At the start of a commemoration to mark the forty-fifth anniversary of the death of Bobby Sands, Sinn Féin MLA Danny Baker directed comments at unionist councillors on Belfast City Council. A week earlier, unionists criticised the erection of a statue of Bobby Sands in Twinbrook, next to a republican memorial garden, because, like hundreds of other monuments and murals, it had not got formal planning permission. Baker said the statue is ‘going nowhere’, as it was erected ‘by the people and for the people of this community.’
The main speaker at the event in Twinbrook was Pat Sheehan who had been the longest on the 1981 hunger strike when it ended on October 3rd that year. Pat is a Sinn Féin MLA in West Belfast.
This is his full speech:
Is mór an onóir é domh a bheith anseo chun cúpla focal a ra faoin ár gcara agu ár gcomradaí Bobby Sands. Agus ba mhaith liom mo bhuíochas a gabháil leis an ceanntar as an cuireadh a bheith pairteach sa comóradh seo inniú.
‘I am standing on the threshold of another trembling world. May God have mercy on my soul.’
The words of Bobby Sands forty-five years ago as he embarked on the hunger strike that would lead to his death sixty-six days later.
Bobby did not go out looking for conflict, it had come to his own door as a young teenager when his family were driven from their home in Rathcoole by unionist mobs.
From the foundation of the northern state on the basis of a gerrymandered, sectarian headcount Bobby’s family’s experience was not unusual, thousands of nationalists were intimidated and driven from their homes, often by gangs protected by the RUC and B Specials, the armed wing of the unionist regime. Many of those homes were burned to the ground. Thousands were also driven from their places of work. That was part and parcel of the nationalist nightmare in this oppressive, sectarian little statelet.
Peaceful civil rights protests for modest reforms were met with extreme violence. In 1969 the RUC opened fire on Divis Flats with a heavy calibre machine gun mounted on an armoured vehicle. Nine-year-old Patrick Rooney was killed by one of the rounds in his own bedroom.
Despite the violence and repression being inflicted on the nationalist community unionists would try to have us believe we lived in some sort of utopia and that there was no justification for our community to rise up.
Of course we are well used to unionists moralising about republican violence and we have heard plenty of that over the past few weeks. Perhaps they need to read the history book entitled Hypocrisy and Double Standards. The fact is unionism was birthed in violence and the threat of violence, rejoiced in violence and glorified violence. It wallowed in violence before and after partition. They don’t fool us now with their talk of support for law and order. Their condemnation of violence only began when the IRA fought back. In fact, the emergence of the IRA was a direct response to the violent and repressive nature of the Orange state, layered upon eight hundred years of British colonial occupation.
Peaceful protest had been tried by nationalists and failed, the death knell coming under the watch of Brian Faulkner’s unionist regime in Stormont with the murder of completely innocent peaceful protesters in Derry on Bloody Sunday. Prior to that we had witnessed the Ballymurphy Massacre and afterwards the murder of five members of the Springhill/Westrock community, including thirteen-year-old Margaret Gargan, by the British Army.
It has taken fifty-four years to establish legally what everyone already knew – all five were completely innocent. I want to pay tribute here today to the Springhill families, for their determination and resilience and refusing to give up in the face of all the obstacles placed in their way.
In the aftermath of the pogroms against the nationalist community in 1969 thousands of young men and women decided that enough was enough and they were going to fight back. Bobby Sands was of that generation, as was Frank Hughes, Raymond McCreesh, Patsy O’Hara, Joe McDonnell, Martin Hurson, Kevin Lynch, Kieran Doherty, Thomas McElwee and Micky Devine.
The hunger strikers were exemplars of a generation that believed the only way to bring about political change was by the use of armed struggle. We didn’t believe that there was any alternative.
Subsequently many thousands of young Irish men and women ended up in prison where they asserted their right, as previous generations of prisoners had done, to be treated as political prisoners.
After a hunger strike in Crumlin Rd prison in 1972 the British conceded ‘Special Category Status’ which was political status in everything but name. However, within a short space of time after that the British began to roll out their criminalisation strategy. At every opportunity they tried to portray the war in Ireland as a criminal conspiracy, using terminology and vocabulary associated with criminality when referring to our struggle and the people involved in that struggle. They thought they could criminalise 8oo years of resistance to their colonial occupation of Ireland.
You see, the British, even with all their military might could not defeat the Irish Republican Army. And so they turned their attention to the prisoners, believing they were the weak link of our movement. They thought if they could force the prisoners to accept criminalisation they could then drive a wedge between republicans and the communities from which they came and operated in. Their plan was to isolate and marginalise republicans and ultimately defeat our struggle. The front line of this battle would be in the H-Blocks and Armagh women’s prison. The consequence was almost five years of prison protest. First the ‘blanket protest’, that escalated to the ‘no wash’ protest and ultimately the hunger strikes of 1980 and 1981. Brutality, beatings, deprivation and degradation were the order of the day in the H-Blocks and Armagh, and we were in a situation where we believed we had tried everything short of hunger strike to resolve the crisis.
Given that hunger striking is such a drastic and serious course of action it is often asked if there wasn’t an alternative. Believe me, none of us in prison at the time wanted a hunger strike because we knew the likely consequence was the loss of friends and comrades. That had become more likely in the context of how the first hunger strike had ended. Even in the aftermath of the first hunger strike in late 1980 Bobby had tried to negotiate an honourable settlement but the British had no interest in a resolution. Bobby said afterwards he had tried everything short of surrender to avoid a second hunger strike.
Notwithstanding Bobby’s efforts, there was indeed a clear alternative to hunger strike. The British government could have ended its vicious and vindictive criminalisation strategy and the prison regime could have stopped the beatings, brutality and torture of naked defenceless prisoners.
They didn’t because they thought they could defeat and break us. They thought we would bend the knee and eventually capitulate to their torture and brutality. They thought we would accept the criminalisation of our struggle.
Danny Morrison in his introduction to the book Hunger Strike wrote:
‘The British government, the RUC, the courts, the prison administration thought they could criminalise my generation of republican patriots by breaking the prisoners. They took away their freedom, then their clothes, shoes and socks and locked them up twenty-three hours a day. Then they took away the walk around the prison yard in fresh air under blue skies. They took away their beds. When this didn’t break them they took away the light that streamed through the windows. They took away the space under the door. They took away music, poetry books and literature, photographs of loved ones, letters home, their visits … their very lives. Leaving them with nothing. Or so they thought.’
But the British hadn’t considered the calibre of the men and women in our ranks. They hadn’t factored into their strategy the centuries of prison resistance that was part of the psyche and DNA of Irish republicans. Bobby Sands’ writings often made reference to heroes from previous phases of struggle.
‘Thomas Clarke is in my thoughts.’ he wrote, ‘and MacSwiney, Stagg, Gaughan, Thomas Ashe, McCaughey.’
And even while facing into his own death Bobby’s thoughts turned to comrades who had died on hunger strike in English prisons. He wrote:
‘I have come to understand and with each passing day I understand increasingly more and in the saddest way, that awful fate and torture endured to the very bitter end by Frank Stagg and Michael Gaughan. Perhaps – indeed yes! I am more fortunate because these poor comrades were without comrades or a friendly face. They had not even the final consolation of dying in their own land.’
Connolly, Pearse, Clarke, Ashe, MacSwiney, Stagg and Gaughan were the heroes we looked to for inspiration. We were never going to let them down.
To go on hunger strike is, as you would imagine, a massive decision. It isn’t just a matter of whether you can see it through to the end, you also have to take account of the impact your actions will have on your family. Bobby highlights this in the very first entry in his diary on March 1st, 1981
‘My heart is sore because I know that I have broken my poor mother’s heart, and my home is struck with unbearable anxiety. But I have considered all the arguments and tried every means to avoid what has become the unavoidable: it has been forced upon me and my comrades by four and a half years of stark inhumanity.’
It was a widely held view back in those days in 1981 that it was inevitable someone would die on the second hunger strike. It is a measure of the man who Bobby was therefore, that he decided he would lead the second hunger strike, initially on his own, only to be joined after a two-week interval by Frank Hughes. As far as Bobby was concerned if anyone was going to die it would be him, but that there would be a two-week window in which he hoped the British would move to resolve the situation before others died.
Bobby’s inner strength was unbelievable and is reflected in much of his writings. In his poem the ‘H-Block Trilogy’ he wrote:
All things must come to pass as one
So hope should never die.
There is no height or bloody might
That a freeman can’t defy.
There is no source or foreign force
Can break one man who knows
That his free will no thing can kill
And from that freedom grows.
Bobby’s strength was always an inspiration to me especially when I got word that I would be replacing Big Doc on the hunger strike. I received a small comm from the leadership of the Army that was addressed to Volunteer Pat Sheehan. And although my heart was in my mouth because of what I expected to read, I was pleased to see Volunteer in front of my name, because I have always been and always will be proud to have been a Volunteer in the Irish Republican Army.
The comm was short and to the point, it said:
‘You have volunteered to go on hunger strike and have been selected to replace Volunteer Kieran Doherty. By embarking on this course of action you will be bringing the movement into direct confrontation with the enemy, so if you have any second thoughts step aside now and nothing less will be thought of you. However, if you go ahead with your decision you will be dead in two months.’
It was as stark and as blunt as that and it definitely rocked me back on my heels. But that was the reality of what faced all of us going on hunger strike, not least Bobby himself. But Bobby was our leader, he was the first and I’ve no doubt everyone else drew inspiration from his leadership. I know I certainly did.
Bobby also led the way in other areas of the struggle. He was the first republican of our generation to stand for election in the North when he was a candidate in the Westminster by-election in April 1981 while he was on hunger strike. Maggie Thatcher had asserted that the prisoners had no support and that the IRA had no support. Massive pressure was brought to bear on the electorate from all quarters not to vote for Bobby. Despite all of that the people of Fermanagh and South Tyrone came out in their thousands and 15 elected Bobby as a member of the Westminster Parliament and in the process blew Thatcher’s assertion completely out of the water.
It was a very emotional day, not least for us in the Blocks. There was apprehension and nervousness beforehand because if Bobby had lost Thatcher would have crowed that even his own people didn’t support him. That would have been a massive demoralising blow for us.
But with Bobby’s victory came elation. Despite being locked up naked in a seven foot by eight-foot concrete cell I can honestly say it was one of the happiest days of my life. When we got the result from the smuggled radio I leapt in the air and jumped around the cell like a man possessed without making a sound because we had been warned beforehand whatever the result we were to remain quiet or else the screws would know we had a radio and begin searching for it. What a great day that was. The people of Fermanagh and South Tyrone had vindicated and validated our right to be recognised as political prisoners.
Forty-five years on looking back, I’m sure many would agree that was the day criminalisation was defeated. It was also the day we in the H Blocks and Armagh realised we were not alone. It showed the incredible potential for the future of our struggle.
Today, in 2026, we are the largest political movement on the island of Ireland. An Irish republican holds the First Minister’s role in a state that was designed for that never to happen. Unionism wants to turn back the clock. They won’t succeed. The change that has happened, and the change that is continuing to happen has one destination – new united Ireland.
The Orange state is gone. Unionist domination is gone. The opposite of what the British intended with their criminalisation strategy has come to pass and we are within touching distance of ending the injustice of partition and reuniting our country.
Today we are in a better place. We no longer need our young women and men to risk their lives and liberty on active service or hunger strike in prison cells. By their heroism and sacrifice Bobby and the other hunger strikers ensured the cause of Irish freedom was renewed. Their bravery set in motion a series of events that makes the momentum for political and social change unstoppable and irreversible.
That’s not to say there isn’t work to be done. We all need to put our shoulders to the wheel because Irish unity is not inevitable, we need to make it happen.
Forty-five years after his death in the H-Blocks Bobby Sands’ name lives on. He is honoured and revered not only here in Belfast but right across Ireland and further afield. He is an icon and legend for freedom loving people throughout the world, especially those living under oppression.
In recent weeks, Bobby’s memory and legacy has been attacked by those who have a selective memory about their own party’s association with conflict and violence. We know the DUP was involved in setting up Ulster Resistance. We saw DUP leaders strutting about in red berets. And it is a historical fact that Ulster Resistance was involved in the importation of a large shipment of weapons from the apartheid regime in South Africa that was then used to kill hundreds of innocent nationalists. So I say to unionists – save your lectures and your moralising for others – we will commemorate our patriot dead in our own way.
In 1981 Margaret Thatcher failed to criminalise Bobby Sands and his comrades. Forty-five years later, today in 2026 those in unionism will also fail. This statue of Bobby Sands has pride of place and will have pride of place here in Twinbrook, in Bobby’s home community for generations to come.
When all of us here today are dead and gone and largely forgotten about, Bobby Sands will still be remembered. He and his comrades will remain a beacon of light for freedom loving people everywhere.
There is a monument to the hunger strikers in Havana, Cuba. Gerry Adams and I unveiled another monument on Robben Island in South Africa. I spoke at the unveiling of a large mural of Bobby in Rome, Italy. You will also see his image on the separation walls in Palestine. There are streets named after Bobby as far away as America, France and Iran. And here in Belfast we have this magnificent statue of Bobby.
Bobby Sands will be remembered as a great leader of our struggle, a freedom fighter, a revolutionary and a socialist. But he was also a community activist, a musician and song writer, a poet and prolific writer. He was also a gaeilgeoir, bhí grá aige dár dteanga dhuchais. He was a political prisoner of war and a blanket man. His spirit was unbreakable We see that again and again in his writings, especially in the H-Block Trilogy poem:
They lounge in might and glory bright
This empire once so grand.
With bloody fleets and dirty feats,
They built it without span.
But tank or gun they have not one
To break a blanket man.
Bobby Sands is a hero. A hero to West Belfast. A hero to the republican community. And a hero to all those struggling for freedom and justice across the world. Bobby resisted until his last breath. He continues to inspire us today, and every day.
On the occasion of his twenty-seventh birthday on 9th March 1981 Bobby wrote the following in his prison diary:
‘Well I have gotten by twenty-seven years so that is something. I may die but the Republic of 1916 will never die. Onward to the Republic and the liberation of our people.’
Today we salute Óglach Bobby Sands.
