The following oration was read by Joe Dowds, a member of the Ard Comhairle, at the commemoration to mark the fiftieth anniversary of the 1975 pogrom against our movement.

A chairde,

We gather here today — in solidarity, and in pride — to mark fifty years since one of the most tragic and revealing episodes of our struggle.

Fifty years since the 1975 pogrom, carried out by the so-called Provisional alliance against members, supporters, and families of the Republican Clubs — the movement that would become The Workers’ Party.

Between the 29th of October and the 11th of November 1975, eight people were murdered — including a six-year-old girl, Eileen Kelly. Dozens more were injured, driven from their homes, or terrorised for their political beliefs. This was not random violence. It was a deliberate attempt to wipe out a republican tradition that rejected sectarianism — and insisted that the freedom of the Irish working class and the freedom of Ireland are one and the same struggle.

Our movement — Official Sinn Féin, the Republican Clubs, and today Republican Clubs The Workers’ Party — draws its politics not from sectarian tribal division, but from the teachings of Theobald Wolfe Tone and James Connolly. Tone called for unity of Protestant, Catholic, and Dissenter. Connolly demanded a republic worthy of its people — a socialist republic of the workers. Leaders like Cathal Goulding, Tomás Mac Giolla, and Seán Garland took those principles seriously. They understood that a genuine revolutionary movement cannot rely on sectarian conflict or on shadow armies — but on organising working people to transform society.

That is why, in May 1972, the IRA declared a ceasefire “in view of the growing danger of sectarian conflict.” At Bodenstown that June, Seán Garland set out the path to build a mass, democratic, secular movement of the working class. A year later at Tone’s grave, their concerns having been proven founded through an increase in sectarian violence, Billy McMillen underlined the precarious nature of the situation at the time, stating that “we stand not on the brink of victory, but on the brink of sectarian disaster.”

It was a brave shift and a recognition of the reality of the situation — and some malcontents folded under the pressure of the times. In 1974, a faction broke away to form the IRSP and the INLA. They sought to return to the direction that they had disavowed just five years prior, where sectarian conflict and secret armies — not class struggle and a mass movement of the working class — would be the order of the day. They discarded political progression to prioritise guns, and they turned their guns first on their former comrades.

Seán Fox. Paul “Cheesy” Crawford. Billy McMillen. Murdered in the early months of 1975 — not by loyalists, not by the British Army — but by adventurists who falsely claimed the title of “republican.” The violence did not stop there. On the 29th of October 1975, a coordinated wave of attacks spread across Belfast. Armed gangs forced their way into homes in Andersonstown, Turf Lodge, Twinbrook, the Markets, the New Lodge, Ballymacarrett and the Ormeau Road. The British Army — ever-present when repressing nationalist communities — was conveniently nowhere to be seen.

That night in McKenna’s Bar in the Markets, three men watching television were shot. Robbie Elliman was murdered. Others were badly wounded. Elsewhere, a 78-year-old blind man was beaten because they could not find his son.

The next evening in Beechmount, shots fired through a window killed six-year-old Eileen Kelly in her own home — the intended target being her father. An empty apology came — and then the killings continued. Within a day, Tom Berry was murdered outside the Sean Martin GAA Club.

Families were marked out as their homes were sprayed with white paint. People fled into the night. Workers were beaten as they left for their shifts. Even former members were hunted.

On the 3rd of November, Jim Fogarty was shot dead in front of his pregnant wife. On the 9th, John “Mario” Kelly was killed. The 11th of November saw the worst of this violence: 19-year-old Jackie McAllister was murdered waiting for a bus. Comgall Casey was executed in his workplace. John Browne was  shot outside his home on the Ormeau Road.

In eleven days, eight were dead. Countless lives were shattered. And yet — despite everything — the Republican Clubs refused to be broken. On the 1st of November, in the very midst of the attacks, activists took to Royal Avenue with a simple message: “Sectarianism Kills Workers.” They then buried their friend Robbie Elliman with dignity and defiance.

From their hospital beds, wounded comrades sent their message: “We pledge our full solidarity with those who continue to suffer attack outside.” That courage — that refusal to bend — is why we stand here today. The pogrom failed in its purpose. Republican socialism endured, reorganised — and in 1982, emerged proudly as The Workers’ Party. It is perhaps fitting that we stand here today under the banner of the Workers’ Party Republican Clubs, reclaiming a word that has been misused and abused by charlatans for their own personal gain in our communities, as well as to ingrain themselves within the political establishment.

Some of those who proclaim themselves “republicans” today are the same people who, in their murder of our comrades, rejected what has been the anti-sectarian nature of the term since the time of Tone. Now, they work hand-in-hand with those who they once swore were their enemies, together ensuring that the north of Ireland ranks last in any number of metrics relevant to living standards on these isles.

In a sense, however, they have had no choice but to accept that the basic premise of our analysis in 1975 was correct: sectarian conflict will not allow for society to progress. We are now in a situation of relative peace, and a generation has grown up without witnessing the level of violence that was once commonplace. As the subject of our commemoration today should make obvious, this is preferable to what preceded it. However, almost thirty years on from the Good Friday Agreement, we must now go further.

We must demand better for our class as we have always done. Housing, healthcare, and the cost-of-living are but some of the areas where we are failed by our politicians, both nationalist and unionist. As socialists, we must reject the idea that the national question should be separated from, or pursued to the neglect of, the issues of the working class. We must reject the idea that a Sinn Féin First Minister, and vague talk of a largely undefined united Ireland, is progress enough. Éamon De Valera once said that “labour must wait,” but we, comrades, look to Connolly, who declared that “the cause of labour is the cause of Ireland, the cause of Ireland is the cause of labour.” 

The same political ideal that made us targets in 1975 is the same political ideal that still guides us today: a democratic, secular, socialist republic of the working class. We have never bowed to the sectarian division of society, carefully fostered by the capitalist class and politicians to secure their powerful status. We must continue in our work of building the party. Every leaflet delivered, every stall held, every statement released, and every meeting organised is how we can honour our fallen on a regular basis, attempting to build a better Ireland not for one section of the Irish people, but for all, just as they did.

Fifty years on, we honour those murdered in 1975 not only as victims of that violent time — but as activists of a living cause. As people who stood for unity when others demanded division. As workers who risked — and gave — their lives for a better Ireland.

And so we read their names with pride:
Roll of Honour — 1975
Seán Fox
Paul “Cheesy” Crawford
Liam McMillen
Robert Elliman
Eileen Kelly — aged 6
Tom Berry
Jim Fogarty
John “Mario” Kelly
Jackie McAllister
Comgall Casey
John Browne
They died for an Irish socialist republic.
In ár gcuimhne go deo.

Comrades, may their memory always remain, may their courage be our inspiration, and may we honour them — not only in words — but in the continuing struggle for the better Ireland that they believed in.

Go raibh maith agaibh.