From The Sunday Tribune, 26 July 2008
In November 1995, I travelled with Tommie Gorman from Dublin to the Fanad peninsula in Co Donegal. We were attending the funeral of Neil T Blaney, the former Fianna Fáil minister and longtime republican independent politician. I had written a short biography of Blaney a couple of years previously. But at the time, I was still learning my trade as a journalist in the RTÉ newsroom. Gorman had established a reputation as a hardworking correspondent in the northwest region, and by 1995, he was RTÉ’s Europe editor. Some years later, he would swap Brussels for Belfast to become the national broadcaster’s Northern editor.
I was reminded of that day in November 1995 as I read Ed Moloney’s comments on speculation that Gorman played a role of sorts in the Northern Ireland peace process. There has been persistent talk that Gorman facilitated contacts between the DUP and Sinn Féin prior to the establishment of power-sharing at Stormont in May 2007. Gorman has previously denied a role. But both Bertie Ahern and Jonathan Powell, a long-time senior advisor to Tony Blair, had referred to the involvement of the RTÉ journalist. Moloney contends – if it is true – that Gorman crossed an ethical line, and that the implications for Irish journalism are far-reaching. I am not so sure.
There was a huge turnout on the bitter winter’s day when Blaney was laid to rest at the small graveyard at St Columba’s Church. In a graveside oration, another former Fianna Fáil minister, Kevin Boland, spoke of betrayal: “Blaney is gone. There is no nationalist, no republican voice in the parliament of the 26-county state. And there is no principle in it, either.” Given all that has happened in Northern Ireland over the past decade, Boland’s words are from another world now.
Martin McGuinness was among the funeral congregation. The IRA ceasefire of August 1994 was in place, but the British had not responded with the same speed as their counterparts in Dublin. Demands for decommissioning and the attachment of the word ‘permanent’ to the ceasefire were, in peace-process language, creating an impasse to the invitation of republicans to the talks table. Unknown to the wider world, there was a dynamic underway within the republican movement, and one which played out so dramatically with the Canary Wharf bombing some months later in February 2006.
Gorman had a relationship with McGuinness. As I understand it, respect for Gorman had been formed some years previously when both men, for different reasons, were in attendance at a local court hearing. As cases waited to be heard, a traveller woman was before the court on some minor charge. She was a mother of several children and it wasn’t her first appearance in court. “Is there someone here to go bail for this woman?” the judge asked. There was silence in the body of the court. Then, rather than see the woman go to jail with the inevitable consequences for her young family, Gorman stood and said he would go bail.
After the Blaney funeral on the road to Derry, we stopped at a café. McGuinness and his driver had already ordered tea. I had not met McGuinness before. He eyed me warily. He was a man under pressure. “What do you need?” Gorman asked. “Talks, Tommie. We need talks,” McGuinness replied. And after a pause, he bluntly added: “I could get a bullet in the head if this thing doesn’t start delivering.”
McGuinness may have relayed the same information at meetings with Irish government politicians and officials. I don’t know if Gorman passed on the conversation the next time he met a senior politician or minister. At that time, I wasn’t in a position to have such access. But if I had met an Irish government figure involved in the peace process, would I have passed on my observations? Yes.
I have interviewed Ed Moloney on many occasions. He is a journalist whose work I respect greatly. I agree with his contention that journalists must not take part in politics nor do anything that raises questions about their professional integrity. I would not, however, be so confident as to state that these principles are widely applied. Conflicts of interest are not always declared. And it is regrettable that the purity which Moloney seeks does not universally prevail. The idea of a register of interests for media professionals is certainly worthy of consideration.
But a more pertinent matter concerns the belief that the non-intervention of journalists in political matters is an all-embracing principle. I do not accept that political purity is so easily applicable – or always justifiable – in an area of conflict-resolution.
Is it really unethical for a journalist to make his home and counsel available to rival parties in a political conflict so they can secretly meet to resolve their differences? I would say the answer is no. And it is certainly not unethical if the consequences of non-intervention are that the two sides fail to reach agreement and a return of conflict is a possible outcome.
I like Gorman. Like most television reporters, he demands attention and is driven by a desire to get his story on screen. But he is also motivated by tremendous compassion. And if he did play some small role in the latter stages of the peace process – describe it as being a player, if you like – then it was probably because moral responsibility overruled any ethical principle of the journalism profession.

I am a writer, broadcaster and lecturer specialising in Irish politics. I currently work as Assistant Editor/Political Editor at the Sunday Tribune newspaper and lecture on Northern Ireland politics. My website contains more information -
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