Belfast Agreement at 25: I was notetaker for dad, Rev Robert Coulter, during early exploratory talks with unionists

One such person was my late father, Rev Dr Robert Coulter MBE, a former North Antrim Ulster Unionist Party MLA for 13 years and a past chief whip of the party in the Northern Ireland Forum for Political Dialogue, who died in September 2018. In fact, this tale is how I was almost caught spying on a government minister who was at my parents’ home for secret talks in the 1980s. This is not to decry or minimise the work which many other supposed back channels on all sides were involved in; this is just the personal record of one such person; one cog in the mighty machine which became the peace process.

When Brian Mawhinney, then Tory MP for Peterborough, was dispatched to the Northern Ireland Office (NIO) in the months after the signing of the Anglo-Irish Agreement (AIA) of 1985, I was working as the Education Correspondent at the Belfast News Letter. Mawhinney, as a junior minister at the NIO, was given the education portfolio, which naturally brought him into contact with me on a regular basis. Mawhinney also got to know that I was, like him, a born again Christian, and that my dad was an Ulster Unionist councillor in Ballymena, and a Presbyterian minister. All these factors helped form a very effective working relationship with the Belfast-born Conservative MP. But could it also be used to help kick-start the peace process so far as unionism was concerned?

In the aftermath of the Hillsborough accord of November 1985, political unionism snubbed the NIO. There was a rule that there was to be no talking between Unionist elected representatives and NIO ministers. The UUP leader at that time, Jim Molyneaux, had taken a personal political hit when the prime minister Margaret Thatcher signed the accord behind his back. I recall ‘Gentleman Jim’ sitting in the kitchen of our home neat Ballymena virtually in tears in the days after the signing of the Anglo Irish accord. In spite of this political kick in the teeth, Lagan Valley MP Jim and his fellow UUP MP for South Down Enoch Powell remained committed integrationists, believing that power should ultimately rest with Westminster.

But in 1986, especially after the disastrous March Day of Action which descended into violence between loyalists and the police, many middle class folk in the pro-Union community became disillusioned with the street tactics of the Ulster Says No campaign. However, it became clear that some liberal-thinking devolutionists with UUP sympathies had become concerned about the clear stagnation between political unionism and the NIO. They attempted to clear this logjam by starting a series of secret talks with the NIO.

Molyneaux, as a staunch integrationist, was concerned about the nature of the outcome of such talks. He felt some of these devolutionists would negotiate some form of devolution for Northern Ireland which would seriously weaken the Union – a type of Sunningdale Mark Two in which Dublin would pull the strings. After all, the AIA had witnessed the creation of the Maryfield Secretariat near Belfast which was giving Dublin a real say in the running of Northern Ireland affairs. And what were the unionists doing? They were tramping the wet streets of Northern Ireland with their Ulster Says No and Ulster Still Says No campaigns, and achieving nothing!

Many unionist councillors were either preventing business being properly done in council chambers, or were snubbing NIO ministers and officials when they visited areas. Again, nothing was being gained for unionism politically. Molyneaux was a frequent visitor to our home. He and dad had built a very effective working relationship though their respective roles in the loyal orders, especially the Royal Black Institution. At that time in the 1980s, there were rumours of talks between the SDLP leader John Hume and Sinn Fein president Gerry Adams about bringing republicanism in from the political cold. The fear Molyneaux expressed was if these progressed to such a degree and some of the more liberal devolutionists within unionism got a deal, the unionist right-wing would be severely weakened and the UUP could be drastically overtaken by Paisley’s DUP at the ballot box.

Dad and I emphasised to Molyneaux that while we respected his integrationist principles and rule from Westminster, unionists in Northern Ireland needed to enter a talks process. The dilemma now was, talks are needed, but who can do the talking? Molyneaux would have to tread very carefully because if the DUP got knowledge that UUP folk were trying to kick-start talks with the NIO when the joint unionist policy was ‘no talking’, it could be very electorally damaging for the UUP.

Given my good working relationship with Mawhinney, Molyneaux agreed that I could approach Mawhinney to see if he would be willing to meet my dad for talks at my parents’ home near Clough, in Co Antrim. As I was not married at the time and was still living at home with my parents, the cover story would be that Mawhinney had come to my home to discuss education matters with me as Education Correspondent.

Using the Education Correspondent/NIO Education Minister channel, and with Molyneaux’s full knowledge, a meeting was arranged between Mawhinney and dad. I would be dad’s note taker on the strict understanding that none of the notes would be reproduced in the News Letter. If the DUP got suspicious that dad was having a meeting with Mawhinney and if there was a leak, then the cover story would be used that it was me that Mawhinney was meeting because of some education story I had published in the News Letter and that the DUP had merely confused Bob Coulter with John Coulter as I lived in the bungalow, too.

The purpose of the meeting was to kick-start the talks process with the NIO, but not give liberal concessions. Mawhinney’s ministerial car was hidden in the garage at my parents’ home so that passing motorists would not see it parked outside. While my parents’ home was built in the north Antrim hills, the living room contained a large bay window which looked out over the Braid valley. It was a very relaxing location for the talks. There was even a jovial ice breaker. While the prime minister Thatcher had banned Peter Wright’s controversial book, Spycatcher, a relative had got me a copy from the United States and it was undiplomatically placed on the coffee table in front of Mawhinney. Wright had been a former assistant director of MI5 and his banned book was a candid autobiography of a senior intelligence officer. Thankfully, Mawhinney saw the joke!

After the unusual small-talk about the magnificent view from the bay window, the talks began in earnest. It soon became clear that the fledgling Hume/Adams talks were progressing better than anything the unionists could offer. After all, the Springmount Talks as I dubbed them were very much in the embryo stage. At one stage, in spite of dad’s polite negotiating manner, it seemed they would collapse without any agreement on a way forward. It appeared that Mawhinney wanted the UUP to make the same concessions the NIO had supposedly gained from the previous talks with the alleged ‘devolutionists’.

But this was an emphatic ‘no, no’ from Molyneaux. Ironically, it was my mum who saved the day. At just the precise moment, she knocked on the door of the living room and produced a couple of her famous Presbyterian home-made apple tarts! Talks on hold; enjoy the tarts, admire the view once more. Situation calmed. Once the actual talking began again, mum’s tarts had done the trick and the conversation progressed more smoothly.

Dad outlined carefully and politely what the UUP would be prepared to work towards. Mawhinney and his senior civil servant listened intently. I could tell by watching Mawhinney’s body language that he was keenly interested in what dad was outlining – but had it sunk in? After more intense talking, Mawhinney excused himself to go to the bathroom. He was directed towards my parents’ bathroom, affectionately known as the Blue Lagoon because of the colour of the tiles!

Some 20 minutes elapsed and Mawhinney had still not returned. Surely he could not have had a tummy reaction to mum’s apple tarts. I decided to investigate. The Blue Lagoon door was still shut and as he was nowhere to be found in the bungalow, it was logical to assume he was still inside. I knew the lock on the Blue Lagoon was working perfectly so it was not an embarrassing case that an NIO minister had got himself stuck in the toilet of an Ulster Unionist councillor. I was about to go back into the bay window living room when I could hear a mumbling coming from the Blue Lagoon. Slowly I crept along the carpet to the Blue Lagoon and pressed my ear against the door.

Was Mawhinney sitting on the toilet talking to himself? It was then that I remembered that these were the days before neat mobile phones which could fit smoothly into your pocket. When Mawhinney had asked to be excused, he had taken a chunky cordless phone with him. He was certainly talking to someone in the toilet, but who? I decided to take a gamble; I would press my ear to the door in the hope I was not caught by the minister suddenly opening the Blue Lagoon door. It was then that I heard Mawhinney issue those immortal words: “Prime Minister.” It was immediately clear Mawhinney was on a phone to Margaret Thatcher relaying the content of the talks with dad.

It was time to get back to the bay window living room without being discovered. I had only taken my seat a few minutes when Mawhinney returned. Mawhinney was certainly in an upbeat mood and the remainder of the meeting was merely summarising the two sides’ positions. It was agreed that future meetings would be conducted via civil servants. There would be no face to face meetings between Molyneaux and Mawhinney – except in the corridors of Westminster.

Dad would travel to Molyneaux’s home in Crumlin for a briefing and then arrange to meet civil servants at certain roundabouts, usually at late hours. Some DUP folk did find out about the Mawhinney meeting at Clough, but the cover story of Mawhinney meeting me about education held firm. The Clough meeting did end on a light-hearted moment as Mawhinney was leaving. Jokingly, I produced our copy of Spycatcher and asked Mawhinney if he would autograph it, to which the civil servant promptly jibed – “And when shall I release your resignation statement minister!”

Needless to say, Mawhinney was shrewd enough not to autograph a contentious book which had been banned by his boss, The Iron Lady.

• Dr John Coulter has been a journalist since 1978, including with this newspaper

When Brian Mawhinney, then Tory MP for Peterborough, was dispatched to the Northern Ireland Office (NIO) after the signing of the Anglo-Irish Agreement of 1985, I was working as the Education Correspondent at this newspaper, the Belfast News Letter.

Mawhinney, as a junior minister at the NIO, was given the education portfolio, which brought him into contact with me. He got to know that I was, like him, a born again Christian, and that my dad was an Ulster Unionist councillor in Ballymena, and a Presbyterian minister. All these factors helped form an effective working relationship with the Belfast-born Conservative MP.

In the aftermath of the Anglo Irish Agreement (AIA) of November 1985, political unionism snubbed the NIO. There was to be no talking between unionist elected representatives and NIO ministers. In the days after the prime minister Margaret Thatcher signed the accord at Hillsborough behind his back. I recall the UUP leader Jim Molyneaux in the kitchen of our home near Ballymena virtually in tears.

Lagan Valley MP Jim and his fellow UUP MP for South Down Enoch Powell remained integrationists, believing that power should rest with Westminster. But in 1986, especially after the disastrous March Day of Action which descended into violence between loyalists and the police, many middle class folk in the pro-Union community became disillusioned with the street tactics of the Ulster Says No campaign. Some liberal-thinking devolutionists with UUP sympathies started a series of secret talks with the NIO.

Molyneaux, as a staunch integrationist, feared some of these devolutionists would negotiate a form of devolution - a Sunningdale Mark Two in which Dublin would pull the strings. The AIA created the Maryfield Secretariat which gave Dublin a say running NI.

Many unionist councillors were either preventing business being properly done in council chambers, or were snubbing NIO officials when they visited areas. Nothing was being gained for unionism.

Molyneaux was a visitor to our home. He and dad had a working relationship though their respective roles in the Royal Black Institution. At that time in the eighties, there were rumours of talks between SDLP leader John Hume and Sinn Fein president Gerry Adams about bringing republicanism in from the political cold. Molyneaux was concerned that if liberal devolutionists within unionism got a deal, the UUP could be overtaken by Paisley’s DUP at the ballot box.

Dad and I emphasised to Molyneaux that while we respected his integrationist principles, unionists needed to enter a talks process. This would have been around 1987. If the DUP got knowledge that UUP folk were trying to kick-start talks with the NIO, it could damage the UUP.

Molyneaux agreed that I could approach Mawhinney to see if he would meet my dad for talks at my parents’ home near Clough, in Co Antrim. As I was still living at home with my parents, the cover story would be that Mawhinney had come to discuss education with me as Education Correspondent. A meeting was arranged between Mawhinney and dad. I would be dad’s note taker on the understanding that no notes would be reproduced in the News Letter.

The purpose of the meeting was to kick-start talks, but not give concessions. Mawhinney’s ministerial car was hidden in the garage at my parents’ home so it would not be seen outside.

There was even a ice breaker. While Prime Minister Thatcher had banned Peter Wright’s book, Spycatcher, a relative had got me a copy from the America and it was placed on the coffee table in front of Mawhinney. Wright had been in MI5 and his book was a candid autobiography of a senior intelligence officer. Mawhinney saw the joke!

The talks began in earnest. It soon became clear that the fledgling Hume/Adams talks were progressing better than anything the unionists could offer. At one stage, in spite of dad’s polite manner, it seemed the Springmount Talks as I dubbed them (our house was called Springmount) would collapse. It appeared that Mawhinney wanted the UUP to make the concessions the NIO had supposedly gained from the previous talks with the alleged ‘devolutionists’.

My mum saved the day! She knocked on the door of the living room and produced her home-made apple tarts! Talks on hold; enjoy the tarts, then the conversation progressed more smoothly!

Dad outlined what the UUP would be prepared to work towards. Mawhinney and his civil servant listened intently. Mawhinney excused himself to go to the bathroom. Twenty minutes elapsed and he had still not returned. Surely he could not have had a tummy reaction to mum’s apple tarts! I decided to investigate. As he was nowhere to be found in the bungalow, it was logical to assume he was still in the bathroom. I could hear a mumbling from it.

Was Mawhinney sitting on the toilet talking to himself? This was before neat mobile phones which could fit smoothly into your pocket. When Mawhinney had asked to be excused, he had taken a chunky cordless phone with him. I would press my ear to the bathroom door in the hope I was not caught by the minister suddenly opening it.

It was then that I heard Mawhinney issue those words: “Prime Minister.” He was on a phone to Margaret Thatcher relaying the talks with dad.

Mawhinney was in an upbeat mood when he returned to the living room. There would be no meetings between Molyneaux and Mawhinney - except in Westminster. Dad would travel to Molyneaux’s home in Crumlin for a briefing and then meet civil servants at certain roundabouts, usually at late hours.

Some DUP folk did find out about the Mawhinney meeting at Clough, but the cover story of Mawhinney meeting me about education held firm.

A decade or so later that the Belfast Agreement was signed. I had seen the origins of the peace process on the unionist side, and it operated at a snail’s pace.