The forgotten deportees

ON THE night of Saturday March 11, 1923, more than 100 Irishmen and women across Britain were rudely awoken by police, arrested, before being bundled into train carriages and taken to ports across the country. Amid much confusion, these men and women were transported by boat (above) to Ireland and imprisoned. Their crime: anti-Treaty activities committed against the newly established Irish Free State, during the height of the Irish Civil War.

The deportations caused shock and outrage on both sides of the Irish Sea. The episode is well documented due to the lengthy legal battle launched by the London-Irish figure, Art O’Brien, and the extensive tabloid and political coverage this led to. Former prisoners who applied for military service pensions or those who gave statements to the Military History Bureau also recalled their chilling ordeal years later.

For some, they had been imprisoned in the land of their birth, and some, by the Free State which they had helped come into existence through their involvement in clandestine organisations, such as the Irish Republican Army and Cumann na mBan. However, many were British-born and some were not even linked to the organisations the British and Irish states saw as terrorist organisations.

Out of those people deported, 38 were from Scotland, mainly from Glasgow and its surrounding areas, although arrests were also made in Linlithgow and Dundee. Most of the prisoners were men, but 19 women were also arrested, four of which were from Glasgow—Pidge Duggan, Mary Nelson, Molly Duffy and Elizabeth Moran (sometimes spelt Morrin).

This group, along with the 72 others from London, Liverpool and Manchester were taken to Mountjoy Prison upon arrival in Dublin, where they were separated by gender and asked to sign an oath of loyalty to the Irish Free State. They were told if they signed, they would be freed. The prisoners refused, claiming that this act would be viewed as an admission of guilt. And so began the start of a three-month legal battle, fraught with cruelty and confusion.

Questions, questions

This incident raises a plethora of questions. Who were these men and women? Why were they arrested? Why were they deported from Britain to the Irish Free State? The people who were arrested were young and old, ranging from young boys and girls in their late teens, to people reaching their 60s. The majority were men, but 19 women were also arrested and deported—a sizeable minority. Their occupations varied. Many were white collar workers who were well known in their communities—teachers, business owners and tradesmen and women.

Why these specific people were arrested is a trickier question to answer. Officially, the arrests were ordered under the Restoration of Order in Ireland Act 1920, which was an act of parliament aimed at increasing convictions of Irish Nationalist rebels in Ireland during the Anglo-Irish War. Section 14B of this Act made it possible to ‘intern persons who were reasonably suspected of being engaged in action which was destructive to good government and order in Ireland, in any place which might be directed by constituted authority.’

The official reason given by the British and Irish authorities was that these people had been arrested for conspiring with anti-Treaty forces, or ‘irregulars’ in Ireland, who opposed the 1921 Anglo-Irish Treaty and the creation of the Irish Free State. Files from the National Records of Scotland and the National Archives at Kew show that police had collected intelligence on numerous people they believed to be involved such activities. These people had been shadowed, their correspondence interceded and their memberships to Irish organisations scrutinised. However, reading through this evidence highlights that while some of those arrested were established figures in the Republican, anti-Treaty movement, such as Art O’Brien of London or Joseph Robinson of Glasgow, some had less tangible ties to any such movement. Kathleen Brooks of London had no ties to the IRA or Cumann na mBan. The only ‘connection’ Brooks seemed to have had was her membership of the Gaelic League in London. Indeed, it was stated in police files that the reason for her arrest was an incriminating letter addressed to an ‘M Brooks,’ and Kathleen’s middle name was Mary.

The reasons for the deporting the prisoners, rather than incarcerating them in Britain, are even less clear. The Restoration of Order in Ireland Act implicitly ceased to be effective with the establishment of the Irish Free State. What seemed to justify the deportations was the fact that those arrested were Irish and should therefore be dealt with in the newly established Free State. It seemed a harsh and confusing punishment to those deported, some of whom were born in Britain and had never even stepped foot in their ancestral homeland. The male deportees wrote a letter to the Home Secretary, WC Bridgeman, in which they expressed their thoughts on why they had been deported, arguing that the Home Office used the Order to get ‘awkward political opponents’ out of their way, after failed attempts at curtailing the use of public halls for Irish Republican organisations in cities across Britain.

Prison conditions

Conditions in Mountjoy were appalling. The women were incarcerated in the hospital wing of the prison. Catherine ‘Kitty’ Furlong of Liverpool stated in her compensation claim that she shared a cell meant for two with five other women. The cells had no stools, tables or beds. Instead, there were damp mattresses stuffed with oakum, dirty blankets, and unsanitary toilet arrangements. The hospital wing where the women were incarcerated was near the soldiers’ quarters and canteen. According to the testimonies, the women were kept awake by indiscriminate firing from these quarters. They also stated that soldiers would fire into the exercise yard while they were out of their cells. Violence and intimidation by soldiers were a common occurrence. For example, on March 25, one of the London prisoners, Grace Lally, was suffering from diarrhoea and requested that the prison door be kept unlocked so that she could access the lavatory. The deputy governor arrived at their cell in a drunken furore, accompanied by seven armed soldiers and abused the women in the cell for 15 minutes. He brandished a light in their faces, knocked over units and insulted them with ‘lurid language.’ The door to their cell remained locked until 11am the next day. Kathleen Brooks claimed that this worsened Lally’s condition and sent the other women into a ‘state of paralysis.’

Conditions for the men were not much better. The male deportees wrote a letter to WC Bridgeman, Secretary of State for the Home Office, protesting their arrest and deportation, which gives an insight into the conditions in Mountjoy. They wrote that they were debarred from the ‘facilities of ordinary prison life’ which included not being able to obtain parcels, tobacco or newspapers. They described the conditions as unsanitary, stating that they had to sleep on the floor on dirty mattresses with no pillows and were not supplied with soap or towels.

Contact with the outside world was limited despite initial promises by prison officers, causing much distress amongst the prisoners and their families. In the aforementioned letter, male prisoners stated that upon their arrest they were told they would be able to send and receive one letter a week, but had since been told no letters were allowed. Correspondence between the mother of Grace Lally—a teacher from London—and the Home Secretary highlights that the governor at Mountjoy prevented the deportees from sending letters and receiving parcels of clothing. Kitty Furlong also attested to this, stating that all correspondence was prevented from being sent out until Easter Sunday, which was April 2, almost a month after their arrival at Mountjoy.

Outrage, protest and legal challenges

The deportations sparked outrage amongst Irish communities in Britain. Branches of the Gaelic League, Sinn Féin Clubs and Irish Defence Leagues across the country wrote letters of protestation to the Home Office. The Irish people of Dundee wrote to the Scottish Office after a meeting at the Blackness Hall on April 19 and condemned the deportations as ‘kidnappings,’ noting that one of their own—a teacher by the name of Patrick O’Neill—had been deported. Numerous left-wing organisations also protested the arrests. The Scottish Office received letters from the Central Edinburgh Branch of the Independent Labour Party, the Bridgeton Divisional Labour Party, the Independent Labour Exchange Branch of Glasgow and the National Unemployed Workers Committee, Kingston Division, all condemning the arrests and deportations.

From the inside of the prison walls, a legal challenge was being pursued. Art O’Brien, leader of the Gaelic League in Britain and a stalwart of the London-Irish community. Shortly after his arrest, his solicitor contacted Sir Patrick Hastings KC, a Labour MP and a successful barrister. Hastings encouraged O’Brien to challenge the arrests and deportations under the Act of Habeus Corpus. The British 1679 Habeus Corpus specifically prohibited the illegal imprisonment of British subjects ‘beyond the seas.’ The implication was that the establishment of the Irish Free State repealed the Restoration of Order in Ireland Act and made any action under it invalid.

O’Brien was an influential and well-connected figure, which placed him in a strong position to fight on behalf of the other deportees. His relationship with Labour MPs, including George Lansbury and Shapurji Saklatvala, ensured that the arrests and deportation were brought up in parliament numerous times. Ramsay MacDonald, leader of the Labour Party, queried the legality of British-born people being tried in Ireland for crimes committed in Britain. As a result, the pressure was on the British establishment to prove that the deportations were lawful.

In May 1923, the deportees were transported to the North Dublin Union, where their treatment was even worse. Sorcha Nic Diarmada—a teacher based in London—recalled how three female prison officers hit her and roughly pinned her to the ground, causing her to pass out. She later exclaimed in her witness statement to the Military Bureau of history: “You could hardly believe Irish people would do these things.” Other prisoners were showing the effects of their treatment, too. Nora Spillane of Liverpool developed an ulcer in her leg, while Mary Egan of London developed pneumonia and sciatica from being made to stand in a damp, overcrowded cell.

O’Brien’s legal challenge eventually led to success. After initially being turned away by the Divisional Court, the Court of Appeal reversed this decision and decided the Order of Ireland Act 1920 was not applicable as the Irish Free State had since become an independent nation where the Act had no jurisdiction. The Home Office appealed this decision to the House of Lords, who also ruled in O’Brien and the deportees’ favour. All those imprisoned were transferred to Britain, and released, although O’Brien was immediately re-arrested and spent another year in prison.

Compensation

The deportees were entitled to hefty compensation from the treasury. In August 1923, the Scottish deportees were heard in court. The Scottish Office ended up shedding out high amounts of money, with WH Hutchinson of Glasgow receiving the most, more than £1560 owing to his business being closed while he was imprisoned. This was to the frustration of the Treasury, however, the solicitor representing the Treasury in the Scottish case wrote to the Lord Advocate, stating: “The sums claimed are large, but if there is truth in what the Claimants say about their treatment in Mountjoy, I cannot say that the claims are excessive.”

The English cases were heard in September that year. The amounts awarded were somewhat smaller, but nonetheless more than what the Treasury expected. Despite this, many deportees spoke of the effect the arrests had on their livelihoods. Roisin ni Chillin—a teacher from London—stated that she lost her job as a school teacher due to objections from parents, while Mary Egan stated she lost her position as a housekeeper owing to the injuries sustained while imprisoned. Other deportees spoke of the mental impact of their imprisonment. The doctor assessing Margaret Leonard posited that she was suffering from the condition, stating that she complained of ‘disturbed sleep… unpleasant dreams… lack of energy and depression at times…numbness and pins and needles sensation in arms… and an aching sensation in the cardiac region.’ The doctor also added that she had not suffered from these conditions prior to her arrest. Upon returning to her job as a teacher, Kathleen Brooks had a nervous breakdown, and was sent to the coast to take the sea air to try and calm her nerves—a common treatment for ‘hysterical women’ during this time.

Although the deportees received generous compensation, many were scarred by their traumatic experiences of deportation and imprisonment. Despite their deep roots in their communities, the British Government viewed them as ‘other’ and believed they could deport them from their homes, families and livelihoods. This episode serves as an important reminder of the status of the Irish in Britain during this period, and the illegal deportation and imprisonment of this group has important parallels with the detainment and treatment of members of migrant communities—both first and second generation—that is still happening today.

Dr Niamh Coffey holds a PhD in history from the University of Strathclyde. Her work specialises in transnational histories of Irish Nationalism and gender