Gerald Nash (Louth, Labour) | Oireachtas source

In the 1930s and 1940s Ireland was a country replete with contradictions. An achingly conservative and insular theocracy, it was a State in its infancy working to assert itself in the early years of independence. In the shadow of a former colonial ruler, there was an almost pervasive and deep-seated resentment of, and antipathy towards, Britain which was held by a substantial proportion of Irish men and women. This was perhaps understandable in the context of the time with bitter memories of the War of Independence and the Civil War fresh in the collective memory.

Controversially, we chose to stand outside the conflict during the Second World War. While our nascent State made that decision for us, there were tens of thousands who chose to take a different stand. My grandfather, the late George Kearns, was one such person. He joined the British Navy of his own volition and, like his father before him, he served in the British forces. This did not make him any less of an Irishman. It was an all too typical story of any working class family from Drogheda, Dundalk or any other major urban centre at that period in our recent history.

If these people - and they were mainly men - have been largely written out of the history of official Ireland, what of the 5,000 members of the Defence Forces who absented themselves from their posts between the outbreak of war and the end of hostilities in 1945? We are here today to eradicate a stain from Irish history and to write a wrong that we are now mature and confident enough to resolve.

There is no doubt that those who deserted or absented themselves without leave, committed a serious offence but they were denied the opportunity to account for their actions. It has been my central contention that this is a fundamental right afforded to all soldiers around the world.

The introduction of the Emergency Powers Order No. 362 in 1945 meant that many of those returning heroes were blackballed and treated as pariahs and traitors by a political and bureaucratic class who did not have the courage to stand up to the local parish priest, let alone to global fascism. Therein lies the paradox.

Today is an opportunity formally to say sorry in our national Parliament to those who were subjected to the harshness of what was known as the list. It is an opportunity to pay tribute to the sacrifices they and their comrades made, this great heroic generation whose numbers sadly are now greatly diminished.

Since I first started to campaign on this issue a number of years ago, I have received an extraordinary response from both home and abroad. Many stories and insights have been shared with me and I was privileged to hear and to witness them. I commend people such as Peter Mulvanny, for example, who continually raised awareness of this injustice, author and historian Robert Widders for his book, Spitting On A Soldier’s Grave, Irish journalists such as John Maher, who have helped to shine a light into the stories of families whose lives were deeply affected by the implementation of the aforementioned list, as well as John Waite of the BBC, who helped to bring this remarkable story of injustice to a wider British and global audience on a frequent basis. The Minister and the Government also should be proud of the generous and courageous decision taken, while at all times respecting and recognising that all Members of this House and all citizens of the State quite correctly and rightly give their allegiance at all times to the Defence Forces.

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