I occasionally encounter common, respectable individuals from various walks of life who recognise me as they pass by on the street, but do not interrupt their stride. Their behaviour is perfectly understandable. In the past, I defended a loyalist paramilitary group – the UDA – and accepted their actions. Understandably, these individuals have nothing but contempt for those involved in paramilitary activities and their advocates, both past and present. The media exhibits a similar sentiment towards me and this is not surprising considering their commitment towards societal welfare. The underlying thought is that my commentary on societal matters is audacious considering my history. A history I have failed to address or explain. Their stance is perfectly warranted and I must rectify my lapse in addressing my past. Hence, I am attempting to do so here, and provide an explanation for my recent discourse.
There is no rational reason that I can provide for my involvement in a paramilitary organisation. Some members may justify their involvement by the loss of family or friends, but my own experience of losing close friends came after my membership. They might also justify it by attacks on their homes, explicit discrimination, exposure to negative representations of “the other side”, or a destructive household environment. However, none of these reasons apply to my circumstance. My upbringing was in a large, loving family with parents who firmly rejected sectarian ideologies. My childhood was in a small mixed-faith housing estate in a rural location, where we were surrounded by Catholic companions. The struggle against poverty was the only battle we cared about, as it was something that affected us all in our community.
So, what triggered this unexpected deviation?
Honestly, I am unsure. A relative once remarked about me, “Our David is tremendously intelligent, but lacks practical wisdom.” Yet, as a justification, it barely holds water. The large proportion of youngsters in Northern Ireland, regardless of their backgrounds, intelligence, possession of common sense, and personal experiences could muster enough morality to avoid involvement with the paramilitaries. I, however, failed to do so.
Poverty impacts significant portions of Britain enormously, but it barely registers in electoral discussions: a disturbing reality affecting real children, families and lives.
What do I hope to achieve from confronting my past? Absolutely nothing at all. Nor am I entitled to hope for anything.
So, what was my wake-up call? Was it the ceasefire by the loyalists in 1994, or the Belfast Agreement of 1998? Or was it witnessing the impact of my humanitarian endeavours with GOAL? The latter would have been a poetic tale, but it wouldn’t be accurate. My work in the humanitarian sector left an indelible imprint on my conscience, but the route to this realisation started well before that time. Prior to the loyalist ceasefire, my moral compass and sense of humanity began to resurface, despite my attempts to suppress them. This nagging conscience was unrelenting. Long before the terms of the agreement were confirmed, I had chosen to disassociate from the UDA. My journey in every respect has indeed been one towards redemption.
Commencing from the start, reflecting on the values I earnestly believed in; those instilled by the commendable community I was nurtured in and by the life lessons imparted through conduct, words and instances by my lovely parents. Being critically truthful about myself to myself stands as the primary factor. What is the expected outcome of addressing my past ideologies? Absolutely nil. Neither do I have the authority to anticipate something. I’m solely engaging with an issue that I ought to have dealt with a long time past. Do I brood over my past? Not at all. Although I’m profoundly embarrassed about it and the feeling of remorse is seldom far, lingering on it excessively would be pointless. It could possibly lead me into the trap of self-victimisation. Nothing can be more nauseating than self-manufactured, self-serving self-pity. Except, perhaps, someone flaunting their transformation as a means to scale their career – that’s precisely why I won’t be discussing this again. Do I seek forgiveness for my past? Indeed, wholeheartedly.
Unless consistent measures to promote reconciliation are taken, even those in the present who believe ‘such a thing could never revisit’ could be proven incorrect.
Talking about the recent sermonising, it’s solely driven by apprehension about the future. During my tenure at GOAL, when I wasn’t on overseas duty, I’d spend a day or two at home with my family over the weekends. This segregated me from the circumstances in Northern Ireland. Once I retired, escaping the realities was not an option.
It’s evident that our society remains just as fragmented as always. While we are currently enjoying a period of comparative tranquility, there is a question often raised throughout Irish history during such peaceful times (including the period when I was raised) as to whether the disconcerting bloodshed of the past could ever recur. History has proven such notions wrong due to the indifference shown towards the root causes and lack of focus on driving reconciliation. The belief that “it won’t happen again” shall be disproved unless we devote effort to fostering reconciliation, whether we affiliate with New Ireland or stay as part of the UK. Harmonious coalescence should be an ongoing process with no termination. A person’s character – not skin colour, religion, nationality, gender, sexuality or any other distinguishing factor – should be the single criterion for their evaluation. The raison d’être of the Belfast Agreement was reconciliation, yet there has been no decisive effort from our politicians and significant individuals to push it forward. In opposition, the inverse is frequently the case. It’s a matter I can’t, and won’t, keep quiet about, considering the future at stake.
David Adams, who contributed towards the successful loyalist ceasefire of 1994 and the establishment of the Belfast Agreement of 1998, later became a writer and commentator in the media. He also committed several years of his life to the international humanitarian organisation, GOAL, based in Dublin. His work led him to several zones of natural and man-made disasters in Africa and the Middle East, and he retired in 2018.