Plaque on Pearse Street Garda Station
In recent weeks, a new plaque was unveiled on Pearse Street Garda Station, remembering a night of espionage a century ago this very month.
Working away from their base in the Great Brunswick Street station of the Dublin Metropolitan Police (today Pearse Street Garda Station), the job of the ‘G Men’ was to infiltrate and incapacitate radical political organisations in Dublin. Their ‘Movement of Extremist’ files today make for compelling reading, showing that republicans, socialists, suffrage campaigners and others deemed politically subversive were closely monitored as they went about their political and personal lives.
The eyes and ears of British intelligence on the streets of the Irish capital, the G Division had been in place since March 1843. The body were detested by advanced nationalists, with the newspaper Nationality writing in July 1915:
Most people know what a ‘G Man’ means. He is a person, nearly always of Irish origin, who volunteers to look after Irish Nationalists. He is a secret policeman, though in most cases his secret is an obvious one, owing to the size of his general appearance. The members of the ‘G’ Department are countless. They shadow Nationalists, and report the names of those who associate with Nationalists. They follow men and inquire at the houses which they have visited. They travel on railways and report conversations.
And yet, the system could be crippled. Changing political sympathies of men working within state intelligence, as well as interpersonal relationships (impossible to avoid in such a small society) meant that ‘G’ Men and others working in state intelligence could become double agents. There was also a ruthlessness in the Republican movement post 1916, and a determination to strike at intelligence operatives, that transformed the ‘G Men’ from a cocky body of men who had the confidence to literally walk through nationalist gatherings and commemorations in the pre-1916 world, into a body which feared for their lives every time they stepped into the street. Michael Collins, head of the IRA’s Intelligence campaign, understood this perfectly, maintaining that “Our only way to carry on the fight was by organised and bold guerilla warfare. But this in itself was not enough. England could always reinforce her army. To paralyse the British machine it was necessary to strike at individuals outside the ranks of the military.” Soldiers could be replaced easily. When an Intelligence officer was removed from the picture, it was more difficult for a man to fill those boots.
The carved heads of DMP men still appear in the stonework of Pearse Street Garda Station.
Crucially important to the efforts of Collins was Ned Broy. Attached to the DMP ‘G’ Division, Broy’s political sympathies rested firmly instead with the political radicals the body was spying on. Broy’s statement to the Bureau of Military History post-independence details his families involvement in nationalist politics in Kildare and the strong feeling locally:
…deep down in the people’s hearts burned strongly a bitter hatred of English rule with its soldiers, police, informers, landlords and followers, who composed ‘England’s Faithful Garrison’. We of the Rising generation hated the very name of England, her shires, towns and rivers, and that hatred was intense before we had yet read a line of Irish history.
In January 1911, Broy joined the DMP Depot. He maintained that by comparison to the Royal Irish Constabulary, there were nationalists working within the Dublin policing force:
In the Depot we all fearlessly and openly discussed the national question and it was the first place I heard the song ‘The Men of the West’. The majority of us expressed strong national views but there was, to our surprise, a small minority whose views were diametrically opposed to national aspirations. However, we felt that in the event of police opposition to Home Rule, as was forecast, we have no small say in enforcing the national will no matter who would be against us.
That someone of such political sympathies could become the confidential clerk of G Division is remarkable. In this capacity, he allowed Michael Collins and Seán Nunan into the premises. Nunan, like Collins, had been actively involved in Irish republican separatist circles in London, and had partaken in the Easter Rising. He would serve as Secretary to Éamon de Valera, President of the First Dáil, and was someone Collins had great faith in. In the early hours of the morning on 7 April 1919, Broy allowed these men into the police station to pursue the files of ‘G’ Division:
The same key opened the political office and opened the secret small room, built into the wall, which contained the records. I gave Michael Collins and Seán Nunan the candles and, getting them to close the door fairly tightly, I left them to carry on their investigation.
Nunan recounted later that “Collins and I stayed…listing the names and activities of the detectives on political work, until about 4am, when we walked home – Collins to Mountjoy and I to Botanic Road.”
Mere days passed before IRA men on the streets were accosting ‘G’ Men, warning them against zeal in carrying out their duties. Just as the ‘G’ Men gathered files on Irish republicans, Collins and his team would built a counter-intelligence network that did likewise.C.S Andrews would go as far as to maintain that “for the first time in the history of separatism we Irish had a better intelligence service than the British. This was Michael Collins’ great achievement”.
In late July 1919, Detective Sergeant Smith, known as ‘The Dog Smith’, was gunned down on the orders of Michael Collins. Sergeant Daniel Hoey would be killed outside ‘G’ Division Headquarters at Great Brunswick Street in September. Broy would remain deeply important to the Collins intelligence operation, often leaving documents for him with the librarian at the Capel Street Library on Dublin’s northside. When detected, he would be imprisoned, and released after the Truce. His policing days were far from over, with Broy later serving as Commissioner of the Gardaí. The intelligence body formed on his watch, becoming known popularly as the ‘Broy Harriers’, would continue to monitor the ‘Movement of Extremists’ in a new Ireland.