As troubled times return to Northern Ireland, it seems fitting to cast an eye toward one of the most notorious figures of the conflict who has dedicated the last thirty years to finding and keeping peace in the North.
Gusty Spence, now 75, was the godfather of the modern Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF), the Protestant paramilitary group that, in May 1966, declared war on the IRA.
Less than a month after that declaration, John Scullion, a 28-year-old Catholic, was shot in the Falls Road area of Belfast. He died two weeks later, becoming the first casualty of the modern-day Troubles.
Spence was charged in the murder but soon after his arrest, the charges were dropped. Emboldened, he and other UVF members attacked four Catholic off-duty bartenders.
One was killed.
This time, Spence was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison. From prison, Spence oversaw the UVF's murderous campaign to obliterate the IRA and its supporters. The brutality, torture and indiscriminate killing by the Spence-led UVF rivaled — and often surpassed — that of the IRA.
A ballsy 1972 escape from the infamous Long Kesh prison led to this TV appearance that effectively scared the Jaysus out of every Catholic in the Six Counties:
Spence was re-captured four months later but he had cemented his folk hero/rock star status among Loyalists (Protestants who want to preserve the union with England ... in other words — dumb asses.)
However, as Spence sat in prison month after month — and people on both sides continued to die — and he actually had occasion to speak to his republican enemies ... a change began to take place.
Spence found his conscience.
The man who put the fear of God (or at least King William) into Irish nationalists far and wide for eleven years, turned his back on violence. On Armistice Day 1977, he officially resigned from the UVF.
Upon his release from Long Kesh in 1984, he plunged into the peace process. Ten years later — after countless hours of wrenching conversations and weathering the "traitor" label from UVF hard-liners — an emotional Spence stood before the world and read the UVF ceasefire, adding his personal ""abject and true remorse" to "the loved ones of all innocent victims over the past 25 years."
It was that image — Gusty Spence courageously offering regret and hope — as much as anything that propelled the peace process toward the historic 1998 Belfast Agreement.
It was courageous because Spence's life was now in danger from both sides. It was pivotal because, until then, the world had been deprived of a human face for the Ulster Protestants. The Protestants had — understandably so — felt like the red-headed stepchild of the Northern Irish struggle.
No movies. No U2. No White House receptions.
Just violence and blame.
Not that they didn't deserve the blame, mind you, because, let's face it — England belongs in Ireland about as much as I belong in the priesthood.
But Gusty Spence was the one who brought humanity to the "Prods". And it is impossible to imagine the current peace happening without his contribution.
And the old codger hasn't let up.
In 2007 he read a UVF statement saying they were putting their weapons "beyond use" — which is fancy wordplay for burying them ... but not too deep, just in case Gerry Adams falls off the pacifist wagon.
Spence immediately regretted the statement and last summer publicly blasted his former comrades for hedging their bets and challenged them to essentially get a hair on their asses and destroy the weapons unconditionally.
With yesterday's tragic shootings in Antrim by the Real IRA threatening to rip open freshly healed wounds, here's hoping that Gusty Spence's gutsy example is enough to snuff out any spasms of retribution by the UVF.
Because of Spence, many had been ready to pull the trigger.
Now, because of Spence, the trigger will fail.
Peace has been tasted and nothing can turn back the clock.
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