maskey: All I will say is that there were ongoing discussions, some more substantive than others … I’ll put it that way. Some of those discussions would have been very private […] Our remit would have always been advising what we did here [in Ireland]. Author: And in the context of those [Geneva] talks? Maskey: We [the two Sinn Féin observers—but not necessarily Maskey] would have been there as, not witnesses, but in a way, I suppose as having someone from outside, being almost like a third party. But at no time were we telling people from the Basque Country what to do.111 After both sides put forward proposals and counterproposals, the 2007 Geneva talks ran aground. In response to the impasse, the mediators formulated a draft proposal of their own. Their solution was largely based on the ‘pre-agreement’ of Loiola, albeit with a slightly more elaborate roadmap towards a possible future Basque-Navarrese entity. Echoing some of Sinn Féin’s demands to the British Government years previously, the izquierda abertzale interlocutors pushed for PSOE and its regional affiliates in the Basque Country and Navarre to become “persuaders” for Basque-Navarrese unity. At this point, Eguiguren—memorably for those involved—took to a chalkboard to suggest something more akin to an interparliamentary organ. Given the often-repeated description of Navarre as the ‘Basque Ulster’, it is somewhat ironic that Eguiguren subsequently criticised the Sinn Féin observers in Geneva on the basis that they “did not understand anything about the problem between Navarre and Euskadi”—a criticism that those on the receiving end would surely reject. As with the talks in Loiola, the lack of agreement on Navarre scuppered any chance of a comprehensive deal emerging. ETA decided to walk. On 22 May 2007, after four (non-consecutive) days of negotiations, the Spanish and Basque interlocutors, the HD Centre mediators and the international observers all parted ways for the final time.112 On 7 June 2007, ETA formally announced the end of its ceasefire. The Zapatero process had definitively come to an end. Reflecting on recent developments, Gerry Adams stated in An Phoblacht: Everyone who has been involved in attempting to get a viable peace process operating in the Basque Country is disappointed at the breakdown

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  271 in the process over recent months and today’s announcement from ETA ending its ceasefire. However, the lessons of the Irish Peace Process and indeed every conflict resolution process throughout the world tells us that it is now important to redouble efforts to put the process there back on track.113 As noble as Adams’ words were, there was little or no appetite for either side to “redouble efforts to put the process there back on track”. As Imanol Murua and Teresa Whitfield document in their respective authoritative texts, in the aftermath of the failed start-stop talks in Loiola, Oslo and Geneva, the political leadership of the BIA decided to embark on a new initiative that was as much about the movement’s internal power dynamics as it was about attempting to put pressure on the Spanish State to begin a new ‘process’. Besides, ETA and Batasuna had, by that stage, lost all hope that whatever was delivered in negotiations could realistically be implemented by a PSOE government in Madrid that was under constant attack from the PP and a coalition of victims’ organisations.114 Given Eguiguren’s depiction of a Spanish Government going through the motions in Geneva, it is tempting to conclude that the Barajas bombing of December 2006 had effectively killed off any serious notion within the PSOE administration that a deal could be reached or was even desirable. If the London ‘Docklands bombing’ of 1996 represented the IRA banging on the table, demanding that the British take the Irish peace process more seriously, then ETA’s Barajas attack, to borrow Imanol Murua’s analogy, had completely broken the table in half.115 Whatever genuine willingness the Spanish Government had harboured to reach a comprehensive agreement may well have evaporated on that fateful day in Madrid. ETA, it would seem, had overplayed its hand. Una de Cal y Otra de Arena (One of Lime and Another of Sand)

On 10 December 2006, members of the Dublin branch of the Basque Solidarity Committees (BSC) gathered together on Grafton Street, one of the Irish capital’s main thoroughfares: A Basque solidarity rally was hold [sic] in Dublin last Sunday […] It started with [a] Txalaparta [traditional Basque instrument] performance, followed by [a] Zanpantzar performance, 10 men in traditional costume, with another as the bear, led by a woman carrying the Basque flag. Supporters gathered around (40–50 people) and cheered them on. Supporters displayed a banner with the slogan “SELF-­ DETERMINATION FOR THE BASQUE COUNTRY” […] Many passers-by, both Irish and non-Irish (tourists and foreign workers), stopped to listen and watch, or to ask questions of supporters. Over 800 leaflets were given out explaining the cultural background to the performances and the historical and political background to the Basque struggle for self-determination. Many signatures were collected on petitions in favour of the involvement of [the] Spanish and French states in

272  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) a process of talks and negotiations accepting the rights of all Basques to decide their own future as the key to the resolution of the conflict […] Many of the supporters and performers met later that evening in a bar and enjoyed an evening of music and comradeship. The Dublin Irish Basque Committee is in the process of reorganising itself and this performance was an important first step.116 As the reader will recall, an Irish-Basque Committee was formed in Dublin around the time of the Burgos Trial in 1970 and was briefly revived in 1975. Another ‘Irish-Basque Solidarity Committee’ (or ‘Eire/Euskal Herria Solidarity Group’) seems to have been formed in February 1997 shortly before Eoin Ó Broin’s first visit to the Basque Country. As well as authoring the AP/RN ‘Aberri Eguna-Easter Rising’ article referred to in the previous chapter, the 1997 committee organised protests at the Spanish Embassy in Dublin and undertook a “solidarity visit to Long Kesh to meet with Irish prisoners”. The newly reorganised 2006 version of the Basque Solidarity Committees tended to be made up of Basque political activists living in Ireland, Irish political activists, including ‘mainstream’ pro-GFA and ‘dissident’ anti-GFA Irish republicans, as well as non-affiliated members of the general public.117 Over the years, committees were established in Dublin, Belfast, Galway, Cork, Limerick and Kerry. Although the BSCs were, stricto sensu, completely independent of any Irish political party, in the view of most of the dozen or so grassroots activists interviewed for this study who were involved in the committees, this was not always the case.118 The driving force behind the reorganisation of the Dublin branch in 2006 was Diarmuid Breatnach. Son of Deasún and brother of Lucilita, Diarmuid had worked in Britain since the early 1970s. Returning to Ireland in the mid-2000s, he was drawn to solidarity campaigns around Basque political issues: “There were a couple of Basques in Dublin who were supposed to be organising a Basque Solidarity Committee, but it never seemed to come to anything”.119 Following a talk given by an Askapena delegate in 2006, Breatnach and others began to coordinate and organise the Dublin BSC’s work. Although the committee was an independent body, it developed links with Askapena. On average, about ten public activities (e.g., pickets, stalls, culture nights, leaflets, collections) were arranged per year, with participation in the committee and its social milieu open to anybody who respected Basque self-determination.120 The other main BSC was located in Belfast. Its principal organiser was Arturo Villanueva, one of the Basque youth activists that had established connections with the cadre of young Irish republicans that would go on to form SFY. As part of the broad juridical process undertaken against sectors of the MLNV, Villanueva was imprisoned in 2001, accused of being a member of Jarrai. Remanded on bail and facing a lengthy sentence, he subsequently failed to appear at a court hearing in Madrid.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  273 In 2004, Villanueva turned up in Belfast. He would spend the next few years focusing most of his political activism on the development of the solidarity committees: We knew there was some sort of potential in Ireland to develop solidarity with the Basque Country. First, awareness, and then the people [would act] around that. On the one hand it was to give a chance to those who wanted to organise, and then to continue developing networks and get the word out there. Even I knew that one day I could be arrested, and I thought, well, if one day I am arrested, I hope I’ll be able to take advantage of that situation, to get more awareness about the Basque Country. So that was the basic goal. And then it was also related to the Basque people who were in a struggle. To let them know that they are not alone, and their voices are heard out there. Part of the Spanish State strategy is to build thick walls of censorship around the Basque Country … and we were trying to break those walls.121 In addition to his BSC activism, Villanueva hosted a Basque information radio show on local Belfast radio. He also produced a two-page monthly digest/press release titled ‘Basque News’ in coordination with Breatnach.122 Basque-Irish solidarity rallies and events in the mid-to-late 2000s often encompassed elements of the BSCs, Askapena, Ógra Shinn Féin, and others. For instance, in 2004, Askapena embarked on a month-long political tour around Ireland, which included a joint demonstration with ÓSF in Dublin. In May 2006, a Basque Week took place in Galway, organised by Ógra Shinn Féin with the help of the “Galway-Basque community”. Askapena also regularly coordinated activities with the Galway BSC. A more ambitious International Basque Solidarity Week began in 2007. This drew elements of ÓSF, the BSCs, the Basque community in Ireland, and visiting Askapena and radical youth activist sectors together on an annual basis.123 Running parallel to the ad hoc transnational network of grassroots activists that straddled the BSCs, Askapena and others, more formal organisationto-organisation relations continued at youth level between ÓSF and Segi, despite the latter’s juridical and police constraints. In addition to the glut of Ógra Shinn Féin pickets and solidarity rallies held in Ireland that could be referred to here, ÓSF also participated in an international meeting hosted by Segi in 2004, visited the Basque Country in 2005, and in 2007 sent another 20-strong delegation to show support for our Basque youth comrades in Segi who are currently deemed a ‘terrorist’ organisation, and whose former leadership is in jail. We want them to know that their plight is remembered in Ireland and that we will campaign against the constant repression.124

274  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) Instead of travelling to the Basque Country “to show support” for their Basque comrades, Ógra Shinn Féin and other Irish grassroots republican activists, including the BSCs, would soon become party to the defence of two Basque individuals on Irish soil: one was the relatively low-key Villanueva; the other was Iñaki de Juana Chaos, a man with a much more notorious profile. Flicking through their morning newspapers on 18 November 2008, many Irish readers would have had their first introduction to Iñaki de Juana Chaos, whose stern-looking image appeared in the Irish Independent and Belfast Telegraph. Surrounded by photographers, de Juana Chaos had arrived at a Belfast court on foot of a European arrest warrant the day before. For most Spanish people, however, the identity of de Juana Chaos needed (and needs) little explanation. In 1987, Iñaki de Juana Chaos was convicted of killing 25 people whilst leader of ETA’s cell in Madrid. He was sentenced to 3,129 years in prison.125 As a consequence of fixed prison term limits and remission for good behaviour, 18 years after receiving his sentence, de Juana Chaos was set to be released. In Spain, a political storm ensued. Further charges were subsequently brought against the ETA militant (and later, a conviction) for allegedly making threats in two articles. In response to these developments, de Juana Chaos began the first of three hunger strikes, the second lasting 114 days, during which time he was force-fed and close to death. De Juana Chaos was eventually released from prison on 2 August 2008. The drama did not end there, however. Within days of his release, de Juana Chaos was accused of having penned a letter read out at his public homecoming in which the expression “Aurrera bolie!” (Forward with the ball!—a sort of grito de guerra, or cry of war in radical Basque nationalist culture) was used. A Spanish court began to investigate whether the use of this phrase may have amounted to an incitement of violence. De Juana Chaos, who was absent from the event in question, rejected any suggestion that he had written the letter. The following month, on 24 September 2008, news first broke of a Spanish request to Interpol for de Juana Chaos’ arrest. By that stage, the ETA militant was in Ireland. Between arriving in early August and the Interpol request, de Juana Chaos had sought a new passport at the Spanish Embassy in Dublin. The contact address he gave to the embassy and that which subsequently appeared on the Interpol communication, however, happened to be the residence of the partner of James Monaghan—the same James Monaghan of the ‘Colombia 3’ and, according to Domínguez, one of the IRA’s long-standing interlocutors with ETA. De Juana Chaos insisted that he had never met Monaghan. Instead, he had simply received the address from a Basque friend who had spent time on an Irish language course with the owner of the house.126 Either way, the optics

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  275 did not look good for Sinn Féin. A republican source recalls the sudden arrival of de Juana Chaos: Well … Iñaki, it was agreed to take him for a month. And then things went wrong. He hoped to move on to a third country. He applied for a passport, but he wasn’t given one, so the commitment continued […] He couldn’t go on anywhere else, and of course, we accepted that he was here and [we] had to do what we could to look after him.127 Spain’s formal extradition process against de Juana Chaos began in October 2008. The following March a Belfast court decided that he was eligible for extradition. De Juana Chaos was subsequently released on parole while a case could be prepared to contest the charges.128 Two weeks later, an interview with de Juana Chaos, conducted by Paddy Woodworth, was published in the Irish Times. According to Pat Rice: We were against him doing the interview. He wanted to justify himself […] The interview wasn’t too bad. It was like the vicar’s egg; it was good in parts, but the headlines were, of course, very bad [“Basque pariah in exile”]. And we didn’t want to draw attention. It wasn’t favourable to us, the situation with Iñaki … what he thought it [the interview] was gonna do for him … that he was gonna be able to tell his part of the story?... That was never gonna happen.129 Exactly three weeks after de Juana Chaos’ interview was published in the Irish Times, Arturo Villanueva was arrested in Belfast in connection with the outstanding charges against him in Spain. Unlike de Juana Chaos, Villanueva was, to all intents and purposes, completely unknown. Still, it did not take long for the two Basque cases to become conjoined, not only in the media but also in the solidarity campaign that was launched soon after in Belfast: ‘Don’t Extradite the Basques’.130 At the heart of the ‘Don’t Extradite the Basques’ campaign was a young Sinn Féin activist who had recently moved to Belfast. Working alongside Villanueva, this activist organised pickets, an online petition and funding nights to drum up support. High-profile republicans such as Danny Morrison and Bairbre de Brún also lent their voices to the campaign.131 While publicly, there was a united front in support of the two Basques in republican Belfast, one anonymous source close to the campaign has suggested that, more privately, “it was becoming more and more difficult for Sinn Féin to support the situation—although they did”. This was apparently “because of Iñaki’s case … Sinn Féin didn’t know how much he was hated in Spain”.132 According to the same source, the Belfast BSC was instructed from the Basque Country to rein in its activities out of fear that the wider BIA-IRM relationship could be put in jeopardy by de Juana Chaos’ travails. It should

276  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) be noted that other sources close to the ‘Don’t Extradite the Basques’ campaign rejected this thesis. In February 2010, the Belfast High Court upheld a previous judicial decision to deny Spain’s extradition request of Villanueva.133 De Juana Chaos would have to wait a little longer to discover his fate. On 1 March 2010, a Belfast judge finally approved the extradition of Iñaki de Juana Chaos to Spain. His defence team were given seven days to appeal. On 25 March, a day before his case was once again due in court, de Juana Chaos reported to the police as usual. Unbeknownst to the Northern Irish authorities, this would be the last time they would see the ETA militant. At the end of April, a prosecution lawyer for the Spanish State told the Belfast High Court that the police had been unable to locate the whereabouts of de Juana Chaos for more than a month. The lawyer concluded by stating what most people already assumed: “There is good reason to believe that he may have fled the jurisdiction”.134 Ending ETA A new political era is opening up in Euskal Herria. We are facing a historic opportunity to find a just and democratic solution to the secular political conflict. In the face of violence and repression, dialogue and agreement must characterise the new cycle. The recognition of Euskal Herria and respect for the popular will must prevail over imposition. This is the wish of the majority of Basque citizens. Years of long struggle has created this opportunity. It has not been an easy road. The harshness of the struggle has taken many comrades away forever. Others are suffering imprisonment or exile. To them our recognition and our most heartfelt tribute. The road ahead will not be easy either. In the face of the imposition that still persists, each step, each achievement, will be the fruit of the effort and the struggle of the Basque citizenship. Throughout these years, Euskal Herria has accumulated the necessary experience and strength to face this path and it also has the determination to do so. It is time to look to the future with hope. It is also time to act with responsibility and courage. For all these reasons, ETA has decided to definitively cease its armed activity.135 (ETA Declaration, October 2011) In October 2011, four years after the final round of negotiations took place in Geneva between ETA, Batasuna and Spanish Government interlocutors, the Basque paramilitaries called a definitive ceasefire. What had happened in the intervening period? Why had ETA ‘ended’? Akin to a similar question posed in Chapter 5 concerning the IRA, it is worth briefly outlining the main academic views in this respect, as it speaks to whether the accumulative weight of radical Basque nationalist–Irish republican relations may have partly lent itself to ETA’s historic decision (see ‘An Accumulative Influence?’ below). As the reader will recall, this supplementary inquiry was earmarked in the introduction to Chapter 1.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  277 The first school of thought regarding the end of ETA is quite straightforward. ETA’s demise was, in the words of Diego Muro, a “clear case of defeat”, of which “[t]he counter-terrorist effort was the main explanatory variable”. Similarly, as its title suggests, Florencio Domínguez’s La agonía de ETA stresses the relentless asphyxiating pressure applied to the organisation in its twilight years by Spanish and French security forces.136 From a markedly different perspective, Julen Zabalo and Mikel Saratxo conclude that when ETA finally accepted the reality that its two principal strategic aims had failed (negotiating with the Spanish State; the creation of a Basque pan-nationalist front), the organisation subsequently made a pragmatic decision to end its armed activities and explore new political opportunities. As an additional factor, the co-authors highlight ETA’s mounting difficulty in justifying its armed actions as a means to these ends.137 Continuing with the same theme, several commentators have judged the steady, decades-long fall in public support for ETA as fatally undermining the organisation. Although it is impossible to accurately gauge levels of support for ETA during the dictatorship, it is generally accepted by historians and analysts that the Basque paramilitaries enjoyed a not-insignificant degree of sympathy and encouragement among the Basque population, if not necessarily their open and active backing.138 What can be backed by data is a gradual depreciation in public attitudes towards ETA as the Transition progressed and the new apparatus of Basque autonomous government bedded down. For example, in 1978, 48% of the Basque public considered ETA to be either ‘Patriots’ (13%) or ‘Idealists’ (35%), whilst 18% described the group as either ‘Lunatics’ (11%) or ‘Criminals’ (7%). Eleven years later, in 1989, the first bracket of respondents had fallen to 23% (‘Patriots’ 5%; ‘Idealists’ 18%). Conversely, 32% of Basques now viewed the paramilitaries as either ‘Lunatics’ (16%) or ‘Criminals’ (16%).139 This trajectory accelerated in the 1990s when mass mobilisations against ETA’s violence, principally organised by groups such as Gesto por la Paz (Gesture for Peace) and ¡Basta Ya! (Enough Already!), began to openly challenge the paramilitaries.140 And while external criticism of this type may have consolidated izquierda abertzale support for ETA in the short term, even this layer of internal BIA support was not necessarily guaranteed to continue ad infinitum. It is to this internal social movement factor that we now turn. As Murua comprehensively documents in Ending ETA’s Armed Campaign, in the wake of the failed Zapatero process, a deep, extensive process of grassroots consultation took place across the entire izquierda abertzale spectrum regarding the strategic direction of radical Basque nationalism. Two proposals emerged: Argitzen, which was endorsed by the likes of Otegi, Barrena and Etxeberria, as well as the influential Basque daily GARA; and Mugarri, which ETA supported. The BIA ‘politicos’ argued that in order for the izquierda abertzale to succeed in its objectives, it needed to “confront the state on its weak point, the political terrain”. This would require a completely democratic and non-violent accumulation of forces. In other words, it would require a strategy sans ETA.141

278  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) Although not couched in these terms, the consultation process effectively amounted to a plebiscite on ETA and its utility as an armed vanguard of a political movement in the twenty-first century. The result was conclusive. After an intensive internal debate, Argitzen was backed by approximately 80% of more than 7,000 activists involved in the consultation process.142 Support for ETA’s heretofore dominant position as an armed vanguard of the movement had evidently vanished from within its own political community. ETA was now essentially being asked to rescind the last of its agency by a democratic majority of its constituency. It could refuse, provoke a huge rift in the movement and face the ignominy of carrying on an increasingly self-defeating campaign bereft of all but the most hardcore of supporters. Alternatively, it could accede to the mandate of the movement and, as it would later claim in 2018, “dissolve back into the people”.143 ETA chose the latter. Teresa Whitfield highlights an additional factor at play in the ‘ending’ of ETA: the “limited but essential assistance [played] by international actors”.144 In this schema, the international community provided a kind of soft ‘landing strip’ for the paramilitaries. For instance, the endorsement of the Mitchell Principles in November 2009 by pro-Argitzen activists effectively made ETA and its process of winding down accountable to the international community, as opposed to Madrid. The ‘Brussels Declaration’ of spring 2010 transmitted the same message.145 Even ETA’s definitive ceasefire of October 2011 was framed as a direct response to a request made by the group of international figures that gathered at the Palace of Aiete in San Sebastián. As we shall see in the first-hand remarks of some of those who were involved in the Aiete conference, participants tended to work off the rationale that ‘ending’ ETA intact, as a whole, and with the promise of a new “historic opportunity” (as referred to in ETA’s 2011 statement) on the horizon, was much more preferable to a completely demoralised and humiliated ETA, liable to split and still heavily armed. Finally, marrying the above external and internal pressures on ETA, Ludger Mees has used the metaphor of an “externally induced suicide” to explain the organisation’s ceasefire and subsequent dissolution.146 All Roads Lead to Aiete

The Loiola pre-agreement broke down and then went to Geneva. During that whole period, we had, and counted on, direct support from the republican movement, from Sinn Féin and from people from the republican movement who participated in the negotiation process there. And we had [their] total, total support [...] In that phase, in that process of Loiola and Geneva, the relationship that we had with the republican representation was very intense, very, very, very intense. That [Loiola and Geneva] process was broken and later, the relationship [with the republican movement] was maintained with a lot of intensity.147 As the above quote from Rufi Etxeberria makes crystal clear, following the collapse of the Geneva talks in May 2007, the “intense” relationship between

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  279 the leadership cadre of Batasuna and Sinn Féin remained intact; as did BIA communications with various international mediation figures.148 Speaking to this author, Etxeberria also reflected on an internal BIA debate that he believed had been left pending “sobre la mesa” (on the table) in 2007: [Regarding] the process of Loiola and Geneva, the nationalist left faced that negotiating process without having previously debated and decided on what strategy we should follow. So we arrived at Loiola and Lizarra [Note: It is my understanding that Etxeberria intended to say “Ginebra” (Geneva) as opposed to “Lizarra”] with an open debate and with different positions on the armed struggle, on the negotiation process, very important issues that later had the consequences they had.149 In a comparative study of the Irish and Basque peace processes, the academic Philippe Duhart has pointed out a similar organisational and strategic weakness in the izquierda abertzale’s approach. As well as “movement decentralization [creating] persistent coordination problems between wings”, ETA’s unilateral actions constantly undermined the credibility of BIA political representatives during negotiations. Conversely, for Duhart, it was the tight “inter-organisational centralization” of the Irish republican movement that gave Sinn Féin its strength and cache. Imanol Murua draws a similar contrast between the BIA and IRM in this respect.150 In the aftermath of the failed Zapatero process, Otegi, Etxeberria and other leading BIA political representatives finally confronted the issue (“on the table”) around the movement’s strategic direction. This would naturally have implications regarding the power dynamics within the BIA and, by extension, run the risk of a damaging split. According to Murua, post-2007, the overriding concern of the leadership cadre around Otegi was to avoid such an outcome. As documented at length throughout Ed Moloney’s A Secret History of the IRA, the same concern had dominated Adams’ strategising in the republican movement for over a decade. Former Taoiseach Bertie Ahern, who witnessed this process at close quarters, concurs: I think [the Adams and McGuinness] strategy all the time was to try and carry the movement with them. Carry the political movement and develop the political movement but not lose the people who had fought the war and to keep them onside.151 It is with this thought in mind that we should primarily approach the radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican nexus from the summer of 2007 to the end of 2011. In other words, the main frame of the BIA-IRM nexus became more akin to a ‘Sinn Féin Mirror’ (how to avoid an internal movement split) than the previous ‘Irish Mirror’ (advocating for Basque self-determination/ negotiations with Spain). In as much as the primary sources permit,

280  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) the following descriptive account of the 2007 to 2011 process shall be interspersed with relevant references to the BIA-IRM nexus. Within weeks of the breakdown of talks in Geneva in May 2007, Arnaldo Otegi was back behind bars, accused of being an apologist for terrorism. In October, he was joined by almost the entire political leadership of the izquierda abertzale.152 Pernando Barrena, one of the few BIA political leaders not in jail at that moment, visited Otegi in Martutene Prison on 5 October, accompanied by Bairbre de Brún and Pat Rice. According to a spokesperson for Sinn Féin, de Brún and Rice’s presence was at “the request of the Basque party Batasuna”. The spokesperson continued: We have argued for some time that the banning of Batasuna and jailing of its political representatives is not conducive to the successful advancement of a peace process in the region. All legal restrictions against Batasuna should be lifted.153 With increased juridical pressure across the movement, coupled with the missed opportunity of the Zapatero process, morale was extremely low.154 Otegi was released from prison in September 2008. Although careful not to sow divisions in the fragile movement, he publicly voiced the need for a new “effective strategy”. Supported by the likes of Antxon and Rafa Díez, the latter a leading figure in Langile Abertzaleen Batzordeak (Basque Patriotic Workers Commissions), Otegi’s coded message began to gain traction. Across late 2008 and early 2009, the internal debate regarding the BIA’s strategic direction (political-military or exclusively political) got underway, encompassing all components of the movement.155 Precisely halfway through the consultation process, the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) upheld Spain’s illegalisation of Batasuna.156 For the Spanish judiciary, the ECHR ruling provided vindication for the hard line that it had taken in dealing with radical Basque nationalism. Naturally, for the izquierda abertzale, the judgement was yet another significant setback. Things got worse before they got better. In October 2009, Arnaldo Otegi was arrested again, this time, on charges of attempting to rebuild Batasuna.157 The subsequent ‘Bateragune case’ underlined the multi-layered difficulties that the BIA ‘politicos’ faced. As well as trying to outmanoeuvre ETA, execute a strategic shift and prevent a damaging split, Otegi et  al. also had to deal with a Spanish judiciary that many consider politicised towards the Spanish right.158 With or without Otegi, the internal consultation would have to carry on. By November, it had reached a fork in the road. On 14 November 2009, in the small Navarrese town of Altsasu, about a hundred people claiming to represent the izquierda abertzale endorsed the ‘Altsasu Declaration’. This declaration effectively affirmed the movement’s adherence to the Mitchell Principles of the Irish peace process. Simultaneously, an international launch took place at an event in the Italian city of Venice, attended by Raymond McCartney, a Sinn Féin representative and former IRA hunger striker.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  281 Adherence to the declaration and the implications of such a commitment around the non-use of political violence did not go unchallenged. In fact, as Murua documents, it triggered a pointed moment of tension between the Argitzen and Mugarri factions.159 By February 2010, however, the internal debate had finally concluded. Argitzen was confirmed as the new strategy. In early March, a letter penned by Arnaldo Otegi was read out by Katalin Madariaga at the Sinn Féin Ard Fheis. Otegi’s letter specifically referenced the influence of Irish “lessons” in the recently concluded consultation process: As you know the Abertzale Left have during recent months been involved in debating and defining the most effective strategy to advance our goal of national independence. In this debate the lessons of the Irish Peace Process have been very useful. The need for change to be brought about through a democratic process; a commitment to exclusively peaceful and political means; and the need for a process of dialogue and negotiation between all political forces governed by the Mitchell Principles—these are all taken from the road map laid out by Irish republicans over the past 16 years and more.160

Figure 7.1 ‘The Pathway to Peace: Pake Bidean. Free Otegi’. A mural of Arnaldo Otegi on the ‘International Wall’ in Belfast, circa 2013. Photograph courtesy of Extramural Activity (extramuralactivity.com)

282  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) For all the talk of road maps to peace, dialogue and the Mitchell Principles, ETA was not done yet. On 16 March 2010, the group claimed its final mortal victim when Jean-Serge Nérin, a French police sergeant, was shot dead on the outskirts of Paris in a “shoot-out” with ETA members at a checkpoint.161 Despite (or perhaps owing to) the killing of Nérin, momentum behind the new political initiative continued to gather. In June 2010, a strategic partnership was agreed between leading political figures of the izquierda abertzale and Eusko Alkartasuna.162 The BIA’s alliance with the moderately nationalist and social democratic EA hinted at a potential future accumulation of Basque ‘abertzale’ forces in the permanent absence of ETA. By the autumn of 2010, ETA was finally ready to make a move. On 5 September, the organisation released a ceasefire statement, albeit one that was neither permanent nor definitive. “[A]t the request of the Abertzale Left”, Bairbre de Brún and Alex Maskey travelled to the Basque Country shortly afterwards for a number of political engagements and meetings.163 De Brún recalls being asked by a sceptical Basque whether the Sinn Féin representatives genuinely thought that “this thing [ETA’s ceasefire] was real?” De Brún responded: “If we didn’t think it was real, we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be wasting our time coming here and talking to you, thinking, well, this is going to fall apart”.164 Although the wording in ETA’s 2010 ceasefire statement left room for the paramilitaries to manoeuvre, a return to sustained violence—a “falling apart” of the process, to borrow de Brún’s expression— seemed less likely by the day. Without its social movement support, ETA simply had nowhere left to go. Reacting to the 2010 ceasefire in a piece published in The Guardian, Gerry Adams referenced the “impressive internal process of strategy formulation [that] took place among Basque parties, trade unionists and political activists” in reaching this scenario. He also spoke of his party’s involvement in recent years: This dialogue also involved senior Sinn Féin representatives, including myself. Sometimes the discussions were held in the Basque Country, sometimes in Belfast, and on a number of occasions in recent years Sinn Féin representatives travelled to Geneva for meetings with Basque representatives. Many in the Basque Country look to the Irish peace process for inspiration, and much of what has been attempted there in the last decade has been modelled on our experience.165 In January 2011, ETA called another ceasefire, effectively updating the 2010 statement to “permanent and general”, and “verifiable by the International Community”. Writing in The Independent this time, Adams implored Spain to release Arnaldo Otegi.166 Although Otegi remained mired in personal legal difficulties, there was better news for the wider izquierda abertzale on the judicial front.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  283 On 5 May 2011, the Spanish Constitutional Court reversed an earlier decision by the Supreme Court forbidding Sortu, the latest political component of the BIA, to participate in elections as part of a new political coalition named Bildu (Gather). With the ban lifted, the BIA’s new strategy could be tested at the ballot box. On 22 May, Bildu received a stunning 26% of the popular vote in Basque provincial elections.167 It was a ringing endorsement of the izquierda abertzale’s strategic shift. In late June, Otegi appeared in court in relation to the Bateragune case. During his defence, he publicly rejected “armed struggle” and referred to ETA as a “hindrance”. However, prosecutors pointed to seized documents which purported to show that Otegi had, in fact, been following ETA’s orders all along in fermenting a new political initiative. After a long, drawn-out process, Otegi was eventually convicted and sentenced to ten years in prison (later reduced to six) in September 2011. A joint statement issued by Gerry Kelly, Alex Maskey and Bairbre de Brún condemned the conviction of the izquierda abertzale leader, whose credentials as a peacemaker were said to be “unchallengeable”.168 As Otegi’s case was in progress, in the background, a sort of ‘road map’ towards ETA’s eventual ‘ending’ was apparently being arranged by various Basque political actors, the political leadership cadre of the izquierda abertzale, international figures, Lokarri (successor to Elkarri), and elements of the Spanish Government itself. While the minutia of this ‘road map’ remain opaque and contested, by the end of September 2011, everybody was seemingly on the same page.169 ETA’s “permanent” and “definitive” ceasefire would come in October, in the aftermath of an international conference to be held at the Aiete Palace in San Sebastián. Bertie Ahern, who “had been working away quietly since 2008 with Jonathan Powell and Alec Reid” on aspects of the Basque process, gives his recollections on the lead-up to Aiete: Jonathan [Powell] was dealing directly with [the Spanish Government] in the period up to [the Aiete conference]. They knew what we were up to. They knew we were involved. They weren’t going to come out and support us, but of course, they were aware of it. They weren’t going to meet us, but they didn’t do anything to make things difficult for us either, which they could have done.170 Despite the stand-off approach of the PSOE government, which was facing a daunting Spanish General Election on 20 November, an arrangement was apparently reached whereby outstanding technical issues related to prisoners and decommissioning would be dealt with after ETA’s declaration.171 However, considering the collapse of the Zapatero process and the vehement

284  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) opposition of the opposition PP to any sort of dealings with ETA, this arrangement was kept private. In the view of Jonathan Powell: I think [the Aiete Declaration] was a success for the socialist government, but because of the way the socialist government approached the negotiations, they got very little credit for it. Because they were so busy trying to hide the negotiation from the public and pretend it hadn’t really happened, they got nothing for it. And I suppose that’s not surprising given the attitudes of the Spanish public in general, and socialist voters in particular—it’s not surprising I suppose [that] they tried to hide it, because you had the failed negotiations of 2006.172 Given the apparent technical arrangement made with the Spanish Government and the choreographed spectacle of ETA’s response to the international guests’ request for the paramilitaries to call a definitive ceasefire, Whitfield’s description of the ending of ETA as including “an element of theatre” would seem entirely apt. Likewise, Bertie Ahern, who read out the international group’s request to ETA at the Aiete conference, has described the back-andforth communications as “pre-cooked”.173 Yet, for all its careful stage management, which no doubt greatly upset ETA’s victims, those who organised and participated in the conference at Aiete highlight a pragmatic rationale for facilitating ETA’s demise on the international stage. Simply put, for those involved, it was a means of ensuring that the organisation would definitively and definitely end without the possibility of a dangerous split.174 In the words of Gorka Espiau: Aiete was just a representation of a decision [i.e., the internal movement decision] that had been taken two years before. So, what we did to help [was] setting up the scene for ETA to stop … we knew exactly what we were doing.175 Considering ETA’s stated objectives and weighing these against its advances, it is difficult to argue with Richard English’s conclusion that ETA’s armed campaign was, by any objective measure, a failure. Despite ETA’s evident shortcomings, however, the reference to a “historic opportunity” in the organisation’s ceasefire declaration, which “years of long struggle” had “created”, transmitted the idea that a new political vista had come about precisely as a result of the actions and sacrifices that had gone beforehand. In this sense, ETA’s 2011 statement was uncannily similar to the IRA declaration of 2005.176 Bertie Ahern underscores the importance of internal movement optics in both cases: [The izquierda abertzale] presented it, as Sinn Féin did in the North, you know, kind of like, ‘we won; the others lost’. But in fairness to [the izquierda abertzale], and in fairness to any group that’s been involved

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  285 in conflict, and in particular violent conflict … to pull their people in, the strategists and the men and women who give leadership, they have to present that, you know: ‘certainly, we weren’t defeated; we’ve suffered a lot; we can’t let down those who’ve suffered, the people who have died, their families and the people who are in prison’. So, therefore, [they] have to present whatever it is in the best light to try and say: ‘well, now, we have achieved all of this; we didn’t get everything, and now we see another plan of how we can get [what we want]’. It isn’t blind loyalty; it’s more a kind of necessity to rein in the troops.177 “Rein[ing] in the troops”, a euphemism for neutralising the hardliners and dissenters whilst maintaining a controlling majority, is precisely what Gerry Adams and his ‘kitchen cabinet’ had skilfully managed to do in the Irish case. Perhaps Adams, more than any of the international guests present at the Aiete conference, understood the importance of the BIA projecting the narrative of a movement that was still united and with a sense of forward momentum. The difference in both cases, however, was that while the Basque izquierda abertzale and the Irish republican movement both presented the end of their respective armed struggles in as favourable a light as possible, there was a clear distinction in terms of what the military components of ETA and the IRA had accumulated, or what they could reasonably argue had been ‘achieved’. As Ahern himself acknowledges: They’ve been doing that successfully enough in the Basque case [‘reining in the troops’], but as I see it, the problem is they don’t have big cards to show […] [The republican movement] have things to show, and I think this is where the Basques [in this instance, meaning the BIA] are a long way short … they don’t …178 An Accumulative Influence?

What of the republican movement’s accumulative influence, or lack thereof, in the process that led to ETA’s 2011 ceasefire? As I have outlined, there are at least five (partly) overlapping factors that academics and commentators have put forward in explaining ETA’s ‘ending’: defeat; absence of public support; collapse of social movement support; rational choice, and international facilitation. Regarding the ‘defeat’ and ‘absence of public support’ hypotheses, there is little credibility in any suggestion that radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations contributed to these factors. Rather, it is in the areas of ‘international facilitation’ and in the interlinked hypotheses of ‘collapse of social movement support’ and ‘rational choice’ in which one could claim that the Irish republican movement may have played a role in facilitating the ‘ending’ of ETA. I will briefly examine this proposition.

286  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) As we have seen, Sinn Féin politicians such as Alex Maskey and Bairbre de Brún made several visits to the Basque Country in 2007 and 2008, just as the BIA was beginning its tumultuous 2007-to-2011 transitional period. Citing an interview conducted with a “Batasuna lawyer” in 2011, Teresa Whitfield states that Adams also “sent” Eoin Ó Broin and Gerry Kelly “to discuss the need for change within the nationalist left”.179 While this would appear, a priori, to be stretching the reality of Sinn Féin engagement in the BIA’s internal processes, it highlights the difficulty in discerning the true depth and type of communications between BIA and IRM figures at this juncture. According to a reliable source interviewed for this study, in addition to BIA-IRM contacts at a party-political level, senior Irish republicans also engaged in private talks at a second, more underground level throughout this period; that is to say, with ETA itself. Another interviewee, Séanna “Breathnach” Walsh, confirmed that “in terms of the IRA at a senior level, there was certainly senior people [who] sat down with the Basques”. It should be noted that the exact timeframe Walsh was referring to was not entirely clear.180 Separately, and corroborating the above anonymous source, it has been suggested that both the IRA and UVF held discussions with ETA about how to move away from violence.181 Although details are sketchy and will probably remain so, that this channel almost certainly existed is not surprising. In the same way that the political leadership of the BIA utilised Sinn Féin as a sounding board on aspects of its movement’s strategic shift, it would have made sense for figures in ETA to do likewise with the IRA and/or possibly with senior Sinn Féin figures. It is also the case that, until recently, historical dual membership at the highest echelons of the IRA and Sinn Féin has been taken as a given. In this sense, a channel of communication between ETA and the IRA may well have been only one small step removed from the party-political relationship. One senior republican with personal experience of the radical Basque nationalist leadership offered his opinion on what he understood to have been the overriding concern of his Basque comrades at this precarious juncture: movement cohesion. Whenever it came to the second ceasefire [2011], they actually started at a lower ebb than they did in 2006. Now maybe they needed the extra five years to ensure that the majority of their former armed activists were on board for the project … they obviously felt that they hadn’t the support to maintain the cohesiveness [in 2006], you know? Internal cohesion is the key in all of this, and if you don’t have that, well then, you ain’t got anything. Your organisation will splinter and fracture, and you’ll find guys running off in every direction.182

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  287 The internal movement decision to follow a strictly political path, as outlined in the Argitzen proposal, was made by the grassroots militants and activists between late 2008/early 2009 and the spring of 2010. As far as I can ascertain, except for Alex Maskey in January 2009, no senior Irish republican appears to have visited the Basque Country during this crucial period, or at least not publicly.183 Nonetheless, Sinn Féin and the perceived success of the Irish republican movement in following the kind of strategy outlined in Argitzen certainly seems to have been ‘present’ in the debate. Indeed, Imanol Murua, the leading analyst on the BIA’s consultation process and strategic change, notes how “the prestige of the [IRM] among the social base of the [Basque] Nationalist Left made such a move easier on the grounds that their allies in Ireland [had] made that move previously”.184 Likewise, Gorka Elejabarrieta, now a Senator in Madrid, states: I have to say that the Irish leadership and the Basque leadership have had over the years a very close relation, so in that sense this relation has helped us understand very well the situation in Ireland at every stage. And it has made then possible to understand our own situation very well. And of course, each process is different. There is no one-size-fits-all situation, but in this private relation, we have always spoken very frankly with each other, and given our advice, and listened to their advice over the years. And I have to say, and I think it’s been said by different people, that during our last internal debate in 2008, 2009, 2010, when we decided to change the strategy of the Abertzale Left, well, we had a close relation with Sinn Féin and we have seen that helped us also to take this new path.185 In Alex Maskey’s account, the Belfast man gives an insight into the message that he and other Irish republicans sought to transmit to their Basque comrades: I’ve sat in town halls, small meetings, big meetings in the Basque Country. I’ve done joint meetings with the ANC, with people like Robert McBride [former member of Umkhonto We Sizwe, the armed wing of the ANC], and other party colleagues have done likewise. And so, at times, the Basque leadership would’ve asked people like ourselves to go over and talk to some of their grassroots, their community. So, you were doing community meetings, you were doing press conferences, you were doing a lot of small, localised meetings, which were allowing people to ask questions and engage. And personally speaking, I found it very positive, I found there was a great willingness for people to learn, and they were looking at Ireland as an example. So, I do think we played a role in terms of developing that peace process […] Aye, you have to end the conflict and you need allies and partners around that, but you need to build your own base. If you don’t have your own

288  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) base, you become isolated and you won’t win. If you don’t win your own community over, you’re not gonna win anyone else. So, I suppose that would’ve been the argument that we would’ve been making all that time: ‘Listen: you will not get—in this instance, either the Spanish or French states—being overwhelmingly supportive of this because they’re gonna see that it’s a loss to them. So, you’re gonna have to work. You’re gonna need to get allies, internationalise it where you can … but you need to build support in your own country; that has to be your priority. Sometimes, you need to bring other influences to bear, yes, but no one is gonna make peace in your country other than the people in your country. All the rest of us can fly in, but at the end of the day, we all fly out again.186 It should be noted that Maskey, Walsh, Culbert, de Brún, Ó Broin and other Irish republicans interviewed for this study all stressed the qualitative difference between offering experience to their Basque comrades, as opposed to advice, the latter of which would apparently only ever be forthcoming if it were explicitly requested. From May 2007 to October 2011, the BIA-IRM nexus and its accumulative influence assisted the new strategic vision of the izquierda abertzale political leadership cadre in two ways. First, Irish republicans provided their experience (and advice, when requested) on the importance of movement cohesion (i.e., avoiding a ‘collapse in social movement support’, which could have provoked a split) and the securing of minimum commitments on technical issues from the Spanish Government. This seems to have occurred at the political and military level. Adams and other republicans were also instrumental in the ‘international facilitation’ of ETA’s ‘ending’. Indeed, Adams’ very presence at Aiete was, in the view of Elejabarrieta: “important in terms of the constituency he represents, and also what he represents in terms of the success the Irish peace process has been […] [He] represents the past, the present and the future in a sense”.187 Second, and perhaps more importantly, the perceived advancement of the republican movement’s project towards its ultimate objectives via political means only, offered a sort of visual reference from a trusted and respected transnational partner of what the end of ETA could, and possibly would, look like for the izquierda abertzale. ETA’s ‘ending’ in 2011 came about as a result of an interconnected mix of domestic political, military, and social movement factors that effectively rendered its violence obsolete. It is my contention that at all three levels, the prestige of the IRM within radical Basque nationalist circles, the experience and advice imparted by republican figures regarding their own movement’s strategic shift, and crucially, the perception of the IRM’s transformative success, all offered the izquierda abertzale leadership a vital (perhaps even necessary?) narrative arc that scaffolded this journey in times of difficulty in much the same way that the IRM had, at times, previously leaned on the reference of the ANC.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  289 In short, the Irish republican movement reference served to underscore the ‘rational choice’ that effectively had to be made from within the Basque izquierda abertzale. Or as one grassroots Basque activist neatly put it, the Irish reference, with the IRM to the fore, made it easier for the BIA to “comer la decisión” (eat the decision).188 Lastly, it is worth stressing that in as much as the IRM and its relationship with the BIA had an accumulative influence on this process (and indeed other historical aspects related to radical Basque nationalism), this influence and whatever ‘demonstrative effects’ the BIA have drawn from Irish republicanism and the broader Irish case have always been subordinate to and encompassed within the more significant domestic political dynamics of the Basque Country and Spain.189 Conclusion Following the signing of the Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement in 1998, a growing disparity in movement needs resulted in the IRM assuming a sort of senior role in its transnational relationship with the BIA. With the BIA now standing to benefit a lot more from continued associations with the IRM than was the reverse, the transnational dynamic and interest in radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations once again became heavily asymmetric. Already evident since the Downing Street Declaration of 1993, post-GFA, radical and moderate Basque nationalists leaned into the thesis that the IRM, in conjunction with the SDLP and Fianna Fáil-led Irish Government, had gained recognition of Irish self-determination from London. For Basque nationalists, a similar accumulation of pan-nationalist forces (as envisaged in the Foro Irlanda and manifested in the shape of the Lizarra-Garazi Agreement) could perhaps force Madrid to engage with the political dimensions of the Basque-Spanish relationship. In the wake of ETA’s return to violence and the collapse of the LGA at the turn of the millennium, the main frame of Irish republican–radical Basque nationalist relations refocused in line with the latter’s attempts to broker talks with the Spanish Government. To this end, the izquierda abertzale sought and tapped into the IRM’s vast experience of dealing with the British Government, unionists, their fellow nationalists (SDLP and Irish Government) and international actors (US, EU, ANC). It is no coincidence that it was Alex Maskey, Bairbre de Brún and Gerry Kelly, all three of whom were heavily involved in the negotiations leading up to the GFA, who would become senior BIA-IRM nexus nodes throughout the Zapatero process. Speaking of his involvement, Maskey recalls: As [the izquierda abertzale] were moving towards a peace process, peace initiative, and suing for peace, people like myself and some other comrades were, I suppose … became more involved, because I was part

290  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) of our party’s negotiating team through the Good Friday [Agreement], and since then. And so, whenever the Basques were looking at a peace process and how they might, you know, develop that, then people like myself became more directly involved in discussions with them. It was around just sharing experiences, and you know, that would remain true to this very day.190 Maskey’s overview aligns with that of Pernando Barrena, who, as a senior BIA political figure and fluent English speaker, was arguably the main radical Basque nationalist node on the other side of this equation: They always tried to offer us tools and expertise and say ‘well, we did it like this, and it worked’, ‘and we found these problems’, ‘and be careful with this’, or ‘according to our experience, it’s very important to do this’.191 Negotiation skills would, of course, only be of use in a negotiation. After the breakdown of ETA’s ceasefire in early 2000 and with José María Aznar’s Partido Popular in power, this was a distant prospect. Moreover, 9/11 and the US-led ‘war on terror’ suddenly changed the international context in which the BIA was operating. While non-state violence may be deemed appropriate and understandable among the general public at certain times and in certain contexts,192 after the 9/11 attacks in the USA and 11-M in Madrid, ETA was increasingly finding itself on the wrong side of history, even among its traditional support base. The problem for BIA ‘politicos’ who were beginning to understand the need for strategic change was that the illegalisation of Herri Bastasuna/ Bastasuna also undermined the political route. Unable to affect engagement with the Spanish State regarding its political programme and under severe police and juridical constraints, perhaps pressure could be applied on Spain externally? As Karmelo Landa recalls: “What do we do in the face of this situation? Obviously, we rely on international support”.193 From the beginning of the Zapatero process until 2011, Sinn Féin figures and Father Alec Reid served as a sort of bridge for the BIA in its efforts to internationalise the Basque case. The Barajas bombing in December 2006 and the breakdown of talks in Geneva in May 2007 effectively closed off the possibility of another process emerging in the short to medium term. In response, the izquierda abertzale embarked on an internal process of strategic movement shift whilst tapering its immediate external objectives to more modest, albeit highly emotional ‘technical’ advances (e.g., an end to prisoner dispersion, demilitarisation). Reflecting the change in its movement needs, the political leadership of the izquierda abertzale now sought the advice and experience of senior Sinn Féin figures as to how the IRM had kept its political culture intact throughout a similarly transformative strategic shift (politico-military, to political). This

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  291 Sinn Féin Mirror drove the BIA-IRM transnational dynamic between 2007 and 2011. The existence of a parallel channel of communication at a military level between ETA and the IRA around the same or similar issues also seems highly likely. Although the PP and PSOE tended to reject radical and moderate Basque nationalists’ utilisation of the Irish Mirror (Chapter 6), post-GFA, the Irish Mirror could also occasionally work in their favour. For instance, when the IRA announced that it had begun to decommission weapons in October 2001, the main Spanish parties and victims’ groups implored ETA to do the same (whilst overlooking the fact that IRA decommissioning was but one aspect of a greater peace process and settlement).194 Anecdotally, Bairbre de Brún recollects that having initially encountered hostility from Spanish MEPs in Brussels on account of her interlocution with the izquierda abertzale and her work with the Basque Friendship Group, she later detected a sea change in attitudes: The longer it went on and the more the peace process [in Ireland] developed, the more there was a kind of an ambivalence among the Spanish, even the Spanish conservatives towards us, because on the one hand they didn’t like the Friendship [Group] trying to bring this on to a European stage, but on the other hand they were trying to say at home to the Basques: ‘why don’t you do what the Irish did?’195 Former Lehendakari Ibarretxe also perceived a sort of correlation at play between the longevity and proximity of Herri Batasuna/Batasuna-Sinn Féin relations and an implication that the izquierda abertzale would, or should, follow a similar trajectory to their Irish partners: I believe that during my time as lehendakari, the influence of Sinn Féin on Batasuna was positive, because Sinn Féin was ahead of Batasuna and many of the decisions that Batasuna has been taking in relation to ETA, in relation to the actions of ETA, in relation to violence, in relation to doing politics and only politics and not politics/military, in those advances that sometimes have been very timid, the truth is that I always saw the positive hand from the point of view of Sinn Féin [...] There is a positive tension on the part of Sinn Féin in its relationship with Batasuna. Why? Because the reflection from a political and social point of view in Sinn Féin was more advanced in terms of doing politics and only politics than in Batasuna [...] I have seen Sinn Féin get annoyed with Batasuna, when Batasuna did not react to certain episodes of Kale Borroka or episodes of violence. Sinn Féin was always telling Batasuna during those years that it had to move, that it had to move faster, that it had to move more courageously, without a doubt. Of course, I have observed it. Not only have I observed it, but in my time, we commented on it [...] Batasuna has obviously moved because it has

292  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) had many arguments from the outside that told it, ‘No, no, you have to move to politics and only to politics, forget about any other path’, until, at a certain moment, that position has become the majority. At one stage that position was not in the majority in the internal debate, but as the years went by and they received a lot of information, much of which came from the Irish process and from their own friendship with leaders in whom they had confidence in Sinn Féin … ah well, that minority gained ground until it became the majority.196 The majority that Ibarretxe speaks of finally succeeded in wresting control of the izquierda abertzale in 2010 through the mandate of the Argitzen initiative. As I have argued, the accumulative weight of radical Basque nationalistIrish republican relations helped to facilitate the conditions by which the subsequent ‘ending’ of ETA became a reality. The course of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations from the summer of 1998 to October 2011 did not all run in one direction. What of the Irish republican movement’s rationale in maintaining its Basque nexus? Although post-GFA associations with the izquierda abertzale occasionally “caused us grief politically” (in the words of Maskey), the republican movement was, in reality, able to absorb the blowback relatively easily with most criticism emanating from either unionist sources or the right-wing Progressive Democrats. As far as I can tell, Florencio Domínguez’s account of the ETA-IRA Paris meeting in 1999 was only covered by one Irish journalist, Eoghan Harris, a long-time critic of Provisional Irish republicanism.197 The one significant flashpoint for Sinn Féin was Iñaki Juana de Chaos’ 2008–10 Irish foray. However, even in this instance, the main ‘hook’ for Irish and international media was not necessarily ETA or de Chaos himself, but rather his indirect connection to one of the ‘Colombia 3’, James Monaghan. In summary, for the IRM, the cost-benefit analysis of maintaining close relations with its Basque comrades never tipped too far into the negative for the movement to seriously consider discarding the nexus. In Agnès Maillot’s view, Sinn Fein’s decision to stand by its Basque partners in the post-GFA era served as a reminder to the internal base that although the IRM had faced and accepted extremely difficult compromises during the Irish peace process, it had “not softened its position on self-­ determination and reunification”.198 A more convincing view, in my opinion, is that which Martyn Frampton posits. Frampton argues that Sinn Féin’s response to the GFA and its implications around the (non-)use of violence was to simply reinterpret the rationale of its radical external alliances, including its relationship with radical Basque nationalism: “whereas once [Sinn Féin] had been an ambassador for the virtues of the Armalite, now it sought to be so for the [Good Friday] Agreement”.199 In other words, Sinn Féin chose to style itself as a champion for dialogue and peace in other conflictive cases, earning international ‘kudos’, prestige and political capital in the process.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  293 Additional factors are relevant. For example, senior Sinn Féin figures such as Maskey and de Brún have cited motivations that reflect back on their decades-long relationships with radical Basque nationalist figures and their experiences with the ANC. Regarding the former, standing by the izquierda abertzale was about repaying an outstanding debt of solidarity owed since the 1980s when visiting BIA politicians and grassroots activists helped to ameliorate the IRM’s isolation. As for the latter, senior republicans expressed a sense of responsibility to pass on the wise counsel they had received from the ANC to their Basque comrades. For his part, Ó Broin stresses the genuine bonds of friendship that became entwined through decades of personal and political IRM-BIA relations—friendships which have, like any other, weathered various ups and downs (in his case, since 1997). One other factor that may partially account for continued IRM engagement centres on the dynamic between ‘mainstream’ Sinn Féin republicanism and ‘dissident’ republicanism. As ‘dissident’ republicans stepped up their armed campaigns in the late 2000s, senior Sinn Féin figures, most notably Martin McGuinness, gradually became more strident in their condemnations.200 Yet, Sinn Féin, at that precise moment, was expressing solidarity and publicly advocating for the izquierda abertzale, whose military wing remained active. As it had been for most of the 2000s, Sinn Féin was more open than ever to accusations of hypocrisy regarding its Basque nexus. In this sense, the opportunity to be involved in a Basque ‘peace process’ and ‘settlement’ of sorts, to turn all previous criticism into credit, must also be considered a significant factor in the party’s steadfast commitment up to the Aiete conference of 2011. As the historian Eunan O’Halpin argues and as Eoin Ó Broin admits regarding his own party, Sinn Féin’s historical international approach has tended to be one guided almost exclusively towards its domestic agenda. That is to say, whilst quick to express a shared sense of suffering with oppressed peoples, the IRM’s chequered historical list of transnational contacts and relations, including with Hitler’s Germany and Gadaffi’s Libya, have spoken to a more opportunistic outlook. For this reason, O’Halpin concludes that “the best single motif for Irish republicanism’s external relationships” has been the old Irish nationalist adage of “England’s difficulty is Ireland’s opportunity”.201 In more recent decades, Sinn Féin has sought to firmly position itself within a European arc of non-violent and self-described “progressive” proindependence movements in the likes of Scotland, Wales, Catalonia, and now the Basque Country. In maintaining and building on its relations with the Basque izquierda abertzale in the aftermath of the GFA and in assisting its Basque comrades through a difficult strategic shift towards a purely political form of advocacy, one could argue that Sinn Féin has begun to demonstrate the kind of principled solidarity and coherent international approach that Ó Broin himself has long championed.202 Whether the party chooses to maintain or discard this approach when, as seems likely, Sinn Féin wins institutional power North and South within the coming electoral cycles is an open question.

294  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) Notes 1 “The 1998 Referendums,” www.ark.ac.uk/elections/fref98.htm, accessed 22 February 2020. Exit poll figures cited in: White, Ashes, 306. 2 “Basque support for yes,” AP/RN, 28.05.1998; Herri Batasuna, El Acuerdo: este acuerdo es sobre tu futuro: por favor leelo atentamente / Akordioa: akordio hau zure etorkizunari buruzkoa da: mesedez, arretaz irakur ezazu, Fundación Sancho el Sabio; Aulestia, HB, 109–10; Author interview with Basque source. 3 “Basque repression intensifies,” AP/RN, 18.06.1998. 4 “El 18/98 baja el telón dejando dolor, pero sin lograr su objetivo,” GARA, 05.01.2018. 5 Cited in: Alonso, “Pathways.” 6 What would become the ‘Foro Irlanda’ was first initiated in late 1997. See: De Pablo and Mees, Péndulo, 441. For an English version of the Lizarra-Garazi Agreement, see: “Lizarra-Garazi Accord,” https://peacemaker.un.org/sites/ peacemaker.un.org/files/ES_980912_LizarraGaraziAccord.pdf, accessed 22 February 2020. 7 “‘The Republican Movement has taught us the way’,” AP/RN, 24.09.1998. 8 “Dúirt Siad,” AP/RN, 24.09.1998. 9 Mees, Contention, 196–97; Murua, Ending ETA, 42–48. For an analysis of the PNV’s strategic thinking in moving towards a common platform with Herri Batasuna and for some of the broader factors that made the accord possible, see: Ludger Mees, “Nationalist Politics at the Crossroads: The Basque Nationalist Party and the Challenge of Sovereignty (1998–2014),” Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 21, no. 1 (2015): 44–62. 10 Author interview with Paul Rios, 2016. 11 Whitfield, Endgame, 91. 12 “Spain: Irish Sinn Féin leader Adams meets political leaders,” footage available at www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pgKr2yCziw, accessed 22 February 2020. 13 “The cry is independencia!” AP/RN, 08.10.1998. 14 Author interview with Pat Rice, 2017. Use of italics for Rice’s stress on “did”. 15 Ibid. 16 Author interview with Paul Rios, 2016. 17 “Ireland high on international agenda,” AP/RN, 02.05.1995; “International support for Sinn Féin,” AP/RN, 28.03.1996; Author interview with Pat Rice, 2017. 18 “Resultados electorales,” www.euskadi.eus/ab12aAREWar/resultado/maint, accessed 29 April 2020. 19 Whitfield, Endgame, 93–94; Bew et  al., Talking, 225; “Cuando Aznar comisionó al obispo Uriarte para mediar con ETA,” www.eldiario.es/norte/euskadi/ Aznar-comisiono-obispo-Uriarte-ETA_0_865114229.html, accessed 11 April 2020. 20 Murua, Ending ETA, 45–48. 21 Many of those involved in the Udalbiltza were subsequently prosecuted. See: “2011-01-20 sentencia udalbiltza,” http://s.libertaddigital.com/doc/sentenciade-la-an-41912086.pdf, accessed 11 April 2020. Sinn Féin’s Alex Maskey attended the Udalbiltza inauguration. Author interview with Alex Maskey, 2018. 22 “ETA’s end to ceasefire a challenge to nationalists,” Irish Times, 07.12.1999. For ETA’s statement, see: www.elmundo.es/nacional/eta/tregua/ruptura.html, accessed 11 April 2020. 23 Domínguez, Agonía de ETA, 63–64. 24 Muro, “ETA during democracy.” 25 “Jarrai speaks of close ties with SFY,” AP/RN, 02.07.1998; “Tiocfaidh ár lá,” AP/RN, 18.06.1998; “Saoirse supports Basque POWs,” AP/RN, 01.10.1998; “Young and Independent,” AP/RN, 22.10.1998.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  295 26 Otegi and Aguirre visited Ireland in March 1998. See: “Pedagogía de la negociación,” Egin, 29.03.1998. 27 “El IRA aporta a ETA material e información técnica para realizar atentados,” El País, 08.01.1990. 28 “Shot London IRA activist new hero of Basques,” Irish Independent, 28.09.1996. See also: “Garda security tight as IRA suspect buried,” The Irish Times, 04.10.1996; “Diarmuid O’Neil, el ‘inglés’ de Amorebieta,” El País, 27.09.1996. 29 Domínguez, Dentro, 239. Unless otherwise stated, all information contained in the rest of this section may be found in: Domínguez, La agonía, 15–36. 30 “Spanish PM saved from assassination by faulty IRA missile,” The Telegraph, 18.01.2010. 31 Cited in: Hearing before the Committee on International Relations House of Representatives, One Hundred Seventh Congress, Second Session, April 24, 2002, Serial No. 107–87, 105, P14,913, LLB. 32 “Transcript of President Bush’s address to a joint session of Congress on Thursday night, September 20, 2001,” http://edition.cnn.com/2001/US/09/20/gen. bush.transcript/, accessed 2 March 2019. 33 “Spanish ex-prime minister defends decision to back Iraq war,” The Guardian, 02.11.2015. 34 “The Bush Crusade,” www.thenation.com/article/archive/bush-crusade/ ­accessed 12 April 2020; “George Bush: ‘God told me to end the tyranny in Iraq’,” The Guardian, 07.10.2005. 35 Nicholas Rostow, “Before and after: The Changed UN Response to Terrorism Since September 11th,” Cornell International Law Journal 35, no. 3 (Winter 2002): 475–90. 36 Whitfield, Endgame, 100–5. 37 “ETA,” https://baltasargarzon.org/baltasar-garzon/carrera-judicial/terrorismo/ eta/; Irwin Cohen and Raymond Corrado, “A Future for the ETA?” in Meeting the Challenges of Global Terrorism: Prevention, Control, and Recovery, eds. Dilip Das and Peter Kratcoski (Oxford: Lexington Books, 2003), 271–90. 38 Executive Order 13224 blocking Terrorist Property and a summary of the Terrorism Sanctions Regulations (Title 31 Part 595 of the U.S. Code of Federal Regulations), Terrorism List Governments Sanctions Regulations (Title 31 Part 596 of the U.S. Code of Federal Regulations), and Foreign Terrorist Organizations Sanctions Regulations (Title 31 Part 597 of the U.S. Code of Federal Regulations), US Department of the Treasury Office of Foreign Assets Control. See: https://web.archive.org/web/20070710174922/www.treasury.gov/offices/ enforcement/ofac/programs/terror/terror.pdf. See also: “El juez Garzón procesa a 16 integrantes del ‘aparato’ de asuntos exteriores de ETA,” El País, 08.08.2000. 39 Leslie Turano, “Spain: Banning political parties as a response to Basque terrorism,” International Journal of Constitutional Law 1, no. 4 (October 2003): 730–40; “Basque nationalist party shut down,” The Guardian, 26.08.2002. 40 Having fled the country, the three men were convicted in absentia and sentenced to 17 years in prison by a Colombian judge. See: “Fugitive IRA man ‘aided Colombia escape’,” The Guardian, 19.12.2004. 41 The ‘Stormont spygate’ affair centred on the alleged existence of a republican spy ring at government buildings in Belfast. See: “Stormontgate: how events unfolded,” Irish Times, 17.12.2005. In December 2004, £26.5 million was stolen from a Belfast branch of Northern Bank. The robbery is widely believed to have been orchestrated by the IRA. See: “Northern Bank robbery: The crime that nearly ended the peace process,” The Guardian, 09.10.2008. 42 Hearing before the Committee on International Relations House of Representatives, 105, LLB. See also: Domínguez, La agonía, 27; Moloney, Secret History, 511; Adam Ward, “The IRA’s foreign links,” Strategic Comments 9, no. 5, 1–2

296  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) (2003). Having first denied that Connolly was a Sinn Féin representative, Gerry Adams later conceded that Connolly had served as the party’s representative in Cuba. See: “Connolly was our man in Havana, admits Sinn Féin leader,” Irish Independent, 22.10.2001; “IRA’s links with Farc and Eta revealed,” The Guardian, 25.08.2001. 43 Maillot, New Sinn Féin, 136–37; “Sinn Fein platform for Eta angers Unionists,” The Guardian, 26.09.2001; “Trimble challenges Sinn Féin over Basque links,” The Guardian, 09.09.2002; “SF rejects O’Malley’s summons,” AP/RN, 18.04.2002. 44 “Basque bombers top up IRA’s terror arsenal,” The Telegraph, 30.06.2002. 45 Frampton, Long March, 146–47. 46 “Sinn Féin split on Basque ties as Irish tourists brave bombs,” Sunday Independent, 27.07.2003. 47 Author interview with Pat Rice, 2017. Use of italics for Rice’s stress on “our” and “their”. 48 Author interview with Bairbre de Brún, 2016. Use of italics for de Brún’s stress on “always”. De Brún became Minister for Health, Social Services and Public Safety in the Northern Ireland Executive in 1999. 49 “Basques highlight unjust arrests,” AP/RN, 30.03.2000; “International Solidarity,” AP/RN, 13.04.2000; “Concern at arrest of Basque leaders,” AP/ RN, 14.09.2000; “Basque language activists arrested,” AP/RN, 07.12.2000; “Basque journalist arrested,” AP/RN, 25.01.2001; “Basque activists freed,” AP/ RN, 22.02.2001; “Basques and Irish share experiences,” AP/RN, 16.08.2001; “Sympathy expressed to US people. International guests and debate,” AP/RN, 04.10.2001; “Basque prison support activists arrested,” AP/RN, 01.11.2001; “Basque woman reveals details of torture,” AP/RN, 08.11.2001; “Batasuna banned,” AP/RN, 29.08.2002; “Basques march against Batasuna ban,” AP/RN, 05.09.2002; “An alternative globalisation is possible,” AP/RN, 04.03.2004. 50 “Don’t forget us!” AP/RN, 21.09.2000. 51 Author interview with Danny Morrison, 2017. 52 “Ógra Shinn Féin National Congress,” AP/RN, 09.11.2000; “Spanish judge targets Basque leader,” AP/RN, 15.03.2001; Rolston: “Brothers”; Author interview with Damian Lawlor, 2017. 53 Eoin Ó Broin, Matxinada: Basque Nationalism and Radical Basque Youth Movements (Left Republican Books, 2003); Author interview with Pernando Barrena, 2017; Author interview with Iñaki Soto, 2016. Several grassroots republican activists interviewed for this study referenced Matxinada as having an influence on their politics. For many, it also served as their first introduction to the Basque case. 54 “Basque nationalism and radical Basque youth movements. Interview with Eoin Ó Broin,” AP/RN, 28.08.2003. 55 Author interview with Matt Carthy, 2017; Author interview with Damian Lawlor, 2017. 56 Eoin Ó Broin, Matxinada: Historia del Movimiento Juvenil Radical Vasco (Tafalla: Txalaparta, 2004), 13–14. 57 All those charged in connection with the Egunkaria case were eventually acquitted. See: “After seven years, closed newspaper finally acquitted of Basque terrorist links,” https://rsf.org/en/news/after-seven-years-closed-newspaper-­ finally-acquitted-basque-terrorist-links, accessed 12 April 2020. 58 “Un estudio oficial certifica la existencia de más de 4.100 denuncias de torturas en Euskadi,” www.eldiario.es/euskadi/euskadi/estudio-denuncias-torturasgobierno-vasco-upv_1_2995016.html, accessed 23 April 2020. See also: Murua, Ending ETA, 26–29.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  297 59 “Resultados electorales,” www.euskadi.eus/ab12aAREWar/resultado/maint, accessed 12 April 2020. 60 Rogelio Alonso, Florencio Domínguez, and Marcos García Rey, Vidas Rotas: Historia de los hombres, mujeres y niños víctimas de ETA (Madrid: Espasa, 2010), 1040–160. 61 Whitfield, Endgame, 100, 129. 62 Eoin Ó Broin, Matxinada: Basque Nationalism and Radical Basque Youth Movements, 2nd ed. (Irish Basque Committees, 2008), 134 (footnote 150). 63 “Batasuna presenta un nuevo documento para exigir la autodeterminación,” ABC, 28.01.2002. 64 “Maskey in Basque Country for new peace proposals,” AP/RN, 31.01.2002. 65 Whitfield, Endgame, 108, 113–14. 66 “Estatuto político de la Comunidad de Euskadi,” https://web.archive. org/web/20070715174650/www.nuevoestatutodeeuskadi.net/docs/­ dictamencomision20122004_cas.pdf, accessed 3 March 2020. 67 “Gerry ‘Secretos’ Adams,” Vanity Fair, 21.11.2011; Whitfield, Endgame, xix, 87, 130; Imanol Murua, El Triángulo de Loiola: Crónica de un Proceso de Negociación a Tres Bandas (Donostia: Ttartalo, 2010), 58. In the end, ETA decided not to use Reid as a mediator. See: Jonathan Powell, Talking to Terrorists: How to End Armed Conflicts (London: Vintage, 2014), 143. 68 Whitfield, Endgame, 133–39. 69 Ibid., 120–21. 70 Ibid., 145. 71 “Eta peace hopes grow as PM says he’ll talk,” Irish Independent, 17.01.2005. 72 “Gerry Adams cree que se están haciendo ‘esfuerzos por crear un ambiente de pacificación’ en Euskadi,” El Mundo, 19.02.2005; “Adams percibe una ‘oportunidad única’ para la paz en Euskadi,” Diario de Noticias de Álava, 17.02.2005. 73 “Bearing witness to criminalisation,” AP/RN, 17.03.2005. 74 “International Solidarity,” AP/RN, 10.03.2005. 75 “Spain clears way for peace talks with Eta,” The Guardian, 17.05.2005; “The F Word,” The Guardian, 18.05.2005, “Peace Talks,” The Economist, 19.05.2005; Mees, Contention, 215–16. 76 “Coche bomba de ETA en Madrid en pleno debate sobre la negociación,” El Mundo, 26.05.2005; “Outlawed Basque party denounces leader’s arrest,” www. euronews.com/2005/05/26/outlawed-basque-party-denounces-leader-s-arrest, accessed 17 April 2020. 77 Whitfield, Endgame, 150–58. 78 “IRA statement, 28 July 2005,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/othelem/organ/ira/ ira280705.htm, accessed 17 April 2020. 79 “St. Andrew’s Agreement,” https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/issues/politics/docs/nio/ bi131006.pdf, accessed 17 April 2020. 80 “Getting out, going on,” Irish Times, 04.11.1998. 81 “IRA statement.” 82 “Irish is central to republican struggle,” An Phoblacht, 08.12.2005; “Irish must be part of republican vision for the future,” An Phoblacht, 20.07.2006; Author interview with Séanna “Breathnach” Walsh, 2017. 83 Author interview with Michael Culbert, 2017. 84 Whitfield, Endgame, 142–44; Pluja Seca, mediadors internacionals, TV3 – ­Televisió de Catalunya, 2011; Murua, Ending ETA, 95; “Urko Aiartza forma parte de la guardia de honor ante el féretro de Nelson Mandela,” www.naiz. eus/en/info/noticia/20131214/sortu-asiste-a-los-homenajes-por-nelson-mandelaque-se-siguen-desarrollando-en-sudafrica, accessed 17 May 2022. 85 Alonso, “International Dimension”; “Alec Reid and the Basques,” Fortnight, no. 439 (December 2005): 6–7.

298  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) 86 “Basque Table for Conflict Resolution Addresses MEPs,” An Phoblacht, 15.12.2005. 87 Author interview with Bairbre de Brún, 2016. In addition to Bairbre de Brún, the ten other members of the first Basque Friendship Group were: Erik Meijer (Netherlands), Jiri Mastalka (Czech Republic), Tatjana Zdanoka (Latvia), Jens Holm (Sweden), Helmut Markov (Germany), Bart Staes (Belgium), Jill Evans (Wales), Alyn Smith (Scotland), Ian Hudghton (Scotland), Gérard Onesta (France). See: “European Basque Friendship Bulletin, No. 1, November 2008,” https://­ basquefriendship.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/basque-friendship-­newsletter-1. pdf, accessed 18 April 2020. 88 Author interview with Gorka Elejabarrieta, 2016. Additional biographical information in: Ioannis Tellidis and Harmonie Toros, eds., Researching Terrorism, Peace and Conflict Studies (London and New York: Routledge, 2015), x. 89 “Manifesto in support of a peace process in the Basque Country, Brussels, December 2005,” https://basquefriendship.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/manifiesto_ ing.pdf, accessed 18 April 2020. 90 “Texto íntegro del comunicado de ETA,” El País, 22.03.2006. 91 “From Belfast to Bilbao,” The Guardian, 19.04.2006. 92 “ETA move provides historic opportunity,” An Phoblacht, 23.03.2006. 93 “ETA ceasefire: Interview with Basque spokesperson, Pernando Barrena,” An Phoblacht, 06.04.2006. 94 “Sinn Féin ‘involved in Eta move’,” http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/­ northern_ireland/4840514.stm, accessed 20 April 2020; “Ex IRA men behind ETA ceasefire,” Evening Herald, 25.03.2006; “Former Provos play key role in ETA ceasefire,” Irish Independent, 25.03.2006; “ETA walking a path first trod by the IRA,” New York Times, 24.03.2006; Author interview with Alex Maskey, 2018. See also: Whitfield, Endgame, 162. 95 “The Irish links are strong in ending Basque conflict,” The Boston Globe, 26.03.2006; Author interview with Séanna “Breathnach” Walsh, 2017. 96 “McGuinness’s unlikely role as peace envoy,” Irish Independent, 16.06.2006; Author interview with Bairbre de Brún, 2016. 97 For comprehensive accounts of the ‘Zapatero process’ and subsequent years, see: Murua, Ending ETA; Murua, Triángulo; Whitfield, Endgame. 98 Murua, Ending ETA, 55; Whitfield, Endgame, 169–70. 99 Mees, Contention, 219–20. 100 Murua, Ending ETA, 56. 101 “EU MPs vote narrowly in favour of Basque peace process,” www.euronews. com/2006/10/25/eu-mps-vote-narrowly-in-favour-of-basque-peace-process, ­accessed 18 April 2020; Whitfield, Endgame, 162. 102 Murua, Ending ETA, 56–57. 103 The above three paragraphs rely heavily on: Whitfield, Endgame, 179–80. 104 Author interview with Eoin Ó Broin, 2015. 105 Whitfield, Endgame, 161–62, 184. 106 “Los asesores internacionales de Ibarretxe ven en el atentado de Barajas ‘un desafío y una nueva oportunidad para la paz’,” El Diario Vasco, 30.01.2007. 107 “Political exclusion counter-productive – Adams,” An Phoblacht, 15.02.2007; “Batasuna representatives’ whirlwind Irish visit,” An Phoblacht, 22.02.2007. 108 Anonymous interview. 109 José Félix Azurmendi, ETA: De Principio A Fin (Donostia: Ttarttalo, 2014), 339–40; Pluja Seca. 110 Murua, Triángulo, 147–48; Whitfield, Endgame, 184–85. 111 Author interview with Alex Maskey, 2018. 112 For details of the May 2007 talks in Geneva, see: Murua, Triángulo, 149–63, quote from Eguiguren on 163. See also: Whitfield, Endgame, 185–86.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  299 113 “Basque Country,” An Phoblacht, 07.06.2007. 114 Murua, Triángulo, 171, 180. 115 Ibid., 136. 116 “Basque Solidarity protests in Dublin,” http://irishbasquecommittees.blogspot. com/2006/12/, accessed 20 April 2020. 117 “Basque POW murdered,” AP/RN, 13.02.1997; “Basques Backed,” Fortnight, no. 359 (March 1997): 9–10. 118 Author interviews with multiple Basque and Irish grassroots sources. 119 Author interview with Diarmuid Breatnach, 2017. 120 Ibid. For a sample of the committees’ activities, see: “Irish Basque Solidarity Committees,” http://irishbasquecommittees.blogspot.com/, accessed 21 April 2020. 121 Author interview with Arturo Villanueva, 2017. 122 Author interview with Diarmuid Breatnach, 2017; Author interview with Arturo Villanueva, 2017. 123 Author interviews with multiple Basque and Irish grassroots sources; “Ireland—Basque Solidarity,” An Phoblacht, 01.06.2006; “International Week of Solidarity with the Basque Country,” www.indymedia.ie/article/91080, accessed 21 April 2020. See also: “Saoirse do Thír na mBascadh,” An Phoblacht, 13.12.2007. 124 “Ógra enjoy Basque youth festival,” AP/RN, 29.04.2004; “Ógra delegation in Basque Country,” An Phoblacht, 06.10.2005; “Large Ógra Shinn Féin mobilisation to the Basque Country,” An Phoblacht, 06.09.2007. 125 “Bailed Basque separatist faces extradition,” Irish Independent, 18.11.2008; “ETA man appears in court in Belfast,” Belfast Telegraph, 18.11.2008. 126 “Spanish judge asks Interpol to find wanted Eta terrorist living in Dublin,” Irish Times, 24.09.2008; “Spanish seeking Basque in Ireland,” http://news.bbc. co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/northern_ireland/7634234.stm, accessed 22 April 2020; “Basque pariah in exile,” Irish Times, 01.04.2009. 127 Anonymous interview. 128 “Court backs Basque activist’s extradition,” An Phoblacht, 19.03.2009. 129 “Basque pariah in exile,” Irish Times, 01.04.2009; Author interview with Pat Rice, 2017. 130 “Second Basque terror suspect arrested in Northern Ireland,” The Guardian, 22.04.2009; “Don’t Extradite the Basques Campaign launched,” An Phoblacht, 11.06.2009. 131 Author interview with Irish source; “Don’t Extradite the Basques campaign says thanks,” An Phoblacht, 25.06.2009; “Protest demands rejection of Basque extraditions,” An Phoblacht, 08.10.2009; “Stop Spanish Political Persecution—­Don’t Extradite the Basques,” www.gopetition.com/petitions/stop-­ spanish-political-persecution-dont-extradite-the-basques.html; “Protest Against Basque Extraditions,” http://sinnfeinrepyouth.blogspot.com/2009/06/protestagainst-basque-extraditions.html; “Basque Conference Held in Belfast,” www. indymedia.ie/article/93501?userlanguage=ga&save_prefs=true, sites ­accessed 22 April 2020. 132 Anonymous source. 133 “High Court backs Basque extradition dismissal,” http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/ uk_news/northern_ireland/8534268.stm, accessed 22 April 2020. 134 “Ex-ETA leader may have fled N. Ireland,” www.reuters.com/­ article/ u s-i rish-ba sque/ex-eta-lead er-may-ha ve-fled-n-ireland-court-told-­ idUSTRE63S36N20100429, accessed 22 April 2020. 135 “Declaración de ETA,” http://canales.diariovasco.com/documentos/­comunicado. pdf, accessed 25 April 2020. 136 Muro, “ETA during democracy,” quote on 50; Domínguez, La agonía.

300  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) 37 Zabalo and Saratxo, “ETA ceasefire.” 1 138 Mees, Contention, 108–10; von Tangen Page, Prisons, 20; Sullivan, ETA, 277. 139 Figures cited in: Mees, Contention, 177. See also: Sánchez-Cuenca, “Dynamics.” 140 Mees, Contention, 186. Sporadic protests against ETA in the late 1970s and early 1980s notwithstanding, the majority of Basque society did not openly reject ETA until the early 1990s. See: Murua, Ending ETA, 160. 141 Whitfield, Endgame, 204, 216–17; Murua, Ending ETA, 86; Author interview with Iñaki Soto, 2016. 142 Murua, Ending ETA, 80–89, 203. 143 “ETA anuncia su disolución,” El País, 03.05.2018. 144 Whitfield, 7. For a critical take on third party involvement in the 2000s, see: Alonso, “International Dimension.” 145 Murua, Ending ETA, 83, 179; Whitfield, Endgame, 224. 146 Mees, Contention, 243. 147 Author interview with Rufi Etxeberria, 2017. 148 Powell, Talking, 272. 149 Author interview with Rufi Etxeberria, 2017. 150 Philippe Duhart, “Directing Disengagement Movement Centralization, Coordination, and Credibility in the Irish and Basque Peace Processes,” European Journal of Sociology 57, no. 1 (2016): 31–63, quote on 31; Murua, Ending ETA, 179. 151 Murua, Ending ETA, 73; Moloney, Secret History; Author interview with Bertie Ahern, 2016. 152 “Spanish police arrest Basque leader,” Irish Times, 08.06.2007; “Protests after Spanish police arrest leaders of banned party,” The Guardian, 06.10.2007. 153 “European Basque Friendship Bulletin, No. 1, November 2008,” https://­ basquefriendship.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/basque-friendship-newsletter-1. pdf, ­accessed 18 April 2020. 154 Author interview with Gorka Elejabarrieta, 2016. 155 “Otegi habla de un ‘nuevo proceso de negociación’ que culminará con la libertad de todos los presos de ETA,” La Verdad, 07.09.2008; Murua, Ending ETA, 70–71. 156 “El Tribunal de Estrasburgo ratifica la ilegalización de Batasuna,” El País, 30.06.2009. 157 Rafa Díez and a handful of others were also embroiled in the Bateragune case. See: “El fallo del Tribunal Europeo de Derechos Humanos sobre Bateragune ya es definitivo,” www.eitb.eus/es/noticias/politica/detalle/6214798/caso-­ bateragune-el-fallo-tribunal-europeo-derechos-humanos-es-definitivo/, accessed 2 May 2020. 158 For example, see: Whitfield, Endgame, 143; “Spain has a problem with its judiciary,” https://verfassungsblog.de/spain-has-a-problem-with-its-judiciary/; “Spain’s Right-Wing Supreme Court is Riding Roughshod over Democracy,” https://jacobin.com/2021/11/spain-right-wing-supreme-court-democracy-­ alberto-rodriguez-manuel-marchena; “Spain’s politicised legal system on trial,” www.opendemocracy.net/en/can-europe-make-it/spains-politicised-legal-­ system-on-trial/, sites accessed 2 May 2023. 159 Murua, Ending ETA, 83–84; Whitfield, Endgame, 218–19. 160 “Impressions from Sinn Féin’s Árd Fheis in Dublin,” http://archiv.info nordirland.de/news/2010/new2010_105_e.htm#Kattalin%20Madariaga, ­accessed 26 April 2020. 161 “ETA blamed for death of French policeman in shoot-out near Paris,” The Guardian, 17.03.2010.

A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011)  301 162 “EA y Batasuna pactan crear un ‘Estado vasco’ por vías pacíficas,” Hoy, 21.06.2010. 163 “Sinn Féin in Basque Country after ETA statement,” An Phoblacht, 01.10.2010. 164 Author interview with Bairbre de Brún, 2016. 165 “ETA’s ceasefire is a political shift,” The Guardian, 06.09.2010. 166 “They can make peace; but they should heed the Irish lesson,” The Independent, 11.01.2011. 167 “Resultados electorales,” www.euskadi.eus/ab12aAREWar/resultado/maint, ­accessed 2 May 2020. 168 “Otegi gets 10-year jail term for belonging to ETA leadership,” El País, 16.09.2011; “Basque radical left refuse to view Otegi’s sentence as a stumbling block,” El País, 18.09.2011; “Spain sentences Basque leaders at heart of peace process. Sinn Féin calls for release,” An Phoblacht, 30.09.2011. 169 Whitfield, Endgame, 248–54. 170 Author interview with Bertie Ahern, 2016. 171 Murua, Ending ETA, 210. 172 Author interview with Jonathan Powell, 2017. 173 Author interview with Bertie Ahern, 2016. 174 Author interview with Bertie Ahern, 2016; Author interview with Gorka Espiau, 2017; Author interview with Jonathan Powell, 2017. 175 Author interview with Gorka Espiau, 2017. As well as Ahern, Adams, Powell and Kofi Annan, the international conference was attended by Gro Harlem Brundtland (former Prime Minister of Norway), and Pierre Joxe (former French Minister of the Interior). All six signed and presented the Aiete Declaration. 176 English, Terrorism, 218; “Similitudes y diferencias entre el comunicado de ETA y el del fin del IRA,” www.rtve.es/noticias/20111021/similitudesdiferencias-entre-comunicado-eta-del-fin-delira/1.469731.shtml, accessed 18 April 2020. 177 Author interview with Bertie Ahern, 2016. 178 Ibid. 179 Whitfield, Endgame, 246. 180 Anonymous interview; Author interview with Séanna “Breathnach” Walsh, 2017. 181 Moghadam, Nexus, 24–26. 182 Anonymous interview. 183 “Cuando Londres decidió criminalizar a los presos o a Sinn Féin, el conflicto sólo empeoró,” GARA, 10.01.2009. 184 Murua, Ending ETA, 179. 185 Author interview with Gorka Elejabarrieta, 2016. 186 Author interview with Alex Maskey, 2018. 187 Author interview with Gorka Elejabarrieta, 2016. Several other interviewees commented on what they felt was the highly symbolic participation of Adams at Aiete: Author interview with Paul Rios, 2016; Author interview with Gorka Espiau, 2017; Author interview with Iñaki Soto, 2016; Author interview with Iñaki Ruiz de Pinedo, 2017. 188 Author interview with Basque source. 189 Conversi, “Domino.” 190 Author interview with Alex Maskey, 2018. 191 Author interview with Pernando Barrena, 2017. 192 Lorenzo Bosi, Niall Ó Dochartaigh, and Daniela Pisoiu, “Contextualising Political Violence,” in Political Violence in Context, eds. Lorenzo Bosi, Niall Ó Dochartaigh, and Daniela Pisoiu (Colchester: ECPR Press, 2016), 1–28.

302  A Pathway to Peace in the Basque Country (c.1998–2011) 193 Author interview with Karmelo Landa, 2016; Author interview with Alex Maskey, 2018. 194 “Los políticos españoles advierten a ETA que se queda sola en Europa,” La Voz de Galicia, 24.10.2001. 195 Author interview with Bairbre de Brún, 2016. 196 Author interview with Juan José Ibarretxe, 2017. 197 Author interview with Alex Maskey, 2018; “Provisionals also have Basque blood on their hands,” www.pressreader.com/ireland/sunday-independentireland/20150607/282230894306995, accessed 9 April 2020. 198 Maillot, New Sinn Féin, 136–37. 199 Frampton, Long March, 146–47. 200 “Northern Ireland killings were an act of war, says hardline republican group,” The Guardian, 26.03.2009. 201 Ó Broin, Sinn Féin, 309; O’Halpin, “Republican Diplomacy.” For the IRA’s Nazi contacts and relations, see: Brian Hanley, “‘Oh here’s to Adolph Hitler’? … The IRA and the Nazis,” History Ireland 13, no. 3 (May/June 2005): 31–35. 202 For example, see: “Sinn Féin praises ‘enormous courage’ of Catalonia people,” The Irish News, 02.10.2017; “‘Time to build a pan-Celtic political culture to defeat Toryism’ – Sinn Féin President tells Plaid Cymru conference,” An Phoblacht, 05.10.2019; “Sinn Féin’s Michelle O’Neill welcomes Nicola Sturgeon’s indyref2 announcement,” The National, 30.06.2022.

8 ‘Gora Rebeldiak!’ Reflections on the History of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations

The Irish national liberation struggle is long, very long. It’s not over. Maybe the Irish are not fighting, but it’s not over […] [Instead of] fighting with arms, they are fighting politically, as best as they can. As well as us, because … maybe we are in [difficulties], but [in the Basque Country], it has not end[ed], it’s not over… the national liberation struggle. So, [we] just have to take a look in the Irish history, the Basque history, the history of our countries. We have to think: Which is the alternative? What can we do? Maybe the strategies we take, they need time to be implemented, to be developed. There is time for doing that.1 (Anonymous interview with BIA source) For the political cultures of radical Basque nationalism and Irish republicanism, “fighting politically, as best as they can”, their respective struggles are “not over”. Working within the political institutions, North and South, the Irish republican movement remains committed to achieving Irish reunification via the GFA mechanism. Likewise, for radical Basque nationalists, the daily task of building a seven-province independent Euskal Herria whilst overcoming the legal constraints of the Spanish and French states goes on. As the above quote typifies, in articulating their views and, quite often, personal experiences of the provenance, evolution and implications of the history of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations, contributors to this study consistently drew on various Basque-Irish comparisons, analogies, contrasts and parallels regarding the two cases, the nature of the conflicts, their respective stages, and so forth. Briefly discussed in Chapter 1, this comparative frame has been the backbone of scholarly research published on the Basque and Irish cases for decades. Rather than engage critically with the accuracy or otherwise of this myriad of Basque-Irish juxtapositions (although naturally, I have analysed how and why they were utilised), I have tried to remain focused on the objective of the study: namely, accounting for and analysing the emergence, development and implications of the historical relationship between the two political cultures. The relevance of this research objective is worth restating. DOI: 10.4324/9781003368045-8

304 Reflections Despite speculation in the media regarding the nature and scope of BIAIRM relations since the early 1970s, there has been no serious scholarly attempt at accounting for the historical reality of this transnational nexus, let alone understanding it (with the notable exceptions of the pre-1939 research carried out by Núñez Seixas, McCreanor, and a handful of others). In the absence of such a study, an axiomatic metanarrative of unbroken historical Basque-Irish solidarity has percolated and established itself within the rhetorical contours of both political cultures, to be utilised if and when it suits. Meanwhile, a ‘hearsay’ impression of the IRA and ETA as ‘blood brothers’, secretly working in cahoots, has permeated and broadly defined the public’s conceptualisation of the relationship dynamic via mainstream media. Neither image—both of which are reductionist and unsubstantiated—has served to further our knowledge of the factual history of the relationship between the two political cultures, nor our understanding of its provenance, how and why it developed as it did, and its related consequences for the movements and their wider case contexts. These gaps in the historiography, I believe, have now been largely addressed. Harnessing some of the existing literature on transnational relationship dynamics, in what follows, I shall attempt to reflect on and synthesise some of the defining and often overlapping radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican nexus characteristics that have been borne out through this investigation. The Nexus Writ Large: Three Key Factors

The emergence, evolution and sustainment of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations was generally contingent on three key factors. Within both political cultures, shared ideologies, most importantly nationalism, tended to guide initial interest and gravitation towards the potential transnational partner. For example, the broadly analogous projects of Irish nationalism and Basque nationalism fin de siècle acted as the root common denominator and catalyst for early (asymmetric) discursive engagement. Similarly, throughout the 1920s and early 1930s, the fitful and fragmented contacts and relations between a handful of Irish republicans and radical Basque nationalists tended to be underpinned by the rhetoric of heroic national struggle. Lastly, in the post-World War II period, the shared ideology and rhetoric of anti-imperialism, revolutionary leftism and, once again, nationalism, gradually drew the two political cultures into each other’s orbit, eventually leading to tangible (‘talking to’ rather than ‘talking about’) transnational interactions. Building out from shared ideology, it was usually specific movement (material and/or learning) needs and objectives that tended to dictate the realisation and scope of more advanced levels of transnational organisation-to-organisation relations across various nexus strands (e.g., party, paramilitary, youth, prisoner). Some of these movement (material and/or learning) needs and objectives have included military training and arms procurement; negotiation and ‘peace process’ experience and advice; youth wing mobilisation and

Reflections  305 education; collective prisoner organisation and advocacy; language renewal; alleviation of movement isolation, and strategic movement shift. While the shared ideology of nationalism usually acted as a magnet between the two political cultures, and the development of more advanced contacts and relations tended to be geared towards specific movement needs and/ or objectives at certain junctures, the subsequent interlocking of relationship strands created the conditions for the manifestation of a cross-movement ‘shared political culture’. Evident from the mid-to-late 1980s onwards, this ‘shared political culture’ provided, and still provides, a solid undergirding for the sustainment of all other nexus interactions. From the existing literature on factors that influence non-state transnational behaviour (most of which is focused on politically violent groups), the above patterns of BIA-IRM nexus attraction, engagement and sustainment most closely resemble the findings of Tricia Bacon’s research on “distant dyads”: militant organisations that do not operate in zero-sum competition with each other.2 While “shared ideology” may act as an identity feature that initially encourages or constrains partner selection, for Bacon, nexus formation is dictated by more instrumental “organizational learning and adaptation needs concerns”. Once an “alliance” has been formed, sustainment relies on an ongoing “need fit between partners” and the “partners’ ability to forge a shared identity”.3 In other words, the hard-headed movement needs and objectives that drive a transnational organisation-to-organisation nexus of this kind must ultimately be complemented with a shared identity if it is to be successfully sustained over an extended period of time. Although Bacon’s framework and others in the literature focus almost exclusively on militant groups (which is clearly not a direct fit with the political cultures of the BIA and IRM; both of which have historically employed conventional, disruptive and violent collective action. See Chapter 1), it is my view that these three accumulating factors (shared ideology, movement needs/objectives, and shared political culture, in that order) loosely scaffolded the genesis, development and sustainment of radical Basque nationalistIrish republican relations writ large over various historical epochs. Within this overarching schema, a vast array of macro-, meso- and micro-factors and contingencies constantly provoked, shaped, impinged, accelerated, constrained, and, at times, completely upended the radical Basque nationalistIrish republican nexus. These independent variables ranged massively from the simple chance and vagrancies of personal relationships (e.g., Eli Gallastegi and Ambrose Martin), to the considerations and implications of domestic and international politics (e.g., de Valera’s approach to Basque nationalists in the 1930s), to regime change (e.g., Spanish Transition). Dynamic Solidarity

The expressed basis of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican solidarity was dynamic and tended to closely align with contemporary case context, movement needs and objectives.

306 Reflections The fitful development of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations during the 1916–45 era (manifested mainly in the radical Basque nationalist press and via the Gallastegi-Martin relationship) tended to be underpinned by the grandiose rhetoric of national struggle, and during the Spanish Civil War, by the expressed anti-imperialist solidarity of Republican Congress. In the post-World War II era, documented expressions of reciprocal movement solidarity only began to emerge in tandem with the congruent outbreak of political violence in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country. Throughout the 1970s and early 1980s, a complex and multifocal radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican nexus involving PSF, PIRA, OSF, ETA-m, ETApm, EIA and HB, among others, evolved. Solidarity during this period tended to be principally expressed around the PIRA and ETA’s (later ETA-m and ETA-pm) respective ‘armed struggles’ for ‘national liberation’. Reciprocal expressions of solidarity and joint statements were also often imbued with a leftist, international revolutionary rhetoric. As the prospect of PIRA and ETA-m victories in their respective cases receded, the political relationship that developed between Sinn Féin and Herri Batasuna in the early 1980s became increasingly grounded in the rhetoric of self-determination—a phenomenon accelerated by the disintegration of the USSR and the first public acknowledgements of a hitherto relatively discreet Irish peace process. Accordingly, demands for Irish and Basque selfdetermination became the rhetorical keystone of nexus solidarity, crystallised in the following quote from a Sinn Féin spokesperson in 1994: “Relations between the Irish and Basque people and between Sinn Féin and Batasuna is based on mutual solidarity for the fight that both peoples carry out for selfdetermination and independence”.4 In the view of Sinn Féin and the IRA, the Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement of 1998 satisfied a minimum threshold for Irish self-determination. Consequently, the IRM’s principal objective pivoted towards amassing sufficient political power and public support to win a future border poll via the GFA mechanism. In contrast, the Basque izquierda abertzale was still seeking a similar constitutional mechanism in the Basque context. With both movements now “at different stages” (to paraphrase HB’s Esther Aguirre), shared BIA-IRM rhetoric of solidarity around the issue of self-determination no longer had the same implication, or at least not for the IRM. Although rarely communicated in public at the time, senior Irish republicans interviewed for this study rationalised their continued solidarity towards the BIA from 1998 to 2011 as stemming from a feeling of debt owed to their Basque comrades (accrued during the late 1980s and early 1990s when the BIA partly alleviated the IRM’s political and social isolation), and from an onus to similarly pass on the expertise and advice that the ANC had offered Sinn Féin during the Irish peace process. Finally, at both senior political and grassroots levels, Irish republican and radical Basque nationalist interviewees tended to emphasise the element

Reflections  307 of personal relationships and relatedly, trust, in their explications of crossmovement solidarity. Shared Political Culture, Shared Enemy Radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans developed a ‘shared political culture’ partly around, and in response to, a shared enemy. A prominent theme in Chapter 6 was the idea of a ritualised ‘shared political culture’ that emerged at the intersection of the two movements. Built around key nexus brokers and made up of an indeterminable number of grassroots nodes and activists that have traversed both political cultures, I have placed the first stirrings of this phenomenon, evocative of an Andersonesque ‘imagined community’, in the 1980s. As with any ‘imagined community’, the one that emerged at the intersection of the BIA and IRM required an ‘other’: in this case, the British, Spanish (and to a slightly lesser extent in the Basque case, French) states. Even prior to the genesis of this ‘shared political culture’, throughout the 1970s and early 1980s radical Basque nationalist and Irish republican actors jointly condemned London and Madrid as imperial hubs of political, social, economic and cultural repression (e.g., ETA-PIRA communiques of the 1970s, the Brest Charter, EIA and PSF discourse during the cuadrilla period). In the subsequent Sinn Féin-HB era, from 1983 onwards, movement threats, such as extradition, criminalisation, Dirty Wars in both territories, and the states’ political isolation of the IRM (AngloIrish Agreement of 1985) and BIA (Ajuria-Enea Pact of 1988), further underscored the relevance of the shared enemy thesis. Faced with these obstacles, radical Basque nationalists and Irish republicans took solace in each other’s politics and, reflecting once again the accelerating agent of movement (material and/or learning) needs and objectives, intensified and diversified their transnational relations in step with these new realities. Indeed, echoing the state-to-state dynamic in international relations, research has shown that the element of “threat” may similarly drive paramilitary groups to pursue transnational nexuses as a means of “survival”—with the caveat that, as non-state actors, militant groups usually lack the credibility, trustworthiness and dispute resolution mechanisms of states.5 The shared case experiences that informed the BIA and IRM’s ‘imagined community’ were partly mirrored in the states’ responses. In addition to the UK and Spain’s respective anti-terror strategies, which includes evidence of British-Spanish cooperation, any political rationale behind the armed campaigns of ETA and the IRA was, in general, publicly denied by the Spanish and British body politic and mainstream media. In this non-state/state war for hearts and minds, ETA and the IRA were essentially characterised as pathologically violent, “almost exoticized” terrorists.6 Two sets of non-state and state weltanschauungen, coupled with mutually unintelligible discourse

308 Reflections frames, descriptive language, relatos (narratives) and interpretations of the fundamental issues in both cases thus revolved around each other. Unstructured and Exclusive

Radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations appear to have to been largely unstructured across the military strand, and across the broader nexus, exclusive. In the first major post-9/11 work on militant transitional nexuses, Ely Karmon defined the phenomenon of non-state “coalition” as “ideological, material and operational cooperation between two or more terrorist organizations directed against a common enemy which may be a state targeted by one of the member organizations or a rival ideological bloc”. Building on Karmon’s research, Horowitz and Potter supposed transnational militant “alliances” as requiring “meaningful interaction”, dismissing “mere verbal support or ideological affinity”. In his study of militant South American dyads, Bond defined transnational violent non-state actor (VNA) “cooperative arrangements” as “a formal or informal arrangement that has been collectively decided upon by the cooperating parties and governs the management or execution of some level of resource sharing, strategic coordination and/ or tactical collaboration”. Meanwhile, in their respective studies, Bacon and Moghadam have developed complex categories of militant cooperation that account for factors such as degrees of independence/autonomy, the breadth and parameters of cooperation, types of cooperation, and so on.7 Reflecting on the above definitions, neither coalition, alliance nor sustained cooperative arrangement would appear to accurately depict the nature and scope of what we know of the military strand (i.e., ETA-IRA, for which these definitions apply) of the radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican nexus. Likewise, given the lack of conclusive evidence, it would be unwise to place ETA-IRA relations in either of Bacon or Moghadam’s categorisations. That ETA and the IRA maintained some sort of relationship is certain (joint statements; press quotes from militants; state papers/intelligence; personal statements, including in this study). However, in my own admittedly speculative opinion, a transnational coalition, alliance, or sustained cooperative arrangement along the lines of those outlined above would probably have carried too significant a security and political risk. To the best of my knowledge, no ETA or IRA member has ever been arrested for activities in the other territory. It is also worth recalling that British intelligence found no evidence of “operational links” between radical Basque nationalist and Irish republican militants at the very height of Spanish governmental concern in the late 1970s. Advanced transnational links between militant groups (regardless of how they are categorised: coalitions, alliances, cooperative arrangements, or otherwise) provide greater access to training, arms, safe havens, tactical information, and so forth. However, the quid pro quo for such benefits is paid in

Reflections  309 the increased risk of leaks, betrayals and the attention of counter-terrorist state initiatives. As Bond neatly surmises: “What renders state actors distrustful of VNAs also reduces trust among VNAs themselves, thus increasing the likelihood that they will operate alone”. Consequently, manifestations of collaboration among non-state militant groups are, in fact, quite rare. Given the lack of evidence to the contrary and the greater risks associated with more advanced cooperation, ETA-IRA relations were thus probably limited to more low-level, unstructured, or ad hoc manifestations.8 Regarding ETA-IRA links in recent decades, for which snippets of intelligence sometimes available in state archives are still not available, Domínguez suggests that a far more integrated level of transactional IRA-ETA cooperation occurred during the mid-to-late 1990s. In the absence of evidence from multiple sources, however, this is not conclusive. Lastly, although radical Basque nationalist and Irish republican relations were never formally institutionalised, it would appear that during the EIAPSF cuadrilla period (c.1977–83) and the subsequent HB-Sinn Féin-centric era, there existed an understanding that the nexus was exclusive. Transnational relations, both political and personal, were valued, and in the case of the HB, carefully guarded. The ‘shared political culture’ at the intersection of the two movements, coupled with a positive cost-benefit analysis (albeit less so for the IRM), meant that neither nexus sustainment nor nexus exclusivity was ever seriously challenged. Relatedly, to my knowledge, there is no evidence of either nexus partner ever publicly criticising the other, even after notorious killings or ceasefire breakdowns. Basque-Irish Asymmetricity and the Utility of the Nexus

The radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican nexus has tended to be asymmetric, and has served, at times, as a powerful galvanising and instrumental tool. Perhaps the most defining characteristic of radical Basque nationalistIrish republican relations is the asymmetric axis of interest, engagement and political utilisation that runs right through its entire history. As detailed in Chapter 2, Irish-to-Basque asymmetricity even pre-dates the beginning of the post-1916 radical phase. Whilst asymmetricity narrowed in the 1970s and 1980s (coinciding with the IRM and BIA’s largely congruous politicalmilitary strategies), it once again became pronounced as the Irish peace process evolved during the 1990s. One striking exception to this trajectory was at youth level, where Jarrai heavily influenced the genesis of Sinn Féin Youth. During the first and second Irish Mirror periods (circa 1916–36 and circa 1989–2006), radical Basque nationalists utilised lessons and implications that they drew from the Irish case (i.e., the ‘reflections’ they saw in the Irish Mirror) and deployed them as a galvanising reference and an instrumental tool. Regarding the first period, in extrapolating from the 1916 Rising and the establishment of the Irish Republic in 1919, Eli Gallastegi sought to shore up

310 Reflections the fundamental tenets of an aberriano/Jagi-Jagi generation of radical Basque nationalism whose most ambitious ‘Aranist’ objectives no longer seemed so far-fetched. The political tours of Ambrose Martin to the Basque Country in 1922 and 1932, during which he was presented as a heroic personification of the republican struggle, also galvanised the radical Basque nationalist wing. Following the signing of the Downing Street Declaration in December 1993, BIA political leaders and moderate Basque nationalists in the PNV immediately sought to achieve a similar accord with Spain. Harnessing the BIA/ Basque Country-IRM/Northern Ireland ‘loop of association’ that was established and diffused during the 1970s and early 1980s, radical and moderate Basque nationalists once again deployed the Irish Mirror (what they perceived as its implications regarding the right of a nation to self-determination) as a rhetorical battering ram against Madrid. For the BIA, cultivating close relations and international comparisons with the Irish republican movement dovetailed perfectly with this strategy. In this sense, the Irish Mirror and the nexus relations themselves served as a powerful instrumental tool. Finally, and to come full circle, I return to Arnaldo Otegi’s parting words of “Up the Rebels! Gora Rebeldiak!” to Sinn Féin delegates at the republican party’s 2016 Ard Fheis. It is this ‘Basque-ization’ of a popular Irish republican slogan which, perhaps more than any other detail mentioned in this book, serves to encapsulate the Irish case as a galvanising refence in radical Basque nationalist political culture whilst underscoring the prevailing asymmetricity throughout the history of radical Basque nationalist-Irish republican relations. Notes 1 Anonymous interview. 2 For example, see: Bacon, “Alliance”; Bacon, “Strange”; Bandy and Smith, “Cooperation”; Bapat and Bond, “Alliances”; Bond, “Power”; Horowitz and Potter, “Allying”; Karmon, Coalitions; Moghadam, Nexus; Smith, Chatfield, and Pagnucco, eds., Transnational. 3 Bacon, “Alliance.” 4 “Adams visiting Basque separatists next week,” Evening Herald, 07.05.1994. 5 See: Bapat and Bond, “Alliances”; Bond, “Power,” 12–21, 63; Erica Chenoweth, “Democratic Competition and Terrorist Activity,” The Journal of Politics 72, no. 1 (2010): 16–30; Karmon, Coalitions, 14–31. 6 For “almost exoticized” and related discussion, see: Cameron Watson, “Imagining ETA,” in Basque Politics and Nationalism on the Eve of the Millennium, eds. William A. Douglas, Carmelo Urza, Linda White, and Joseba Zulaika (Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1999): 99–114. 7 Bond, “Power,” 4; Horowitz and Potter, “Allying”; Karmon, Coalitions, 7, 31; Bacon, “Strange,” 751–56; Moghadam, Nexus, 6. 8 Victor Asal and Karl R. Rethemeyer, “The Nature of the Beast: Organizational Structures and the Lethality of Terrorist Attacks,” The Journal of Politics 70, no. 2 (2008): 437–49; Bacon, “Strange,” 9–11; Bond, “Power,” 23.

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Book Chapters Alonso, Rogelio. “Confronting Terrorism in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country: Challenges for Democracy and Legitimacy.” In The Consequences of Counterterrorism, edited by Martha Crenshaw, 213–54. New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 2010. Alonso, Rogelio. “Individual Motivations for Joining Terrorist Organizations: A Comparative Qualitative Study On Members of ETA and IRA.” In Tangled Roots: Social and Psychological Factors in the Genesis of Terrorism, edited by Jeffrey Ivan Victoroff, 187–202. Amsterdam: IOS Press, 2006. Alonso, Rogelio, and Florencio Domínguez Iribarren. “The IRA and ETA: The International Connections of Ethno-Nationalist Terrorism in Europe.” In Terrorism: Patterns of Internationalization, edited by Jaideep Saikia and Ekaterina Stepanova, 3–17. New Delhi: Sage, 2009. Argomaniz, Javier. “Comparing the experiences of victims of ETA and paramilitaries in Northern Ireland.” In ETA’s Terrorist Campaign: From Violence to Politics, 1968– 2015, edited by Rafael Leonisio, Fernando Molina, and Diego Muro, 125–42. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Arrieta Alberdi, Leyre. “Dilemas del nacionalismo vasco en la Guerra Civil.” In Desde la capital de la República: Nuevas perspectivas y estudios sobre la Guerra Civil española, edited by Sergio Valero Gómez and Marta García Carrión, 171–85. Valencia: Publicacions de la Universitat de València, 2018.

320 Bibliography Arrieta Alberdi, Leyre. “Emakume.” In Diccionario ilustrado de símbolos del nacionalismo vasco, edited by Santiago de Pablo, José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Ludger Mees, and Jesús Casquete, 203–16. Madrid: Tecnos, 2012. Avilés Farré, Juan. “¿Cómo terminó la tercera ola terrorista en Europa?” In Héroes de la retirada: La disolución de ETA político-militar, coordinated by Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla and Sara Hidalgo García de Orellán, 53–71. Madrid: Tecnos, 2022. Bandy, Joe, and Jackie Smith. “Cooperation and Conflict in Transnational Protest.” In Coalitions Across Borders: Transnational Protest and the Neoliberal Order, edited by Joe Bandy and Jackie Smith, 1–17. Oxford: Rowman & Littlefield Promotions, 2005. Blanning, T.C.W. “Conclusion: The French Revolution and Beyond.” In The Eighteenth Century, 1688–1815, edited by T.C.W. Blanning, 247–54. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000. Bosi, Lorenzo, Niall Ó Dochartaigh, and Daniela Pisoiu. “Contextualising Political Violence.” In Political Violence in Context, edited by Lorenzo Bosi, Niall Ó Dochartaigh, and Daniela Pisoiu, 1–28. Colchester: ECPR Press, 2016. Casquete, Jesús. “Epic, memory and the making of an uncivil community.” In ETA’s Terrorist Campaign: From Violence to Politics, 1968–2015, edited by Rafael Leonisio, Fernando Molina, and Diego Muro, 87–102. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Casquete, Jesús. “Etxebarrieta, Txabi.” In Diccionario ilustrado de símbolos del nacionalismo vasco, edited by Santiago de Pablo, José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Ludger Mees, and Jesús Casquete, 270–81. Madrid: Tecnos, 2012. Casquete, Jesús, and José Luis de la Granja. “Ikurriña.” In Diccionario ilustrado de símbolos del nacionalismo vasco, edited by Santiago de Pablo, José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Ludger Mees, and Jesús Casquete, 508–31. Madrid: Tecnos, 2012. Charles-Edwards, Thomas M. “Origin Legends in Ireland and Great Britain.” In Origin Legends in Early Medieval Western Europe, edited by Linda Brady and Patrick Wadden, 46–74. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2022. Cohen, Irwin, and Raymond Corrado. “A Future for the ETA?” In Meeting the Challenges of Global Terrorism: Prevention, Control, and Recovery, edited by Dilip Das and Peter Kratcoski, 271–90. Oxford: Lexington Books, 2003. Cullen, Niall. “Héroes patrios irlandeses y vascos: Una mirada transnacional.” In Héroes y Villanos de la Patria, coordinated by Ludger Mees, 93–125. Madrid: Tecnos, 2020. De la Granja Sainz, José Luis. “Batallas de Arrigorriaga y Munguía.” In Diccionario ilustrado de símbolos del nacionalismo vasco, edited by Santiago de Pablo, José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Ludger Mees, and Jesús Casquete, 187–202. Madrid: Tecnos, 2012. De la Granja, José Luis, and Jesús Casquete. “Aberri Eguna.” In Diccionario ilustrado de símbolos del nacionalismo vasco, edited by Santiago de Pablo, José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Ludger Mees, and Jesús Casquete, 33–56. Madrid: Tecnos, 2012. De Pablo, Santiago. “Gallastegui, Eli.” In Diccionario ilustrado de símbolos del nacionalismo vasco, edited by Santiago de Pablo, José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Ludger Mees, and Jesús Casquete, 395–406. Madrid: Tecnos, 2012. Domínguez Iribarren, Florencio. “El Enfrentamiento de ETA con la democracia.” In La Historia de ETA, coordinated by Antonio Elorza, José María Garmendia, Gurutz Jáuregui, and Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, 277–420. Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 2000.

Bibliography  321 Douglass, William A. “Sabino’s Sin: Racism and the Founding of Basque Nationalism.” In Ethnonationalism in the Contemporary World: Walker Connor and the Study of Nationalism, edited by Daniele Conversi, 95–112. London and New York: Routledge, 2002. Elorza, Antonio. “Introducción. Vascos guerreros.” In La Historia de ETA, coordinated by Antonio Elorza, José María Garmendia, Gurutz Jáuregui, and Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, 13–76. Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 2000. Etxebarria Dueñas, Gorka. “Mantener la Hipótesis Revolucionaria: ETA(M) y el Otoño de los Setenta en Euskadi (1977–1978).” In Las otras Protagonistas de la Transición: Izquierda Radical y Movimientos Sociales, coordinated by Fundación Salvador Seguí-Madrid, 877–90. Madrid: FSS Ediciones, 2018. Falc’her-Poyroux, Erick. “The Great Famine in Ireland: A Linguistic and Cultural Disruption.” In La Grande Famine en Irlande, 1845–1850, edited by Yann Bévant, 225–42. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2014. Fernández Soldevilla, Gaizka. “ETA Político-Militar, de Principio a Fin.” In Héroes de la retirada: La disolución de ETA político-militar, coordinated by Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla and Sara Hidalgo García de Orellán, 133–67. Madrid: Tecnos, 2022. Fernández Soldevilla, Gaizka. “The origins of ETA: between Francoism and democracy, 1958–1981.” In ETA’s Terrorist Campaign: From Violence to Politics, 1968–2015, edited by Rafael Leonisio, Fernando Molina, and Diego Muro, 19–34. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Gallastegi Miñaur, Iker. “El año en Donibane.” In Los vientos favorables: Euskal Herria 1839–1959, edited by José Antonio Etxebarrieta Ortiz, rev. ed. edited by Jose Mari Lorenzo Espinosa and Mikel Zabala, 31–35. Tafalla: Txalaparta, 1999. Garmendia, José María. “ETA: Nacimiento, Desarrollo y Crisis (1959–1978).” In La Historia de ETA, coordinated by Antonio Elorza, José María Garmendia, Gurutz Jáuregui, and Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, 77–170. Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 2000. Givan, Rebecca Kolins, Kenneth M. Roberts, and Sarah A. Soule. “The Dimensions of Diffusion.” In The Diffusion of Social Movements: Actors, Mechanisms, and Political Effects, edited by Rebecca Kolins Givan, Kenneth M. Roberts, and Sarah A. Soule, 1–18. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Hopkinson, Michael. “The Guerrilla Phase and the End of the Civil War.” In Atlas of the Irish Revolution, edited by John Crowley, Donal Ó Drisceoil, Mike Murphy, and John Borgonovo, 703–15. Cork: Cork University Press, 2017. Jáuregui, Gurutz. “Basque nationalism: sovereignty, independence and European integration.” In European Integration and the Nationalities Question, edited by John McGarry and Michael Keating, 239–57. London and New York: Routledge, 2006. Jáuregui, Gurutz. “ETA: Orígenes y evolución ideológica y política.” In La Historia de ETA, coordinated by Antonio Elorza, José María Garmendia, Gurutz Jáuregui, and Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, 170–266. Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 2000. Keating, Michael. “Northern Ireland and the Basque Country.” In Northern Ireland and the Divided World: Post-Agreement Northern Ireland in Comparative Perspective, edited by John McGarry, 181–208. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Kennedy, Michael. “Leopold Kerney and Irish-Spanish diplomatic relations, 1935–6.” In Spanish–Irish Relations through the Ages, edited by Declan M. Downey and Julio Crespo MacLennan, 189–211. Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2008. Kennedy, Michael. “‘Mr Blythe, I think, Hears from him Occasionally’: The Experiences of Irish Diplomats in Latin America, 1919–23.” In Irish Foreign Policy,

322 Bibliography 1919–166: From Independence to Internationalism, edited by Michael Kennedy and Joseph Morrison Skelly, 44–60. Dublin; Four Courts Press, 2000. Lorenzo Espinosa, José María. “Influencia del nacionalismo irlandés en el nacionalismo vasco, 1916–1936.” In XI Congreso de Estudios Vascos. Nuevas formulaciones culturales: Euskal Herria y Europa, edited by Jacques Maurais, et al., 239–47. Donostia: Eusko Ikaskuntza, 1992. Martin, Eamonn. “Brendan Behan’s Quare World.” In Brendan Behan: Interviews and Recollections, vol. II, edited by E.H. Mikhail, 200–4. Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1982. McGarry, John. “The Comparable Northern Ireland.” In Northern Ireland and the Divided World: Post-Agreement Northern Ireland in Comparative Perspective, edited by John McGarry, 1–33. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. McKinley, Michael. “The International Dimensions of Terrorism in Ireland.” In Terrorism in Ireland, edited by Yonah Alexander and Alan O’Day, 3–31. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1984. Mees, Ludger. “A Nation in Search of a Name: Cultural Realties, Political Projects, and Terminological Struggles in the Basque Country.” In The Challenge of a Bilingual Society in the Basque Country, edited by Pello Salaburu and Xabier Alberdi, 11–32. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 2012. Mees, Ludger. “Transnational nationalism: the Basque exile in Barcelona-Paris-New York (1936–1946).” In The International Legacy of Lehendakari José A. Agirre’s Government, edited by Xabier Irujo and Mari José Olaziregi, 159–82. Reno: Center for Basque Studies, University of Nevada Press, 2017. Mitchell, G.F. “Prehistoric Ireland.” In The Course of Irish History, 5th ed, edited by T.W. Moody and F.X. Martin, 27–37. Cork: Mercier Press, 2011. Muro, Diego. “ETA during democracy, 1975–2011.” In ETA’s Terrorist Campaign: From Violence to Politics, 1968–2015, edited by Rafael Leonisio, Fernando Molina, and Diego Muro, 35–53. London and New York: Routledge, 2016. Nennius. “History of the Britons.” In Six old English chronicles, of which two are now translated from the monkish Latin originals: Ethelwerd’s Chronicle. Asser’s Life of Alfred. Geoffrey of Monmouth’s British history. Gildas, Nennius, and Richard of Cirencester, edited by John Allen Giles, 383–416. London: Bell & Daldy, 1848. Núñez Seixas, Xosé M. “Irlanda.” In Diccionario Ilustrado de Símbolos del Nacionalismo Vasco, edited by Santiago de Pablo, José Luis de la Granja Sainz, Ludger Mees, and Jesús Casquete, 547–62. Madrid: Tecnos, 2012. Núñez Seixas, Xosé M. “Relaciones exteriores del nacionalismo vasco (1895–1960).” In Los Nacionalistas. Historia del nacionalismo vasco, 1876–1960, edited by Santiago de Pablo, 381–417. Vitoria-Gasteiz: Fundación Sancho El Sabio, 1995. Ó Dochartaigh, Niall. “What Did the Civil Rights Movement Want? Changing Goals and Underlying Continuities in the Transition from Protest to Violence.” In The Troubles in Northern Ireland and Theories of Social Movements, edited by Lorenzo Bosi and Gianluca de Fazio, 33–52. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2017. O’Halpin, Eunan. “The Geopolitics of Republican Diplomacy in the twentieth century.” In From political violence to negotiated settlement: The winding path to peace in twentieth-century Ireland, edited by Maurice J. Bric and John Coakley, 81–98. Dublin: University College Dublin Press, 2004. Pragnère, Pascal. “Exporter la guerre – importer la paix: Dimensions transnationales de deux conflits nationalistes. Irlande du Nord, Pays Basque.” In La France et l´Irlande: destins croisés 16e-21e siécles, edited by Catherine Maignant, 195–210. Lille: CECILLE – Université Lille, 2012.

Bibliography  323 Unzueta, Patxo. “Regreso a casa. (Ayer y Hoy).” In La Historia de ETA, coordinated by Antonio Elorza, José María Garmendia, Gurutz Jáuregui, and Florencio Domínguez Iribarren, 421–39. Madrid: Temas de Hoy, 2000. Waldmann, Peter. “The Radical Community: A Comparative Analysis of the Social Background of ETA, IRA, and Hezbollah.” In Tangled Roots: Social and Psychological Factors in the Genesis of Terrorism, edited by Jeffrey Ivan Victoroff, 133–46. Amsterdam: IOS Press, 2006. Watson, Cameron. “Imagining ETA.” In Basque Politics and Nationalism on the Eve of the Millennium, edited by William A. Douglas, Carmelo Urza, Linda White, and Joseba Zulaika, 99–114. Reno: University of Nevada Press, 1999. Whelan, Kevin. “The other within: Ireland, Britain and the Act of Union.” In Acts of Union: The causes, contexts, and consequences of the Act of Union, edited by Dáire Keogh and Kevin Whelan, 13–33. Dublin: Four Courts Press, 2001.

Journal Articles Alonso Acero, Beatriz. “El siglo XVII.” International Review of Military History, no. 92 (2014): 43–82. Alonso, Rogelio. “Pathways Out of Terrorism in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country: The Misrepresentation of the Irish Model.” Terrorism and Political Violence 16, no. 4 (2004): 695–713. Alonso, Rogelio. “The International Dimension of ETA’s Terrorism and the Internationalization of the Conflict in the Basque Country.” Democracy and Security 7, no. 2 (2011): 184–204. Asal, Victor, and Karl R. Rethemeyer, “The Nature of the Beast: Organizational Structures and the Lethality of Terrorist Attacks.” The Journal of Politics 70, no. 2 (2008): 437–49. Bacon, Tricia. “Alliance Hubs: Focal Points in the International Terrorist Landscape.” Perspectives on Terrorism 8, no. 4 (2014): 4–26. Bapat, Navin A, and Kanisha D. Bond. “Alliances Between Militant Groups.” British Journal of Political Science 2, no. 4 (October 2012): 793–824. Barkham, Michael M. “The Spanish Basque Irish Fishery & Trade in the Sixteenth Century.” History Ireland 9, no. 3 (Autumn, 2001): 12–15. Bean, Kevin, and Mark Hayes, “Sinn Féin and the New Republicanism in Ireland: Electoral Progress, Political Stasis, and Ideological Failure.” Radical History Review 104 (Spring 2009): 126–42. Blinkhorn, Martin. “‘The Basque Ulster’: Navarre and the Basque Autonomy Question under the Spanish Second Republic.” The Historical Journal 17, no. 3 (1974): 595–613. Cavalli-Sforza, Luigi Luca. “The Basque population and ancient migrations in Europe.” MUNIBE (Antropología y Arqueología), no. 6 (1988): 129–37. Chenoweth, Erica, “Democratic Competition and Terrorist Activity.” The Journal of Politics 72, no. 1 (2010): 16–30. Conversi, Daniele. “Domino Effect or International Developments? The Influences of International Events and Political Ideologies on Catalan and Basque Nationalism.” West European Politics 16, no.3 (1993): 245–70. Costigan, Giovanni. “Romantic Nationalism: Ireland and Europe.” Irish University Review 3, no. 2 (1973): 141–52. Cox, Michael. “Bringing in the ‘international’: the IRA ceasefire and the end of the Cold War.” International Affairs 74, no. 3 (1997): 671–93.

324 Bibliography Cullen, Niall. “‘No Time for Love’: Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations and the Emergence of a Shared Political Culture (1981–98).” Araucaria 24, no. 50 (2022): 229–53. Cullen, Niall. “‘Oh Ireland! What a Disappointment You Have Been to the Basque People’: Irish Non-Intervention in the Spanish Civil War.” Society 58, no. 2 (May 2021): 104–11. Cullen, Niall, and Kyle McCreanor. “‘Dangerous Friends’: Irish Republican Relations with Basque and Catalan Nationalists, 1916–26.” The International History Review 44, no. 6 (2022): 1193–210. Cullinane, Liam. “‘A happy blend’? Irish republicanism, political violence and social agitation, 1962–69.” Saothar 35 (2010): 49–65. De la Granja Sainz, José Luis. “Una autocrítica del Nacionalismo Vasco tras la dictadura de Primo de Rivera: El manifiesto del comité pro-resurgimiento vasco (1930).” Bilduma, no. 3 (1989): 185–209. Delaney, Enda, and Fearghal McGarry. “Introduction: A Global History of the Irish Revolution.” Irish Historical Studies xliv (2020): 1–10. Delaporte, Victor. “‘Existe-t-il un axe Paris-Madrid de la répression?’ Coopérations et rivalités nationales et internationales au sujet des exilés politiques français et espagnols (1959–1964).” Revue d’histoire moderne & contemporaine 68-1, no. 1 (2021): 49–71. Delgado Cendagortagalarza, Ander. “El fuerismo, el Home Rule Bill y la política británica: el contexto internacional en los inicios del movimiento nacionalista vasco (1890–1903),” Historia Contemporánea, no. 25 (2002): 289–317. Douglas, William A., and Joseba Zulaika. “On the Interpretation of Terrorist Violence: ETA and the Basque Political Process.” Comparative Studies in Society and History 32, no. 2 (1990): 238–57. Dowd, Marion, and Ruth F. Carden. “First evidence of a Late Upper Palaeolithic human presence in Ireland.” Quaternary Science Reviews 139 (2016): 158–63. Downey, Declan M. “Beneath the Harp and Burgundian Cross: Irish Regiments in the Spanish Bourbon Army, 1700–1818.” International Review of Military History, no. 92 (2014): 83–105. Duhart, Philippe. “Directing Disengagement Movement Centralization, Coordination, and Credibility in the Irish and Basque Peace Processes.” European Journal of Sociology 57, no. 1 (2016): 31–63. English, Richard. “History and Irish nationalism.” Irish Historical Studies 37, no. 147 (May 2011): 447–60. Fannin, Samuel. “Documents of Irish interest in Archivo de la Diputación Foral de Bizkaia (Bilbao).” Archivium Hibernicum 64 (2011): 170–93. Fernández Soldevilla, Gaizka. “De Aberri a ETA por Venezuela: Rupturas y continuidades en el nacionalismo vasco radical (1921–1977).” Bulletin d’Historie Contemporaine de l’Espagne, no. 51 (2017): 219–64. Fernández Soldevilla, Gaizka. “Dossier II. 1961, la primera operación policial contra ETA.” Quadernos de criminología: revista de criminología y ciencias forenses, no. 4 (2018): 26–31. Frampton, Martyn. “‘Squaring the circle’: the foreign policy of Sinn Féin, 1983– 1989.” Irish Political Studies 19, no. 2 (2004): 43–63. Gerwarth, Robert, and Heinz-Gerhart Haupt. “Internationalising Historical Research on Terrorist Movements.” European Review of History 14, no. 3 (2007): 275–81. Guelke, Adrian. “The Peace Process in South Africa, Israel and Northern Ireland: A Farewell to Arms?” Irish Studies in International Affairs 5 (1994): 93–106.

Bibliography  325 Hadfield, Andrew. “Briton and Scythian: Tudor Representations of Irish Origins.” Irish Historical Studies 28, no. 112 (1993): 390–408. Hanley, Brian. “‘Oh here’s to Adolph Hitler’? … The IRA and the Nazis.” History Ireland 13, no. 3 (May/June 2005): 31–35. Hanley, Brian. “‘The needs of the people’: the IRA considers its future, 1967/68.” Saothar 38 (2013). Hanley, Brian. “The Politics of NORAID,” Irish Political Studies 19, no. 1 (2004): 1–17. Hanley, Brian. “Very Dangerous Places: IRA Gunrunning and the Post-War Underworld.” History Ireland (March 2019): 23–26. Hanley, Brian. “Who fears to speak of 1916?” History Ireland (March-April 2015): 10–11. Horowitz, Michael C., and Philip B.K. Potter. “Allying to Kill: Terrorist Intergroup Cooperation and the Consequences for Lethality.” Journal of Conflict Resolution 58, no. 2 (2014): 199–215. Howe, Stephen. “AFTERWORD: Transnationalisms Good, Bad, Real, Imagined, Thick and Thin.” Interventions 4, no. 1 (2002): 79–88. Ibarzabal, Eugenio. “Así nació ETA.” Muga, no. 1 ( June 1979): 76–89. Ibarzabal, Eugenio. “Ayer y Hoy de Federico Krutwig.” Muga, no. 2 (September 1979): 50–68. Ibarzabal, Eugenio. “Lezo de Urreiztieta, un aberriano.” Muga, no. 4 (March 1980): 15–16. Knirck, Jason. “Irish Revolution and World History: Nation, Race, and Civilization in the Rhetoric of the Irish Revolutionary Generation.” Éire-Ireland 52, nos. 3 & 4 (Fall/Winter 2017): 157–89. Leonisio, Rafael. “Basque Patriotic Left: Fifty Years of Political and Terrorist Acronyms.” Revista de Investigaciones Políticas y Sociológicas 14, no. 1 (2015): 83–104. López Romo, Raúl, and Gaizka Fernández Soldevilla. “Deuda de sangre: La visión del pasado de ETA y el IRA.” APORTES. Revista de Historia Contemporánea 33, no. 97 (2018): 267–94. López Romo, Raul, and Bárbara Van der Leeuw. “Forjando nación desde abajo: violencia e identidades en el País Vasco y el Ulster.” Cuadernos de Historia Contemporánea 35 (2013): 15–39. Maillot, Agnès. “Comrades in Arms: Sinn Féin and Basque Separatism.” Nordic Irish Studies 4 (2005): 1–12. McCreanor, Kyle. “Ireland, the Basques and the Spanish Civil War.” Irish Historical Studies 46, no. 169 (2022): 136–54. McKevitt, Kerry Ann. “Mythologizing Identity and History: A Look at the Celtic Past of Galicia.” Journal of Interdisciplinary Celtic Studies 6 (2006): 651–73. McKinley, Michael. “Of ‘Alien Influences’: Accounting and Discounting for the International Contacts of the Provisional Irish Republican Army.” Conflict Quarterly 11, no. 3 (1991): 7–35. Mees, Ludger. “Constructing and deconstructing national heroes: A Basque case study.” Studies on National Movements 3 (2015): 1–35. Mees, Ludger. “Ethnogenesis in the Pyrenees: The Contentious Making of a National Identity in the Basque Country (1643–2017).” European History Quarterly 48, no. 3 ( July 2018): 462–89. Mees, Ludger. “Nationalist Politics at the Crossroads: The Basque Nationalist Party and the Challenge of Sovereignty (1998–2014).” Nationalism and Ethnic Politics 21, no. 1 (2015): 44–62.

326 Bibliography Mees, Ludger. “Politics, Economy, or Culture? The Rise and Development of Basque Nationalism in the Light of Social Movement Theory.” Theory and Society 33, no. 3/4 ( June–August 2004): 311–31. Mohr, Thomas. “Irish Home Rule and Constitutional Reform in the British Empire, 1885–1914.” Revue Française de Civilisation Britannique. French Journal of British Studies XXIV-2 (2019). Ní Lionáin, Clíodhna. “Lebor Gabála Érenn: The Use and Appropriation of an Irish Origin Legend in Identity Construction at Home and Abroad.” Archaeological Review from Cambridge 27, no. 2 (2012): 33–50. Núñez Seixas, Xosé M. “Ecos de Pascua, Mitos Rebeldes: El Nacionalismo Vasco e Irlanda (1890–1939).” Historia Contemporánea, no. 55 (October 2017): 447–82. Núñez Seixas, Xosé M. “El mito del nacionalismo irlandés y su influencia en los nacionalismos gallego, vasco y catalán (1880–1936).” Spagna Contemporanea, no. 2 (1992): 25–58. Ó Dochartaigh, Niall. “‘Everyone Trying’, the IRA Ceasefire, 1975: A Missed Opportunity for Peace?” Field Day Review 7 (2011): 50–77. O’Driscoll, Mervyn, and Dermot Keogh. “Ireland’s military engagement in Spain and Hispano-Irish military cooperation in the twentieth and twenty first centuries.” International Review of Military History, no. 92 (2014): 135–93. O’Leary, Brendan. “Mission Accomplished? Looking Back at the IRA.” Field Day Review 1 (2005): 217–46. Picard, Robert G. “How Violence Is Justified: Sinn Féin’s An Phoblacht.” Journal of Communication 41, no. 4, (1991): 90–103. Reynolds, Chris. “The Collective European Memory of 1968: The Case of Northern Ireland.” Etudes irlandaises 36, no. 1 (2011): 1–17. Rolston, Bill. “‘The Brothers on the Walls’: International Solidarity and Irish Political Murals.” Journal of Black Studies 39, no. 3 (2009): 446–70. Rostow, Nicholas. “Before and after: The Changed UN Response to Terrorism Since September 11th.” Cornell International Law Journal 35, no. 3 (Winter 2002): 475–90. Sánchez-Cuenca, Ignacio. “The Dynamics of Nationalist Terrorism: ETA and the IRA.” Terrorism and Political Violence 19, no. 3 (2007): 289–306. Soler Parício, Pere. “Irlanda y el País Vasco durante la Guerra Civil española.” Sancho el Sabio, no. 45 (2022): 99–132. Turano, Leslie. “Spain: Banning political parties as a response to Basque terrorism.” International Journal of Constitutional Law 1, no. 4 (October 2003): 730–40. Whelan, Barry. “The experience of Basque dissidents in Ireland during the Second World War.” International Journal of Iberian Studies 26, no. 3 (2013): 201–10. White, Robert W. “‘I’m not too sure what I told you the last time’. Methodological notes on accounts of high-risk activists in the Irish republican movement.” Mobilization: An International Quarterly Review 12, no. 3 (1993): 287–305. Woodworth, Paddy. “Ireland and the Basque Country.” History Ireland 9, no. 3 (Autumn 2001). Woodworth, Paddy. “The Basque Country: the heart of Spain, a part of Spain, or Somewhere Else Altogether.” Studies in 20th & 21st Century Literature 33, no. 2 (2009). Zabalo, Julen, and Mikel Saratxo. “ETA ceasefire: Armed struggle vs. political practice in Basque nationalism.” Ethnicities 15, no. 3 (2015): 362–84.

Bibliography  327 PhD Dissertations Álvarez, Amaia. “Transitional justice in settled democracies: Northern Ireland and the Basque Country in comparative perspective.” PhD diss., University of the Basque Country, 2017. Bacon, Tricia. “Strange Bedfellows or Brothers-In-Arms: Why Terrorist Groups Ally.” PhD diss., Georgetown University, 2013. Bond, Kanisha D. “Power, Identity, Credibility & Cooperation: Examining the Development of Cooperative Arrangements among Violent Non-State Actors.” PhD diss., Pennsylvania State University, 2010. Cullen, Niall. “Gora Rebeldiak! A History of Radical Basque Nationalist-Irish Republican Relations.” PhD diss., University of the Basque Country, 2020. Duhart, Philippe. “Between Ballots and Bullets: Armed Struggle and Peacemaking in Northern Ireland and the Basque Country.” PhD diss., University of California, 2017. Farwell, Aritz. “Borne Before the Moone: A Social and Political History of Basque at the Dawn of the Twentieth Century.” PhD diss., University of the Basque Country, 2015. Kerr, Stephanie. “Violence, de-escalation and Nationalism: Northern Ireland and the Basque Country compared.” PhD diss., University of Ottawa, 2016. Pragnère, Pascal. “National identities in conflict and peace process. A comparative analysis of Northern Ireland and the Basque Country, 1968–2011.” PhD diss., University College Dublin, 2013. Soler Parício, Pere. “Irlanda y la guerra civil Española. Nuevas perspectivas de estudio.” PhD diss., Universitat de Barcelona, 2013. Whelan, Barry. “Ireland and Spain, 1939–55: Cultural, Economic and Political Relations from Neutrality in the Second World War to Joint Membership of the United Nations.”, PhD diss., National University of Ireland Maynooth, 2012.

MA Theses McCreanor, Kyle. “Ireland and the Basque Country: Nationalisms in Contact, 1895– 1939.” MA thesis, Concordia University, 2019. McHugh, James Peter. “Voices of the rearguard: a study of An Phoblacht: Irish Republican thought in the post-revolutionary era, 1923–1937.” MA thesis, University College Dublin, 1983.

Other Works Alberro, Manuel. “Milesians and Alans in the Northwest of the Iberian Peninsula and the Mythical Invasion of Ireland.” Proceedings of the Harvard Celtic Colloquium, no. 23 (2003): 1–20. Espiau Idoiga, Gorka. “The Peace Processes in the Basque Country and Northern Ireland (1994–2006): A Comparative Approach.” International Catalan Institute for Peace, Working Paper, no. 3 (May 2010). Hanley, Brian. “The Ireland of our ideals.” Paper delivered at ‘Proclaiming the revolution’ conference, NUI Galway, 22 January 2015. Institute of Political Science, Louvain-Europe. “Peace Processes in Community Conflicts: From Understanding the Roots of Conflicts to Conflict Resolution. Deliverable 2. Second Draft. Community Conflicts in Europe: A Review of the

328 Bibliography Literature  – Mapping Conflict Dimensions.” https://cdn.uclouvain.be/public/ Exports%20reddot/spri/documents/Deliverable_1_PEACE-COM.pdf. McGrath, Sam. “The story of Jack Prendergast: The only known Irish soldier of the Basque army.” In ‘Gernika Then and Now: 80 years of Basque-Irish anti-fascist struggles’, 28–29 (Dublin: Gernika 80 Committee, 2017). Tazón, Juan E., and Urbano Viñuela Angulo. “‘Caliban’s’ choice in the ‘Irish Tempest’.” Proceedings of the II Conference of SEDERI (1992): 321–29.

Frequently Consulted Websites www.api.parliament.uk www.anphoblacht.com www.arnaldotegi.eus www.arovite.com www.ark.ac.uk www.aunamendi.eusko-ikaskuntza.eus www.bbc.co.uk www.bureauofmilitaryhistory.ie www.cain.ulst.ac.uk www.cedarlounge.wordpress.com www.clririshleftarchive.org www.comeheretome.com www.counterpunch.org www.difp.ie www.euskadi.eus www.euskalmemoriadigitala.eus www.leftarchive.ie www.indymedia.ie www.irishbasquecommittees.blogspot.com www.libertaddigital.com www.liburuklik.euskadi.eus www.memorialvt.com www.nationalarchives.gov.uk www.newleftreview.org www.nortedeirlanda.blogspot.com www.oireachtas.ie www.opendemocracy.net www.poltico.eu www.rte.ie www.sinnfein.ie www.sinnfeinkeepleft.blogspot.com www.sinnfeinrepyouth.blogspot.com www.sluggerotoole.com www.thebrokenelbow.com www.thepensivequill.com www.writingthetroublesweb.wordpress.com

Index

Note: Page numbers in italics refer to figures. Page numbers followed by “n” refer to notes. 11-M see Madrid train bombings (2004) 18/98 macro-(judicial) process 240 ABC 215 Aberri 40, 43, 51, 53, 54, 80 aberrianismo 62, 82, 83 aberrianos 43, 45, 46, 51–52, 54, 55, 56, 60, 62, 63, 82, 83, 127 Aberri Eguna (Day of the Fatherland) 62, 125, 227, 228, 238n152 Abertzale Sozialista Komiteak (Patriotic Socialist Committees) 160 abstentionism 61, 101, 136–37, 147, 183n4, 195, 200, 201 Acción Nacionalista Vasca (ANV, Basque Nationalist Action) 62, 66, 80, 89n99, 160 Acland, Antony 171 Action Directe (Direct Action), France 199 Act of Union (1800) 10, 11, 25 Adams, Gerry 4, 141, 177, 195, 196, 197, 198, 201, 203, 204, 209, 212, 214, 217, 219, 221, 222– 23, 233n42, 237n130, 239, 241, 242, 243, 245, 249, 257, 261, 264, 269, 270–71, 279, 282, 285, 286, 288, 296n42 Aden Statement of January 1971 142–43 Adrian IV, Pope 20 Afghanistan, US-led invasion of 247 African National Congress (ANC) 197, 214, 250, 251, 255, 261, 287, 288, 293, 306 Age of Modernity 8, 16n25

Agirreazkuenaga, Joseba 8, 24 Agnew, Paddy 195 Aguirre, Esther 224, 241 Aguirre, José Antonio 63, 68, 69, 70, 75, 90n133, 92n167, 100, 104, 105, 108 Aguirre, José Manuel 99–100 Aguirreche, Ángel 80 Ahern, Bertie 4, 279, 283, 284–85 Aiartza, Urko 261 Aiken, Frank 54, 112 Ailtirí na hAiséirghe (Architects of the Resurrection) 114 Álava (Basque province) 6, 7, 68 Alderdi 111, 116, 119 Alfabetatze eta Euskalduntze Koordinakundea (Coordinator of Basque Language and Literacy) 224 Alfonso XIII 54, 156 Algeria 102, 112, 115, 118, 127, 145, 204, 256 Alonso, Carlos 268 Alonso, Rogelio 172, 261 al-Qaida 247, 256 Alternativa Democrática (Democratic Alternative) 216–17, 219 Altsasu Declaration 280 Álvarez, Joseba 219–20, 249, 258–59 Álvarez, José Luis (Txelis) 212 Álvarez Enparantza, José Luis (Txillardegi) 110, 116–17, 120, 121, 122, 138, 200 Amézaga, Patxi 105, 106 Anderson, Benedict 16n25 Angevin Empire 9, 20

330 Index Anglican Church of Ireland 10, 11 Anglo-Irish Agreement (1985) 199, 230, 307 Anglo-Irish Treaty (1921) 12, 48–49, 50, 52, 54, 63, 64, 67, 179 Anglophilia 30 Annan, Kofi 4, 244 Años de Plomo (Years of Lead), Spain 157 An Phoblacht 62, 67, 144, 162, 186n64, 252, 260, 262, 269, 270 An Phoblacht/Republican News (AP/ RN) 168, 175, 197, 202, 207, 211, 214, 224, 226, 227, 228, 229, 240, 241, 251–52, 272 Ansola, José Luis 154 anti-colonialism/anti-imperialism 101–2, 117–18, 127, 152, 182, 306 Anti-Imperialist Festival: 1974 151–53; 1976 158–59 Antza, Mikel 257 Aparato Internacional (International Apparatus), ETA 154, 174, 197 ‘approach, a problem, an opinion, An’ pamphlet (Etxebarrieta) 110 Arana, Luis 27, 41, 77–78 Arana, Sabino 8, 9, 26, 27, 30, 62, 74, 228 Ardanza, José Antonio 213 Árd-Rí na hÉireann (High King of Ireland) 9 Areilza, José María 156 Argentina 33, 44, 49–51, 54, 55, 61–62, 120 Argitzen 277, 278, 281, 287, 292 Arias Navarro, Carlos 156 Arizkuren, José Javier (Kantauri) 247 Armando, Diego 268 Armée Républicaine Bretonne/Armée Révolutionnaire Bretonne (ARB) 143, 144, 185n34 arms: alleged exchanges, between ETA and IRA 167, 174, 181, 246, 247; exportation 58–59; procurement, by PIRA 145–46, 149, 201–2 Arregi, Joseba (Fitipaldi) 212 Arrigorriaga 85n10 Arzalluz, Xabier 242, 243 Askapena (Liberty) 208, 209, 211, 224, 272, 273 Askatasuna 248 Askatzen 234n65

Asociación Euskara de Navarra, La (Basque Association of Navarre) 26 Asunción, Antoni 213 asymmetricity, Basque-Irish 32–33, 35, 62, 82, 84, 127, 180, 289, 309–10 Atkins, Humphrey 170 Atutxa, Juan María 217 Audiencia Nacional (National Court), Spain 248, 259 Augstin-Chaho, Joseph 37n37 Aznar, José María 219, 244, 246, 247, 252, 290 Bacon, Tricia 305, 308 Baena, José Humberto 155 Bandrés, Juan María 160, 167, 170, 177 Barrena, Pernando 207–8, 209, 213, 224, 251, 252, 256, 257, 264, 269, 277, 280, 290 Barrionuevo, José 197 Barron, Joseph 112 Basic Democratic Agreement (BDA, Oinarrizko Hitzarmen Demokratikoa) 261–63 Basque Autonomous Community (BAC) 156, 179, 196; regional election (1980) 196; regional election (1984) 196; regional election (1998) 243 Basque Clubs (Argentina) 49–50 Basque Country 5, 6–9, 16n19, 25, 47, 68, 72, 126, 183; Basque ‘contention’ thesis 165, 190n138; Basque-English relations 30; Basque-Irish analogies 23–24, 26, 30–31, 34, 48, 103, 122, 172, 257; BasqueIrish commonalities 23–24, 28; Basque origins of Irish people thesis 20–21, 22–23, 35n7; and Downing Street Declaration (DSD) 213–14, 310; ethnoparticularism 27; intra-Basque political party talks (2006) 266, 267; linguistic and cultural revival movements in 26; selfdetermination 142, 165, 200, 202, 205, 216, 218, 231, 239, 242, 254, 256, 271, 272, 306; tour of Martin to 51–52, 65–66, 89n112, 310; workers’ strikes (1947, 1951) 96

Index  331 Basque Friendship Group (BFG) 262– 63, 265, 291, 298n87 Basque Independence Youth Movement 252 Basque National Liberation Movement 142–43 Basque patriots of Zarautz 96–97 Basque question 8, 206, 264 Basques, The (documentary) 197 Basque Solidarity Committees (BSC) 257, 271–73, 272; see also Irish Basque Committee; Irish-Basque Solidarity Committee (Eire/ Euskal Herria Solidarity Group) Basque Ulster 157, 179 Basque Week (2006), Galway 273 ¡Basta Ya! (Enough Already!) 277 Batasuna (Unity) 248, 249, 250, 254, 255, 257, 258, 261, 262, 263, 264, 265, 266, 267, 268, 269, 271, 276, 279, 280, 290, 291–92 Bateragune case 280, 283, 300n157 Battle of Kinsale 21 Battle of the Bogside (1969) 126 Batzarre (Assembly) 243 Bearn (French province) 99 Behal, Richard 147, 149, 153, 154, 161, 172, 175, 176–77, 183 Behan, Brendan 116 Beihl, Eugen 138, 139, 140 Belfast 73, 101, 124, 125, 136, 140–41, 207, 210, 211; Anti-Imperialist Festival 151–53, 158–59; AntiInternment Rally 207, 209, 229; Basque Solidarity Committee 275; Bloody Friday (1972) 141, 166; Féile an Phobail (Festival of the People) 207, 209, 229; International Wall 281; protests (August 1969) 126, 140; Shankill Road bombing (1993) 212 Belfast City Council 195 Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement (GFA) of 1998 4, 196, 221–22, 223, 231, 239, 240, 249, 252, 259, 264, 289, 292, 303, 306 Belfast Telegraph 274 Bell, Ivor 141 Belton, Patrick 71, 72, 91n142 Beñaran, José Miguel (Argala) 154, 174 Benito del Valle, José María 99–100, 120 Beotegui, Pedro Ignacio Pérez (Wilson) 138, 154–55, 180, 188n103

Bergara, Josu 175 Bertrand Russell Tribunal 167 Bhreatnach, Lucilita 199 Bildu (Gather) 283 Biltzar Ttipia (Little Assembly), ETA 138 Biscay (Basque province) 6, 7, 9, 22, 25, 26, 27, 47, 97, 129n10; bombing of Gernika 73–74; conference on Irish peace process in Bilbao (1995) 217–18; migration of Spaniards to 8; and Spanish Civil War 68; tour of Martin to 51 Biscayan Provincial Council 24 Bishop, Patrick 180 Bizkaitarra 41 Blair, Tony 221, 244, 269 Blanco, Miguel Ángel 220, 228 Blanco, Pedro Antonio 245 Bloody Friday (1972) 141, 166 Bloody Sunday (1972) 140, 184n22 Boland, Bridget 92n163 Boland, Gerald 78 Bonaparte, Napoléon 24 Bond, Kanisha D. 308, 309 Borrell, Josep 223 Boston Globe, The 265 Bowles, William (Guillermo) 23 Branka 122, 138 Breatnach, Deasún 114–15, 127, 128 Breatnach, Diarmuid 272, 273 Breatnach, Lucy 114 Brennan, Robert 46, 47 Breogán 20 Brest Charter (Charter of Brest, 1974) 151, 153, 158, 159, 163, 164, 166, 180 Bretons 120, 123, 133n96, 139, 143, 145 Brigada de Investigación Social (Secret Police) 125 Brighton bombing (1984) 195 Britain 22, 24, 26, 38n47, 50, 74, 116, 122, 127, 161, 171, 182–83, 205, 222, 307; Anglo-Irish Agreement (1985) 199, 230, 307; Anglo-Irish Treaty (1921) 12, 48–49, 50, 52, 54, 63, 64, 67, 179; Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement (GFA) of 1998 4, 196, 221–22, 223, 231, 239, 240, 249, 252, 259, 264, 289, 292, 303, 306; Brighton bombing (1984)

332 Index 195; decolonisation 101, 102; Downing Street Declaration (DSD) 213–14, 230, 264, 310; Economic War with Ireland 64, 67; and H-Block Hunger Strikes (1980, 1981) 1, 174–76, 192n188, 207; Hume-Adams statements 212, 213; and Irish question 29, 30, 43, 44; London ‘Docklands bombing’ (1996) 220, 269, 271; Manchester bombing (1996) 269; Operation Motorman 166; Peninsula War 24; PNV admiration for 30; propaganda of 45, 46; relations with Basques 30; relations with Spain during Transition 156; St Andrew’s Agreement (2006) 259; and Spanish Civil War 75, 76, 77; withdrawal from Ireland 141, 166, 223; see also Easter Rising (1916) British Army 12, 39, 126, 140, 141, 166 Brooke, Peter 205, 231, 234n53 Brouard, Santi 163, 197 Brown, Stephen J. 72 Bruton, John 269 Buckley, Margaret 101 Bulfin, Eamon 49, 50, 54 Burgos Trial (1970) 138–40, 142, 144, 146, 180, 272 Burke, Christy 200 Bush, George W. 247 Byrne, Dan 81 Caballero, Tomás 220 Cafetería Rolando bombing (1974) 153 Camiña, José 80 Campbell, Brian 224–25 Campión, Arturo 111 Captive Voice, The/An Glor Gafa 208, 234n65 Carlist Wars 8, 16–17n27; First Carlist War (1833–1840) 23, 29; Second Carlist War (1846–1849) 29; Third Carlist War (1872–1876) 24, 25–26 Carlos IV 22 Carr, Edward Hallett 5 Carrero, Luis 148, 149–50, 154, 158–59 Carron, Owen 195 Carthy, Matt 253 Casanova, Iker 178 Casement, Roger 41, 43

Caso, José Luis 220 Casquete, Jesús 228 Castells, Miguel 198 Castile 7, 21 Catalan Mosso d’Esquadra (Catalan Police Force) 254 Catalans/Catalonia 47, 48, 55, 56, 57–58, 60–61, 72, 202, 219 Cathleen ni Houlihan 63 Catholic Association 25 Catholic Relief Act (1829) 25 Catholics/Catholicism 10, 11, 22, 25, 75, 95, 96, 124, 157, 212, 239 Celtic League 115, 123, 133n96 Cercle Français Irlande (French Ireland Club) 57 Chalkley, Keith 154 Chichester-Clark, James 125, 141 Childers, Erskine 45 civil rights 124, 125 Clan na Gael (Family of Gaels) 11 Clann na Poblachta (Family of the Republic) 112 Coiste na hIarmchí 260 Cold War 96, 173, 204–5, 206 Collins, Eamonn 213 Colombia 3 248–49 Comandos Autónomos Anticapitalistas (CAA, Autonomous Anticapitalist Commandos) 157, 189n110 Combined Loyalist Military Command 215 Comité pro-resurgimiento vasco (Basque resurgence committee) 62 Comités Vascos de Europea (Basque Committees of Europe) 155 communism 58, 63, 69, 71, 72, 104, 123, 142 Communist Party of Ireland (CPI) 123 Communist Workers League of Britain (Marxist-Leninist) 139 Comunión Nacionalista Vasca (CNV, Basque Nationalist Communion) 41, 43, 44–45, 62, 82; and Primo de Rivera dictatorship 54; shift in attitude towards Irish revolutionaries 47 comunitarios 45, 46, 62 Confitería VascoIrlandesa (Basque-Irish Confectionary) 62 Connolly, Aine 209 Connolly, James 83 Connolly, Niall 248, 249, 296n42

Index  333 Consejo General Vasco (CGV, Basque General Council) 162–63, 168 Constitution of Cádiz (1812) 8 Conversi, Daniele 103 Coogan, Tim Pat 14n4 Cooney, Eamon 68 Cooney, Patrick 68 Corporals Killings (1988) 203 Cortina & Co 67 Cosgrave, Liam 155 Cosgrave, William T. 64 Costello, Seamus 108 Coyle, Eithne 64, 65 Crossmaglen bombing (1970) 141 Culbert, Michael 260–61, 288 culture: Basque 16n22, 26; cultural revival movements 26–27; Gaelic 9; Irish 27 Cumann na mBan (Women’s League) 52, 58, 64, 65, 201 Cumann na nGaedheal (League of Gaels) 63 Currin, Brian 261 Curtis, Robert 141 Cusack, Jim 249–50 Cymru Goch (Red Wales) 158 Cyprus 101, 118, 127 d’Abbadie, Antoine 26 Dáil Éireann (Irish Assembly) 48, 112, 195, 200, 203; First (1919) 44; Seventh (1932) 63 Dáil Publicity Office 45 Daily Express 140 Daily Telegraph, The 149 de Ajuriaguerra, Juan 91n141 de Aranzadi, Engracio 40, 41 de Ariztimuño, José 66, 71 de Basaldúa, Pedro 76 de Borbón, Juan Carlos see Juan Carlos I de Brún, Bairbre 198, 208, 250–51, 261, 262, 265, 275, 280, 282, 283, 286, 288, 289, 291, 293, 296n48 decolonisation 101, 102 de Eguileor, Manuel 51, 80 de Eleizalde, Luis 30, 41 de Estella, Bernardino 64 de Gaulle, Charles 112 de Goitia, Francisco 26 de Juana Chaos, Iñaki 274–76, 292 de la Granja Sainz, José Luis 89n99, 228, 238n152 de Landáburu, Francisco de Javier 76

de la Sota, Manuel 46 de la Sota, Ramón 46–47 de Leizaola, Jesús María 104 de Lizana, José María 26 de Mendialdua, Daniel 70–71 Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) 259 de Orrantia, Cosme 60, 80 de Pablo, Santiago 56 Derry 125, 126, 136, 140, 166 de Urreiztieta, Lezo 73, 77–78 de Valera, Éamon 44, 46, 48, 50, 54–55, 58, 63–64, 65, 66–67, 72, 74, 79, 80, 88n77, 92n167, 95, 102, 116, 127; formation of Fianna Fáil 61; and League of Oppressed Nations 56–57; letter from Basque patriots of Zarautz to 96–97; and Spanish Civil War 70, 75, 76, 78, 79, 82 Devlin, Bernadette 139 Díez, Rafa 280, 300n157 Dillon, John Talbot 23 Dillon, Martin 145 Doherty, Kieran 195 Doherty, Pat 221 Domínguez, Florencio 174, 244, 246, 247, 274, 277, 292, 309 Donaldson, Denis 198 Donaldson, Samuel 141 Don Carlos (de Borbón) 8, 16n27, 25–26 Donnelly, Charlie 77 ‘Don’t Extradite the Basques’ campaign 275–76 Douglas-Home, Alec 139 Downing Street Declaration (DSD) 213–14, 230, 264, 310 Doyle, Bob 77 Dublin 11, 12, 33, 44, 54–55, 69, 123, 155, 167; Anti-Imperialist Festival 151–53, 158–59; Basque Solidarity Committee 271–72; Engineer’s Hall meetings 71; European Political Prisoners Conference (1979) 170, 174 Duhart, Philippe 279 Easter Rising (1916) 1, 2, 12, 39–42, 45, 56, 82, 83, 85n10, 94n201, 111, 123, 124, 227, 228, 309 Easter Sunday 227, 228 Echevarría, Juan Manuel 138 Economic War (Ireland–Britain) 64, 67 Education Act (1947), UK 124

334 Index Egea, Francisco 256 Egin 167, 240 Egizan (Do It) 209 Eguiguren, Jesús 256–57, 258, 263, 266, 267, 269, 270, 271 Egunkaria 253, 296n57 Éire Nua (New Ireland) 147 EITB 263 Ekin 97–98, 102, 120, 127, 248; Euskara 98–99; ‘Euskera y Patriotismo Vasco’ (Basque and Basque Patriotism) 99; ‘Normas Generales’ (General Rules) 98; and PNV 99–100 Ekin (internal newsletter) 97 Eksund (ship) 202 Eleanor of Aquitaine 20 Elejabarrieta, Gorka 262, 287, 288 Elizabeth II 175 Elkarri (Together) 215, 217, 218–19, 242, 243, 255 Emakume Abertzale Batza (EAB, Basque Association of Patriotic Women) 52, 64 Embid, Julián 254 Enbata 139 England 10, 21, 29–30, 35n8, 48, 127 English, Richard 5, 284 Enniskillen bombing (1987) 203 Epalza, Chomin 75, 76 Erresiñoleta 80–81 Erskino, J. 98 Ertzaintza (Basque Police Force) 210, 212, 254 Escauriaza, Borja 105, 106, 107 Espiau, Gorka 215, 255, 284 Esquerra Catalana dels Treballadors (Catalan Workers’ Left) 158 Estat Catalá (Catalan State) 56, 60 Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic 204 ETA-militarra (ETA-m; ‘Milis’) 153, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 165, 166, 171, 174, 178, 180, 181, 182, 183, 198–99 ETA-politiko-militarra (ETA-pm; ‘PoliMilis’) 153, 154, 155, 157, 159– 60, 161, 166, 170, 171, 173, 174, 177, 180, 181, 182, 183, 198–99 ETA-V 138, 140, 142 ETA-VI 138, 140, 142 Ethniki Organosis Kyprion Agoniston (EOKA, National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters) 101, 130n29 Etxebarrieta, Javier (Txabi) 125, 137

Etxebarrieta, José Antonio 97, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 122, 146, 150 Etxeberria, Mikel 167 Etxeberria, Rufi 266, 277, 278, 279 Etxebeste, Eugenio (Antxon) 176, 198, 280 European Court of Human Rights (ECHR) 280 European Economic Community (EEC) 116, 139, 144, 147, 155 European Parliament 261–62, 266–67 European Political Prisoners Conference (1979) 170, 174 European stateless nationalism 115–16, 120 European Union (EU) 248, 262, 266–67 Euskadi hors d’Etat/Euskadi Estatutik at (Euskadi at the Margins of the State) (1983) 173 Euskadiko Ezkerra (EE, Basque Left) 160, 172, 176, 177, 178, 193n212, 196 Euskadiko Mugimendu Komunista (EMK, Communist Movement of Euskadi) 122, 160 Euskadi ‘ta Askatasuna (ETA) 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 14n4, 31, 97, 98–99, 102, 109, 110, 113, 116, 117, 127, 137, 143, 151, 156, 170, 176, 179, 182, 190n138, 198, 203, 206, 213, 214–15, 225, 240, 251, 256, 259, 263, 267, 271, 274, 275, 282, 286, 306, 307; ‘action-repression-action’ policy 121, 125; on alleged violence of Spanish police 125; Alternativa Democrática (Democratic Alternative) 216–17, 219; anticolonial/anti-imperial scheme 102–3; Aparato Internacional (International Apparatus) 154, 174, 197; assassination attempt on Aznar 219; assassination of Carrero 148–49, 150, 154, 158– 59; attempted train derailment (1961) 109; Basque ‘national liberation’ 118–19; Biltzar Ttipia (Little Assembly) 138; Burgos Trial (1970) 138–40, 142, 144, 146, 180; Cafetería Rolando bombing (1974) 153; ceasefire (1989) 204; ceasefire (1998) 240, 243; ceasefire (2006) 263, 264, 265; ceasefire (2010) 282;

Index  335 ceasefire (2011) 276, 278, 282, 283, 285, 286; ceasefire, ending of 251, 254, 268, 270–71; Células Rojas (Red Cells) 138; ‘Declaration of Principles’ 118; Dirty War against 196, 197; and divisions in Sinn Féin 249–50; ending of 276–85, 288, 292; españolistas 119, 121, 122, 127, 137; exterior relations 119–21, 145–46; Fifth Assembly (1966, 1967) 121–22, 138; founding of 100; Fourth Assembly (1965) 121; grassroots consultation process 277–78; Hipercor bombing (1987) 202; in International Vietnam Conference in Berlin (1968) 124; and Irish peace process 223–24; Kale Borroka (Street Struggle) 212, 291; kidnapping and murder of Blanco 220; killing of Manzanas 125; ‘La insurrección en Euskadi’ (Insurrection in Euskadi) 118; leaders, arrest in Bidart (1992) 212; liberados (full-time activists) 118; Libro Blanco (White Book) 98, 102, 103–4; Madrid–Barajas Airport bombing (2006) 268, 269, 271, 290; Madrid bombing (2000) 245; March 1972 dossier on Troubles and IRA 144; milis 137–38; militants, extradition of 198, 202; and parliamentary motion of Zapatero for dialogue with ETA 258; and PIRA, suspected connections 145–46, 147–50, 149, 159, 171–72, 173–74, 180, 181, 182, 183; publications, coverage of Breton issues in 120; public attitudes towards 277; relationship with IRA 2, 14n4, 147–50, 154–55, 156, 157, 167, 170, 171–72, 173–74, 178, 179, 181, 182, 183, 245–47, 249, 269, 286, 290, 304, 308, 309; restructuring of 121–22; schism in 137, 153; secret meetings with PNV and EA 241, 244; Sixth Assembly 138; split (1974) 153, 160, 180; talks with Spanish Government/ interlocutors 202, 204, 244,

263, 265–66, 267, 269–70, 290; tensions over ideological direction 121; tercermundistas 121, 122, 127, 137–38; as a terrorist organisation, EU declaration of 248; Third Assembly (1964) 118–19; torture dossier (1963) 115, 127; Udaberri Ponentzia (Udaberri Presentation) 257, 258; and war on terror 248, 290; Zaragoza barracks bombing (1987) 203 Euskal Alderdi Sozialista (EAS, Basque Socialist Party) 151, 158 Euskalduna 28, 29, 30, 31, 33 Euskal Herria (Land of the Basque Speakers) 7, 137, 216, 217, 227, 244, 254–55, 276, 303; see also Basque Country Euskal Herriko Alderdi Sozialista (EHAS, Basque Popular Socialist Party) 158, 159, 160, 163, 164 Euskal Herritarrok (EH, Basque Citizens) 243–44, 248, 254 Euskal Iraultzarako Alderdia (EIA, Basque Revolutionary Party) 154, 159–60, 161–63, 166, 167, 168–69, 170, 172, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 180–81, 182, 196, 309 Euskal Komunista Abertzaleen Batasuna (Basque Nationalist Communist Union) 160 Euskal Sozialista Biltzarrea (Basque Socialist Assembly) 160 Euskara (Euskera; Vasco; Basque) language 7, 16n22, 28, 30–31, 32, 51, 98–99, 102, 103, 117, 127, 209, 225 ‘Euskera y Patriotismo Vasco’ (Basque and Basque Patriotism), Ekin 99 Eusko Alkartasuna (EA, Basque Solidarity) 241, 242, 243, 244, 282 Eusko Gaztedi (EG, Basque Youth) 100, 105, 109 Eusko Gaztedi del Interior (EGI, Basque Youth of the Interior) 100, 105, 106, 108, 109–10, 142 Eusko Sozialista (Basque Socialists) 160 Euzkadi 30, 40, 41, 43, 46, 47, 65, 66, 83

336 Index Euzkadi Mendigoizale Batza (EMB, Basque Mountaineering Organisation) 68 Euzkeldun Batzokija (Basque Social Centre) 41 Euzkerin 67, 74 Euzko Gudarostea (Basque Army) 68, 74 Euzko Ikasle Alkartasuna (Society of Basque Students) 97 Euzko Naia (Basque Desire) 77 Ewart-Biggs, Christopher 158, 159 Expugnatio Hibernica (Conquest of Ireland) 20, 35n7 Extradition (Amendment) Act (1987), Ireland 203 Fanon, Frantz 102 Farrell, Mairéad 203 Federación de ETA en el Extranjero (Federation of ETA Abroad) 120, 121 Féile an Phobail (Festival of the People) 207, 209, 229 Felipe II 21 Felipe III 21 Fenian Brotherhood 11 Fenianism 31 Ferdinand VII 16n25 Fernández, Jonan 215, 255 Fianna Fáil (Soldiers of Destiny) 61, 63, 66, 67, 68, 76, 78, 82, 123, 220, 289 Figaro, Le 199 Figeroa, Alberto 164 Figgis, Darrel 45 Fine Gael (Tribe of the Gaels) 69, 155, 220 First Carlist War (1833–1840) see Carlist Wars First Home Rule Bill (1886) 26 FitzGerald, Garret 155, 156–57 Fluxá, Ricardo Martí 244 FOCO 95 folkloric tradition, Basque 26 Foreign Affairs Bureau (FAB), Sinn Féin 161, 172, 197 Foreign & Commonwealth Office (FCO), UK 142, 148, 152, 168, 171, 199 Foreign Office (FO) 77 Forest, Eva 149 Foro Irlanda see Irish Forum (Foro Irlanda)

foruak (fueros; fors) 7, 8, 9, 24, 25, 26, 98 Fouéré, Yann 133n96 Fourth International 149 Frampton, Martyn 197, 222, 249, 292 France 56, 57, 102, 224, 254–55; Action Directe (Direct Action) 199; and Algeria 112; expulsion of Iker Gallastegi from border region 112–13; May 1968 events 124; nation-state 8, 9, 24–25; Organisation Armée Secrète (Secret Armed Organisation) 112; Paris conference (1961) 109–10, 111; Peninsula War 24 Franco, Francisco 68, 71–72, 77, 78, 95, 100, 104, 105, 115, 127, 140, 148, 150, 155–56, 158 Free Derry 126 Freeman’s Journal 47 French Basque Country 8, 79, 105, 109, 110, 112–13, 120, 137, 139, 212 French Revolution of 1789 8 Frente Revolucionario Antifascista y Patriota (FRAP, Revolutionary Antifascist Patriotic Front) 155 Frente Sandinista de Liberación Nacional (FSLN, Sandinista National Liberation Front), Nicaragua 197 Front de Libération de la Bretagne (FLB, Breton Liberation Front) 123– 24, 143, 144, 148 Front de Libération Nationale (FLN, National Liberation Front), Algeria 102, 118 fueros see foruak (fueros; fors) Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia (FARC, Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia) 248, 249, 250 Gadaffi, Muammar 145, 148, 293 Gaelic Ireland 9, 21 Gaelic Revival 27, 37n36 Galician Unión do Povo Galego (UPG, Galician People’s Union) 151, 158, 204 Gallagher, Brian 148 Gallastegi, Eli (Elías) (Gudari) 41, 52, 55–56, 61, 66–67, 68, 80, 81, 82, 83–84, 94n204, 105, 116, 227–28, 309–10; and Easter Rising (1916) 42, 85n10; and

Index  337 Jagi-Jagi 63; exile into Mexico 62; and Kerney 58–59; and Martin 52, 67, 78, 82; settlement in Ireland 75; and Spanish Civil War 68, 74–75, 78 Gallastegi, Iker (Gatari) 67, 105, 112, 127, 130n46, 146, 228; and Etxebarrieta 109, 110, 111, 113; expulsion from French border region 112–13; in Paris conference (1961) 109–10, 111; training expedition to Ireland 105–8, 109, 128 Gallastegi, Irantzu (Amaia) 220, 228, 246 Gallastegi, Usune 228 Galway 273 Gannon, P.J. 72 GARA 277 Garat, Dominique Joseph 37n37 García, Ramón 155 García Ontiveros, Juan 80, 81 Garmendia, José María 109 Garzón, Baltasar 248 Gascoyne-Cecil, Robert 26 Gavan Duffy, George 45, 46, 48 Gaztañaga, Francisco 51, 55, 56, 60 Gazte Topagunea (Youth Encounter) 226 Gernika, bombing of (1937) 73–74 Gesto por la Paz (Gesture for Peace) 277 Gestoras Pro Amnistía 248 Gibbstown, Ireland 80, 108–9 Gibraltar 3 203 Gilmore, George 69, 70, 71, 72 Ginnell, Laurence 49, 50, 54 Gipuzkoa (Basque province) 6, 7, 30, 55, 68, 97, 125, 129n10, 168 Giral, José 75 Giraldus Cambrensis 20, 23, 35n8 Gladstone, William 28 Glór na nOg (Voice of the Youth) 225, 226, 228, 229 Goihenetxe, Manex 164 Gómez Acebo, Manuel 148 González, Felipe 196, 219 Gorostiaga, Koldo 262 Goulding, Cathal 113, 123, 130n29, 136, 158 Goulet, Yann 123, 139, 143, 145, 155 Government of Ireland Act (1920) 12, 221 Great Famine (An Gorta Mor) 11

Great War see World War I Greysteel massacre (1993) 212 Griffith, Arthur 27, 32 Grupos Antiterroristas de Liberación (GAL, Anti-Terrorist Liberation Groups) 196, 197 Guardia Civil (Civil Guard) 95, 203, 217, 244, 254 Guardian, The 152, 154, 264, 282 Guelke, Adrian 197 Haika (Get Up) 248, 253 Halpenny, Sean 177 Hanley, Brian 39, 42 Harris, Eoghan 292 Hartley, Tom 215 Hattersley, Roy 152 Haughey, Charles 204 Haughey, Denis 215, 218 Hautsi 147 Hayes, Seán 68 H-Block Hunger Strikes (1980, 1981) 1, 174–76, 192n188, 207 Henry II 9, 20, 23 Henry VIII 10 Hernandorena, Teodoro 64 Herri Alderdi Sozialista Iraultzalea (HASI, People’s Socialist Revolutionary Party) 160, 163, 164, 178 Herri Batasuna (HB, Popular Unity) 160, 164, 165, 169, 170, 174, 175–76, 177–78, 181, 193n212, 196, 197–98, 200, 202, 206, 207–8, 209–10, 211, 213, 217, 218, 219–20, 225, 230, 232n6, 239, 240, 242, 243, 245, 253, 260, 290, 294n9; in Basque regional election (1998) 243; Joint Declaration of the National Executives of Sinn Féin and Herri Batasuna (1994) 216; Mesa Nacional (National Executive) 220, 228, 240; relationship with Sinn Féin 197– 98, 200, 207, 208, 209–10, 229, 242, 243, 249, 291–92, 306, 309; and war on terror 248 Herriko Alderdi Sozialista (HAS, Popular Socialist Party) 151, 153, 158, 163, 180 Heusaff, Alan 133n96 Hibernophilia 30, 83 Hipercor bombing (1987) 202

338 Index hirukos (militant cells), ETA 118, 121, 125 Historia Brittonum (Nennius) 19 Historia Vasca (Basque History) (de Estella) 64 ‘History of Sinn Féin’ (Erskino) 98 Hitler, Adolf 79, 293 Hitz 172, 176 Home Rule (Ireland) 11–12, 24, 25, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 38n47, 39, 40, 47 Horowitz, Michael C. 182, 308 Howell, Ted 172 Howes, David 203 Hughes, Brendan 175, 208 Hume, John 212, 218, 239, 242 Hume-Adams statements 212, 213 Ibarretxe, Juan José 230, 243–44, 255, 257, 269, 291–92 Ibarretxe Plan 255 Ibarzabal, Eugenio 108, 109 Idigoras, Jon 219 imagined community 211, 235n79, 307 Independent, The 282 Independent International Commission on Decommissioning (IICD) 259 Informaciones 148 ‘insurrección en Euskadi, La’ (Insurrection in Euskadi) 118 International Basque Solidarity Week (2007) 273 International Brigades 77, 83 International Conference of Minorities, Trieste (1974) 149 International Conference to Promote the Resolution of the Conflict in the Basque Country (2011) 4, 278, 283, 284, 293, 301n175 International Secretariat, Official Sinn Féin 150–51, 153 international terror network 173–74 International Vietnam Conference in Berlin (1968) 124, 128 Iraq, US-led invasion of 247 Iraqi Communist Party, Central Command of 142 Ireland 9–12, 16n19, 19, 95–96, 179, 182–83; Act of Union (1800) 10, 11; Anglicisation of 10; Anglo-Irish Agreement (1985) 199, 230, 307; AngloIrish Treaty (1921) 12, 48–49, 50, 52, 54, 63, 64, 67, 179;

Anglo-Norman invasion of 9–10; Basque-Irish commonalities 23–24, 28; Basque origins of Irish people thesis 20–21, 22–23, 35n7; Basque refugees during World War II in 79–80, 108; colonisation/plantations of 10; conquest of 20, 35n8; Economic War with Britain 64, 67; English preconceptions about 23; Gaelic Ireland 9, 21; Gaelic Revival 27, 37n36; Home Rule 11–12, 24, 25, 26, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 38n47, 39, 40, 47; land confiscations and penal laws in 10, 22; linguistic and cultural revival movements in 27; lordship 9, 10; migration of Irish people to Spain 22; Milesians 19–20, 21, 22–23, 24, 25, 33, 34, 157; military support from Kingdom of Spain to 21; partitioning of 12, 79, 147, 179, 222; Protestant Ascendancy 10; relations with Spain during Transition 156; self-determination 42–44, 202, 212, 213, 221–22, 223, 230, 241, 289, 306; sovereignty of 25, 36n25; and Spanish Civil War 69–70, 71, 74, 75–77, 78–79; trade relations with Spain 67; Williamite Wars 10 Irgun 102 Irigarai, Eneko 120 Irigaray, Aingeru 64, 65 Irish Basque Committee 139, 143, 272; see also Basque Solidarity Committees (BSC); Irish-Basque Solidarity Committee (Eire/ Euskal Herria Solidarity Group) Irish-Basque Solidarity Committee (Eire/ Euskal Herria Solidarity Group) 272; see also Basque Solidarity Committees (BSC); Irish Basque Committee Irish Brigades (Spanish Civil War) 71, 77, 79 Irish Catholic Church 69, 79 Irish Christian Front (ICF) 69, 71, 79 Irish Circle (Círculo Irlandés) 50 Irish Citizen Army 39 Irish Civil War (1922–1923) 12, 52, 54, 58, 67, 71

Index  339 Irish Constitution (Bunreacht na hÉireann) 67, 221, 239 Irish Forum (Foro Irlanda) 239, 240, 244, 253, 289 Irish Free State 61, 63, 64, 66; see also Saorstát Éireann (Irish Free State) Irish election: 1918 (UK general election) 40, 43, 47; 1933 (Irish general election) 66; 1957 101 Irish Green Party 220 Irish-Iberian Trading Company (IITC) 67–68, 74, 91n142 Irish Independent 69, 71, 74, 79, 114, 246, 274 Irish Labour Party 63 Irish language (Gaeilge) 28, 30–31, 32, 78, 98–99, 114, 117, 127, 208–9 Irish Mirror 42, 45, 66, 83, 179, 205, 206, 218–19, 231, 238n168, 291, 309, 310 Irish National Liberation Army (INLA) 153, 163 Irish National Liberation Solidarity Front 139 Irish Parliamentary Party (IPP) 11, 12, 18n47, 27, 28, 31, 40, 43, 47 Irish peace process 204, 212, 213, 214– 15, 217, 218–19, 222–24, 230, 239, 242, 245, 250, 255, 264, 268, 271, 282, 288, 306, 309 Irish Press 64, 149 Irish question 26, 28, 29–30, 32, 33, 39–40, 41–42, 43, 47, 82 Irish Republic (1919) 12, 39–40, 44, 54, 59, 61, 64, 67, 83, 100, 136–37, 179, 200–1, 309; and Argentina 49–52, 54, 55; dangerous friends of 57–58; diplomatic hubs 45; and Spain 45–49 Irish Republican Army (IRA) 2, 6, 14n4, 15n11, 44, 46, 47, 48, 49, 54, 59, 64, 67, 70, 76, 77, 102, 111–12, 115–16, 123, 126, 130n29, 142–43, 170, 179, 200, 203, 205, 206–7, 213, 217, 222, 244, 284, 286, 306, 307; and assassination of Carrero 148; Brighton bombing (1984) 195; ceasefire (1994) 214; ceasefire (1997) 221; and Colombia 3 248–49; connections with FARC 249; Convention (1968) 124–25; Convention (1969)

136; Convention (1986) 201; decommissioning 259, 291; Enniskillen bombing (1987) 203; in International Vietnam Conference in Berlin (1968) 124; IRA Army Council 100, 108, 113, 213, 221, 259; London ‘Docklands bombing’ (1996) 220, 269, 271; Long War 166, 196, 202, 203, 222; and Mitchell Principles 221; Operation Harvest (1956–62) 101, 108, 113, 116, 123; post-World War II 100–1; relationship with ETA 2, 14n4, 147–50, 154–55, 156, 157, 167, 170, 171–72, 173–74, 178, 179, 181, 182, 183, 245–47, 249, 269, 286, 290, 304, 308, 309; Shankill Road bombing (1993) 212; and Sinn Féin 101; see also Official Irish Republican Army (OIRA); Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) Irish Republican Brotherhood (IRB) 11, 44 Irish Republican Information Service (IRIS) 170 Irish Republican Socialist Party (IRSP) 153 Irish Revolutionary Period (1916–1923) 12, 42, 45, 47, 62, 66, 82, 83– 84, 97, 100, 103, 310 Irish Times 146, 149, 275 Irish Volunteers 11, 39, 44 Irish War of Independence (1919–1921) 12, 44, 47, 71 ‘Irlandako Bake Prozesoaren alde. Diálogo sin exclusiones’ (In Support of the Irish Peace Process. Dialogue without Exclusions) demonstration 217, 218 Irlande du Nord statement (1972) 144 Irujo, Manuel 108, 109, 111, 139 Iruretagoyena, José Ignacio 220 Irvin, Cynthia L. 6, 200 Isabella II 24 Isasi, Mikel 105, 106 Israel 98, 102, 118, 127 Italian Brigate Rosse (Red Brigades) 174 Iturbe, Domingo (Txomin) 171, 202 Izaurieta, José María 76

340 Index Jagi-Jagi (Arise-Arise) 63, 66, 68, 73, 82, 127, 310 Jagi-Jagi (periodical) 63, 66, 80, 227 James II 10 James VI and I 10 Jarrai (Continue) 225–26, 228, 229, 245, 248, 252, 253, 309 Jaun Zuria 26, 50, 85n10, 157 Jauregui, Elias 149 Jáuregui, Ramón 214 Jauregui Beraza, Eduardo 130n46 jeltzales 9, 30, 31, 33, 34, 47, 63, 69, 99, 104, 105, 109–10, 112, 116, 119, 165 Jiménez-Becerill, Alberto 220 John, King of England 9 Johnston, John 184n22 Johnston, Roy 115–16, 123 Joint Declaration of the National Executives of Sinn Féin and Herri Batasuna (1994) 216 Juan Carlos I 156, 157, 171, 199 Juaristi, Jon 85n10 Juventud Vasca (Basque Youth) 41, 52 Kale Borroka (Street Struggle) 212, 291 Karmon, Eli 147, 308 KAS Alternatiba (KAS Alternative) 165, 190n140, 202, 216 Keane, Frank 108 Keane, John 75 Keenan, Seán 147 Kelly, Gerry 265, 270, 283, 286, 289 Keogh, Dermot 148 Kerney, Leopold 56, 57–60, 61, 67–68, 77, 78, 79, 80, 88n77 Kertzer, David I. 235n72 Kingdom of France 7; see also France Kingdom of Ireland 11 Kingdom of Navarre (Kingdom of Pamplona) 7, 21 Kirkpatrick y O’Donnell, Luis 96 Komando Bereziak (Special Commandos) 154 Koordinadora Abertzale Sozialista (KAS, Patriotic Socialist Coordinator) 155, 206, 207, 225, 229, 248 Krutwig, Federico 100, 108, 109, 110– 11, 117–18, 119, 137 Laborda, Ramón 64, 65, 69, 72, 73 Labourd (Basque province) 6

Landa, Karmelo 206, 213, 214, 219–20, 242, 243, 290 Langile Abertzaleen Batzordeak (Basque Patriotic Workers Commissions) 280 Langile Abertzale Iraultzaileen Alderdia (Party of the Revolutionary Patriotic Workers) 160 Larrañaga, Adolfo 56 Lasagabaster, Begoña 243 Laudabiliter 20 Law, Andrew Bonar 42, 43 Lawlor, Damian 253 League of Nations 44, 76 League of Oppressed Nations 55, 56–57 Lebor Gabála Érenn (The Book of the Taking of Ireland) 19 Lehane, Con 139 Leinster House 201 Lemass, Seán 112 Lennon, Michael 64, 75, 76 Letamendia, Francisco (Ortzi) 160, 167 Ley Orgánica de Partidos Políticos (Organic Law of Political Parties) 248 Libro Blanco (White Book), ETA 98, 102, 103–4 Libya 145, 148, 201 Little, Patrick J. 49–50, 78 Lizarra Agreement (Pact of Estella) see Lizarra-Garazi Agreement (LGA) Lizarra-Garazi Agreement (LGA) 240– 42, 243, 244, 253, 255, 256, 289 Lizaso, José Ignacio 74 Lloyd George, David 48 London ‘Docklands bombing’ (1996) 220, 269, 271 Long Kesh (H-Block) Hunger Strike see H-Block Hunger Strikes (1980, 1981) Lorenzo Espinosa, José María 63, 66, 94n204, 228 Louis XVIII 24 Lower Navarre (Basque province) 6 Lynch, Jack 126, 157 Mac Brádaigh, Caoimhín 203 MacCaig, Arthur 173 Mac Curtáin, Tomás 101 Mac Donncha, Mícheál 209 Mac Giolla, Tomás 113, 136, 139, 155, 159 Macià, Francesc 56, 57, 60–61

Index  341 Mac Stiofáin, Seán 130n29, 136, 141, 145, 146 MacSwiney, Mary 64 MacSwiney, Terence 64, 65, 72, 83, 110, 111, 127 Madariaga, Julen 98, 103, 115, 118, 120, 137, 264 Madariaga, Katalin 281 Madrid–Barajas Airport bombing (2006) 268, 269, 271, 290 Madrid train bombings (2004) 256 Magan, Tony 101 Maguire, Frank 175 Maguire, Thomas 136–37, 201 Maillot, Agnès 292 Major, John 213, 269 Mallie, Eamonn 180 Manchester bombing (1996) 269 Mandela, Nelson 214, 261 Manifeste de soutien à I’IRA (Manifesto in support of the IRA) 144 Manzanas, Melitón 125, 137, 138, 140 Mao Tse-tung 206 Martin, Ambrose 50–52, 53, 55, 56, 61–62, 65, 67, 74, 78, 80, 81– 82, 84, 87n53, 89n120, 91n142, 93n197, 105; and Gallastegi 52, 67, 78, 82; and Irish-Iberian Trading Company (IITC) 67–68, 91n142; and Kerney 57, 59–60; and Macià 57, 60–61; and Spanish Civil War 71, 72, 76; tour to Basque Country 51–52, 65–66, 89n112, 310; and World War II 81 Martín, Bonifacio 254 Martin, Eamonn 77, 116 Martín Artajo, Alberto 96 Martin Villa, Rodolfo 171 Mary I of England 21 Maskey, Alex 1, 2, 195, 202, 255, 264– 65, 270, 282, 283, 286, 287–88, 289–90, 293 Mason, Roy 166, 167–68 Matxinada: Basque Nationalism and Radical Basque Youth Movements (Ó Broin) 252–53, 296n53 May 1968 events (France) 124 May Day Communique (1971) 143–44 Mayor Oreja, Jaime 219, 267 McAdam, Doug 165, 190n138 McAlinden, Gerry 163–64

McBride, Robert 287 McCann, Daniel 203 McCartney, Raymond 280 McCauley, Leo 95–96 McCauley, Martin 248 McConville, Eileen 175 McCreanor, Kyle 46, 47, 55, 81, 83, 84 McElduff, Barry 225 McGarry, Fearghal 71, 94n199 McGuinness, Martin 15n11, 141, 195, 201, 221, 265, 293 McGuire, Maria 145, 146, 147, 181 McGurran, Malachy 150 McLogan, Paddy 101 McManus, Patrick 50 Mees, Ludger 27, 56, 117, 165, 190n138, 278 Mendigoxales 63, 68 Mesa Nacional (National Executive), Herri Batasuna 220, 228, 240 Message to the Free Nations of the World 44 Milesians 19–20, 21, 22–23, 24, 25, 33, 34, 157 Millar, Robert 141 Milltown Cemetery Massacre (1988) 203 Mitchell, George 244 Mitchell Principles 220–21, 278, 280, 281 Moghadam, Assaf 308 Moloney, Ed 145, 217, 221, 222, 279 Molyneux, Henry Howard 24 Monaghan, James 246, 247, 248, 274, 292 Monster Meetings 25 Montero, José María “Txema” 202–3, 206, 243 Monzón, Telesforo 71, 160 Moors 7, 71 Morrison, Danny 176, 195, 252, 275 Morrison, Rex 198 Mountbatten, Louis 171 Movimiento Comunista (Communist Movement), Spain 122 Movimiento de Liberación Nacional Vasco (MLNV, Basque National Liberation Movement) 5, 206, 211, 225, 248, 272 Movimiento Nacional (National Movement), Spain 156 Mugarri 277, 281 Múgica, Francisco (Pakito) 212

342 Index Muguruza, Josu 204 Munster (Irish province) 10 Muro, Diego 277 Murua, Imanol 265, 267, 271, 277, 279, 281, 287 Na Fianna Éireann 201 Nation, The 25, 26 National Tribunal of Political Responsibilities (Spain) 96 Navarre (kingdom/comunidad) 6, 8, 16–17n25, 26, 172, 218, 266, 267, 270; concierto economico (economic accord) 8; noninclusion in prospective Basque comunidad 165, 179; and Spanish Civil War 68 Nennius 19 Nérin, Jean-Serge 282 Nicaragua 197 ‘Normas Generales’ (General Rules), Ekin 98 Northern Ireland 5, 12, 100, 101, 102, 124, 136, 142–43, 150, 152, 156–57, 161, 179, 218, 306; Battle of the Bogside 126; Belfast ‘Good Friday’ Agreement (GFA) of 1998 4, 196, 221–22, 223, 231, 239, 240, 249, 252, 259, 264, 289, 292, 303, 306; Bloody Friday (1972) 141, 166; Bloody Sunday (1972) 140, 184n22; Corporals Killings (1988) 203; Crossmaglen bombing (1970) 141; Derry civil rights march (October 1968) 125; Enniskillen bombing (1987) 203; Greysteel massacre (1993) 212; H-Block Hunger Strikes (1980, 1981) 1, 174–76, 192n188, 207; Hume-Adams statements 212, 213; local elections (1985) 198, 199; Long March from Belfast to Derry (1969) 125; Long War 166, 196, 202, 203, 222; Milltown Cemetery Massacre (1988) 203; Omagh bombing (1998) 237n121; O’Neill reform agenda 125; Operation Harvest (1956–62) 101, 108, 113, 116, 123; Shankill Road bombing (1993) 212; Stormont spygate affair (2002) 249, 295n41; Troubles 16n19, 124, 126, 141,

143, 144, 147, 152, 163, 179, 182, 203–4, 222, 239 Northern Ireland Assembly (NIA) 195, 221, 231n2, 223, 259 Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association (NICRA) 124 Núñez Seixas, Xosé M. 28, 42, 45, 47, 84 Ó Brádaigh, Ruairí 113, 136, 147, 149, 161, 162–63, 166, 168–69, 172, 177, 180, 201 Ó Briain, Art 88n77 O’Brien, Máire 45–47, 49 O’Brien, William 81, 87n53 Ó Broin, Eoin 1, 2, 225–26, 227, 228, 252–53, 268, 269, 272, 286, 288, 293 O’Callaghan, Sean 145, 170, 171–72 Ó Caoláin, Caomhighín 249 Ó Ceallaigh, Seán Tomás 44 Ó Cionnaith, Seán 150, 151, 163–64 Ó Conaill, Dáithí 141, 201 O’Connell, Daniel 25, 31, 36n25, 72 O’Connell, Kathleen 74 O’Connor, Art 61 O’Donnell, Hugh Roe 21 O’Donnell, Juan 46 O’Donnell, Liz 249 O’Donnell, Peadar 70, 71, 73, 77 O’Donnell, Rory 21 O’Duffy, Eoin 69, 71, 72, 77, 79 Office of Foreign Assets Control (US Department of the Treasury) 248 Official Irish Republican Army (OIRA) 136, 140, 141, 148, 153, 184n5, 191n148; OIRA Army Council 150; see also Irish Republican Army (IRA) Official Sinn Féin (OSF) 136–37, 150, 158, 159, 160–61, 180, 184n5; and Brest Charter 163, 164; International Secretariat 150–51, 153; see also Sinn Féin O’Flanagan, Michael 71 Óglaigh na hÉireann (Volunteers of Ireland) 44 Ógra Shinn Féin (ÓSF) see Sinn Féin Youth (SFY) O’Halpin, Eunan 293 Okiñena, Juan 176, 178, 198, 200 Olaverri, Javier 177 Omagh bombing (1998) 237n121

Index  343 O’Mahony, John 11 O’Mahony, W. 47 O’Malley, Desmond 249 O’Malley, Ernie 71 Ó Murchú, Eoin 150, 151, 163 Onaindia, Mario 167, 177 O’Neill, Diarmuid “Ginger” 246 O’Neill, Hugh 21 O’Neill, Terence 125 Operación Gorris (Operation Reds) 246 Operation Harvest (1956–62) 101, 108, 113, 116, 123 Operation Motorman 166 Oreja, Marcelino 156–57 Organisation Armée Secrète (Secret Armed Organisation) 112 Organização Unitária de Trabalhadores (OUT, United Organisation of Workers) 168, 169 O’Riordan, Michael 139, 155 Otaegui, Ángel 155 Otaegui, Tomás 50 Otegi, Arnaldo 1–2, 3, 4, 231, 242, 245, 254, 256–57, 258–59, 263, 266, 267, 268, 269, 277, 279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 310 Otegi, Josetxo 225, 226, 245 Pacto de Ajuria-Enea (Ajuria-Enea Pact), 1988 203, 230, 307 ‘Pacto de la Libre Alianza’ (Pact of Free Alliance) 56 Pais, El 167, 168, 245 Paisley, Ian 125, 170, 259 Palestine 197 Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) 197 pan-Celticism 115–16 Pardines, José Antonio 125, 137 Paredes, Juan (Txiki) 155 Parnell, Charles Stewart 28, 31, 72 Partido Comunista de España (PCE, Communist Party of Spain) 149, 165 Partido Nacionalista Vasco (PNV, Basque Nationalist Party) 8–9, 27–28, 32, 33, 34–35, 51–52, 64, 79, 91n141, 103, 105, 107, 108, 116, 127, 160, 196, 213, 215, 219, 228, 230, 240, 243, 244, 266, 267, 294n9; Anglophilia 30; in Basque regional election (1998) 243–44; and de Valera, meeting between

54–55; and Downing Street Declaration 310; and Easter Rising 40, 41; and Ekin 99–100; and ETA 118, 119; Ibarretxe Plan 255; international discourse of 28–30; and LGA 241, 242; moderate and radical positions of 41; Paris conference (1961) 109–10, 111; post-World War II strategy 104; and Primo de Rivera dictatorship 54; rapprochement between factions 62; rejection of militant front 112; schism in 31, 62–63; and Spanish Civil War 68, 71, 74, 75 Partido Popular (PP, Popular Party), Spain 211, 219, 220, 223, 241, 243, 254, 256, 258, 265, 267, 271, 284, 290, 291 Partido Socialista de Euskadi (PSE, Socialist Party of Euskadi) 196 Partido Socialista de Euskadi-Euskadiko Ezkerra (PSE-EE) 214, 242, 254, 256–57, 266, 267 Partido Socialista Obrero Español (PSOE, Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party) 165, 196, 211, 219, 223, 241, 256, 258, 270, 271, 283, 290 Partit Socialista d’Alliberament Nacional dels Països Catalans, El (Catalan Socialist Party of National Liberation) 158 Patria Vasca 62 Patriot Game, The (1979) 173 Pearse, Patrick 33, 39, 40, 42, 49, 65, 110, 111 Peñagarikano, José Ramón 161–62, 172, 175, 176, 177, 178, 181 Peninsular War (Spanish War of Independence) 24 People’s Democracy (Ireland) 153 Pérez-Agote, Alfonso 129n10 Plaid Cymru (Party of Wales) 133n96 Plot of Prats Molló 60–61 Pobes, Coro Rubio 36n22 polarised pluralism 245 Police Service of Northern Ireland 259 Policía Española 174 political culture 102, 303–4; Basque nationalism 2, 3, 5–6, 8, 63, 84, 140; Irish republicanism 2, 3, 5, 6, 140, 176, 225, 290; shared

344 Index 208, 210–11, 228, 230, 235n79, 305, 307, 309 Politics of Irish Freedom, The (Adams) 209 Politique Hebdo 144 Popular Front (Spain) 68 Portrait of a Revolutionary (documentary) 154 Portugal 24, 71, 95, 96, 168 Potter, Philip B.K. 182, 308 Powell, Jonathan 4, 244, 270, 283, 284 Prendergast, John (Jack) 77 Prevention of Terrorism Act (UK) 162 Price, Dolours 148 Primo de Rivera, Miguel 54, 56, 62 Proclamation of the Irish Republic 33, 39, 42 propaganda 70, 79; British 45, 46, 168; ETA 120, 121; Irish 45–46, 47– 48, 182; Sinn Féin 47, 147, 197; Spanish 46, 63 Protestant Ascendancy 10 Protestants/Protestantism 10, 12, 43, 140, 147, 208, 239 Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) 136, 140–41, 143, 144, 148, 153, 166, 178, 184n5, 222, 306; arms procurement 145–46, 149, 201–2; assassination of Ewart-Biggs 158, 159; assassination of Mountbatten 171; and ETA, suspected connections 145–46, 147–50, 154, 159, 171–72, 173–74, 180, 181, 182, 183; Green Book 200; see also Irish Republican Army (IRA) Provisional Sinn Féin (PSF) 136, 146– 47, 149, 150, 153, 158, 161, 162, 166, 177, 180, 184n5, 198; Ard Fheis (1976) 161; Ard Fheis (1977) 161–62; Ard Fheis (1978) 167; Ard Fheis (1981) 175; Ard Fheis (1981) 176; Ard Fheis (1983) 177, 178; connections with HB 174, 176, 177–78, 181; and EIA 154, 161–63, 166, 167, 168–69, 172, 174, 180–81, 309; European Political Prisoners Conference (1979) 170, 174; Foreign Affairs Bureau (FAB) 161, 172; International Office 147; see also Sinn Féin

Pueblo Trabajador Vasco (PTV, Basque Working People) 122 Punto y Hora de Euskal Herria (PHEH) 159, 176, 197, 198, 205, 207 Quin, Michael J. 23 Rajoy, Mariano 258 Rato, Rodrigo 223 Real Irish Republican Army 221, 237n121 realpolitik 30, 79, 96 Reconquista (Reconquest) 7 Red Army Faction (RAF/Baader Meinhof) 170, 173 Redmond, John 31, 38n47, 40 Rees, Merlyn 166 Reid, Alec 204, 240–41, 255, 261, 262, 265, 283, 290 Republican Clubs 166 Republican Congress (Ireland) 69–70, 71, 73, 83, 306 Republican News 144, 158–59 Republican Sinn Féin (RSF) 201, 223 Requete militias 68 Reynolds, Albert 213, 269 Rezola, Joseba 105, 106–8, 130n46 Rice, Pat 198–99, 214, 225, 242–43, 245, 250, 265, 280 Rioja, La (Spanish province) 99 Rios, Paul 242, 243 Robles Piquer, Carlos 171 Rodríguez, Karlos 210, 217, 219, 243 Rodríguez Ranz, José Antonio 56 Rosón, Juan José 174 Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) 125, 126, 140, 141, 166 Rubalcaba, Alfredo Pérez 268 Ruiz de Pinedo, Iñaki 175–76, 178 Ryan, Frank 65, 70, 71, 77, 171 St Andrew’s Agreement (2006) 259 Salaberria, Jon 253, 255 Salazar, António de Oliveira 95 Sánchez-Bravo, José Luis 155 Sancho Garcés III 7 Sands, Bobby 175, 176, 178, 181, 195 Sands, Sean 176 Santoyo, Julio-César 157 Saoirse (Freedom) 245 Saorstát Éireann (Irish Free State) 12, 54, 58 Saraiva de Carvalho, Otelo 168 Sarasketa, Mitxel 209

Index  345 Saratxo, Mikel 277 Savage, Seán 203 Scanlan, Thomas 42, 43 Second Carlist War (1846–1849) see Carlist Wars Second Spanish Republic 62, 63, 68, 83 Secret History of the IRA, A (Moloney) 145, 222, 279 Segi (Continue) 248, 253, 273 Segura, Joseba 255 self-determination 42, 151, 206, 211, 216, 306; Basque 142, 165, 200, 202, 205, 216, 218, 231, 239, 242, 254, 256, 271, 272, 306; Irish 42–44, 202, 212, 213, 221– 22, 223, 230, 241, 289, 292, 306 September 11 attacks 247–48, 290 Shankill Road bombing (1993) 212 shared political culture 208, 210–11, 228, 230, 235n79, 305, 307, 309 Sinn Féin 1, 2, 6, 12, 18n47, 27, 38n47, 40, 50, 52, 55, 62, 82, 101, 113, 128, 136, 146, 150, 168, 195, 199, 201, 205, 207, 217, 218, 219, 223, 225, 226, 228, 232n6, 233n38, 239, 255, 259, 261, 268, 269, 270, 275, 279, 282, 284, 285, 286, 287, 292–93; in 1918 general election 47; abstention policy of 61, 101, 136–37, 147, 183n4, 195, 200, 201; and Anglo-Irish Treaty (1921) 48, 49; and Burgos Trial (1970) 139–40; Coiste Seasta (Standing Committee) meetings 126, 218; and Colombia 3 248– 49; and dissident republicanism 293; and Downing Street Declaration (DSD) 213; entrance into electoral politics 175; and ETA ceasefire (2006) 264, 265; ETA-related divisions in 249–50; Foreign Affairs Bureau (FAB) 161, 172, 197; and Irish question 30; and Irish self-determination 43–44; Joint Declaration of the National Executives of Sinn Féin and Herri Batasuna (1994) 216; and Mendigoxales 63; and Mitchell Principles 220–21; and Northern Ireland local elections (1985) 198, 199; propaganda 47–48; relationship

with EIA 154, 161–63, 166, 167, 168–69, 172, 174, 180–81, 309; relationship with HB 197–98, 200, 207, 208, 209–10, 229, 242, 243, 249, 291–92, 306, 309; schism in 136; split (1986) 200; and UK general election (1955) 101; United Irishman 101–2; see also Official Sinn Féin (OSF); Provisional Sinn Féin (PSF) Sinn Féin (periodical) 32 Sinn Féin Ard Fheiseanna (inclusive of Provisional Sinn Féin and Official Sinn Féin): 1926 61; 1968 126; 1973 147, 151; 1976 158, 161; 1977 161–62, 1978 167; 1980 175; 1981 176; 1983 177, 178, 197; 1984 198; 1986 200, 201; 1987 202, 203; 1990 206, 208; 1995 243; 1996 219, 243; 1998 224; 2005 257; 2010 281; 2016 1–2, 4, 310 Sinn Féin Mirror 279, 290–91 Sinn Féin Youth (SFY, Ógra Shinn Féin) 228–29, 245, 252, 253, 272, 273–74, 309 Sliabh Dubh Sinn Féin cumann 210 Slidell-Mackenzie, Alexander 23 Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP) 195, 204, 212, 217, 218, 289 Sociedad Euskalerria (Basque Society) 26 Sociedad Internacional de la Juventud Nacionalista (International Society of Nationalist Youth) 33 Society of the United Irishmen, The 10 Soler Parício, Pere 57 Sortu 1, 2, 283 Soto, Iñaki 252 Soule (Basque province) 6 South Africa 197, 261 Spain 7, 8, 29, 30, 44, 95–96, 103, 112, 158, 161, 171, 223, 224, 231, 254–55, 307; 18/98 macro(judicial) process 240; Años de Plomo (Years of Lead) 157; Basque question 8, 206, 264; Carlist Wars 8, 16–17n27, 23, 24, 25–26, 29; and Downing Street Declaration (DSD) 213– 14; Hipercor bombing (1987) 202; illegalisation of Batasuna

346 Index 280, 290; and Irish Republic 45–49; Long War 166; Madrid– Barajas Airport bombing (2006) 268, 269, 271, 290; Madrid train bombings (2004) 256; migration of Irish people to 22; military dictatorship in 54; military support to Ireland 21; nation-state 8; Peninsula War 24; propaganda of 46; relations with Ireland/Britain during Transition 156; role in war on terror 247; trade relations with Ireland 67; Transition 156–57, 165, 211, 241; use of Milesian myth by Irish migrants in 22; Zaragoza barracks bombing (1987) 203 Spanish Army 22, 36n14, 68, 254 Spanish Civil War 68–69, 82–83, 163, 228, 306; bombing of Gernika 73–74; and Britain 75, 76; end of 78; frustrations of Basque nationalists with Ireland 74; Irish support to Basque nationalists 75–76, 79; non-governmental Irish support to Spanish Republic 77; pro-Franco support in Ireland 69, 70, 71–72, 74, 77; and Republican Congress 69–70, 71, 73; sentiment in Ireland regarding 69; tour of Laborda in Ireland 72–73 Spanish Constitution (1978) 156, 165– 66, 168, 179, 196, 211, 214 Spanish Constitutional Court 283 Spanish general election: 1977 160; 1996 219 Spanish National Police 254 Special Air Service (UK) 203 Special Category Status 166, 174 Spiegel, Der 149, 173 Spirit of Ermua 220 Statute of Westminster (1931) 63 Stephens, Edward Bell 23 Stephens, James 11 Sterling, Claire 174 Stone, Michael 203 Stormont spygate affair (2002) 249, 295n41 Suárez, Adolfo 156, 157, 165 Sunday Independent 249 Sunningdale Agreement (1973) 152, 187n78

Tailteann Games (1932) 64 Tarrow, Sidney 165, 190n138 Telegraph, The 249 Terranova, Andrew 226, 227 Terror Network, The (Sterling) 174 Thatcher, Margaret 195, 208, 252 Third Carlist War (1872–1876) see Carlist Wars Third Home Rule Bill (1912) 11, 43 Tierra Vasca 66 Tilly, Charles 165, 190n138 Times, The 148, 167 Tone, Theobald Wolfe 10, 11 To Take Arms (McGuire) 145, 181 Tragedia de Irlanda, La (The Tragedy of Ireland) 45, 103 Transition (Spain) 156–57, 165, 211, 241 Treacy, Matt 123, 132n88 Treaty of Limerick (1691) 10 Treaty of London (1604) 21 Trimble, David 239, 249, 251 Troubles 16n19, 124, 126, 141, 143, 144, 147, 152, 163, 179, 182, 203–4, 222, 231, 239 Tuatha Dé Danann (People of the Goddess Danu) 19 Tunisia 98, 127 Twomey, Seamus 141 Two Spains 68 Tximistak 111 Udaberri Ponentzia (Udaberri Presentation) 257, 258, 263, 268 Udalbiltza 244 Ugalde Zubiri, Alexander 47, 176 UK general election (1955) 101 Ulster (Irish province) 10, 11, 47, 172, 179, 205 Ulster Defence Association (UDA) 141, 203, 212 Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR) 141, 166 Ulster Freedom Fighters 212 Ulsterisation 166 Ulster Unionist Party (UUP) 125, 249, 259 Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) 124, 141, 286 Ulster Volunteers 11 Un escenario para la paz en Euskal Herria (A Scenario for Peace in Euskal Herria), Batasuna 254, 255

Index  347 Unión de Centro Democrático (Union of the Democratic Centre), Spain 156, 165 Unión de Pueblo Navarro (UPN) 220, 254 unionists/unionism 11, 12, 33, 39, 43, 44, 101, 124, 125, 141, 221, 249, 259, 269 Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR) 204–5, 306 United Irishman 101–2, 114, 115, 123, 127, 128, 136, 140, 150, 151, 152, 158, 159 United States 11, 44, 47, 130–31n46, 145, 239; and assassination of Carrero 149; civil rights movement in 124; war on terror 247, 248, 249, 290 University of Deusto 97 Unvaniezh Demokratel Breizh (UDB, Breton Democratic Union) 120, 133n115, 143, 151, 158 Unzueta, Patxo 113 Uriarte, Eduardo “Teo” 126, 177 Uribe-Echevarría, Manuel 80 Uribe-Echevarría, Telesforo 62, 80 Urkullu, Iñigo 266 Urrutikoetxea, Jose Antonio (‘Josu Ternera’) 174, 197, 258 Vasconia (Krutwig) 117–18, 119 Vatican 21 Versailles Conference 44 Vietnam 118, 124, 127 Villanueva, Arturo 227, 229, 245, 272– 73, 274, 275, 276 Voce Communista, La 186n64 Voz de Povo 169 Walsh, Séanna “Breathnach” 259–60, 265, 286, 288 Walshe, Joseph P. 74, 79

war on terror 247, 248, 249, 290 Watson, Cameron 47, 84, 99, 103 Weber, Eugen 9 Wellesley, Arthur 24 Whelan, Barry 58, 80, 88n77 Whelan, Charles V. 150, 157 Whitelaw, William 141 Whitfield, Teresa 257, 265, 267, 271, 278, 284, 286 Williamite Wars 10 Wilson, Woodrow 42–43, 44 Wolfe Tone Societies 114 Wood, Derek 203 Woodworth, Paddy 7, 160–61, 163, 169, 176–77, 269, 275 Workers’ Party (Ireland) 164, 176; see also Official Sinn Féin (OSF) World Basque Conference (1956) 99–100 World War I 33, 40–41, 42–43, 46 World War II 67, 79–80 Xaki 248 Yanke, Peter 182 Yeats, William Butler 39, 63 Young Ireland 11 Yrigoyen, Hípolito 50 Zabala, Josu 227 Zabaleta, Patxi 164 Zabalo, Julen 277 Zamarreño, Manuel 220 Zapatero, José Luis Rodríguez 256, 257, 258, 264, 266, 267, 268, 269 Zaragoza barracks bombing (1987) 203 Ziluga, Txomin 164 Zubimendi, Mikel 246 Zugasti, P. 137 Zutabe 216 Zutik! 116, 120, 122, 138 Zutik (Stand Up) 243