The Armalite and the TV Screen

The English documentary-maker was delighted. He was making a film on life inside The Maze Prison which would subsequently be broadcast under the title Enemies Within. At the time, republican prisoners were taking part in the "blanket protest", refusing to wear prison clothes because they felt that to do so would have been a tacit acceptance of the authorities' view of them as "common criminals".

The reason for the broadcaster's upbeat mood was that he had just conducted an interview with the Secretary of the Prison Officers Association, Desmond Irvine. On film, Irvine had made it plain that he did not agree with the republican prisoners' position, but then went on to state, "I suppose one could say that a person who believes sincerely in what he is doing and is prepared to suffer for it, that there must be a measure of respect for him."

This was a remarkable admission for someone who held such a position, and when the documentary was aired it created great controversy. Irvine wrote to the maker of the film, thanking him for giving an accurate portrayal of his views and also informing him that he had been told by the spokesman of the Provos that they "respected my frank answers to your questions." A fortnight later the Provo spokesman's comrades on the outside shot Desmond Irvine dead. A Belfast journalist phoned Peter Taylor, the man behind Enemies Within and asked him how it felt "to have blood on your hands." Now, more than 20 years later, Taylor still recalls the period as the most personally distressing in his career covering the northern conflict.

Taylor did, however, continue reporting on Northern Ireland, and is currently back in the spotlight again due to his three-part series Loyalists, which is being broadcast on BBC. He has also written a book of the same name. Both are compelling. As well as interviews with well-known figures such as Ian Paisley and John Taylor, they also feature encounters with former loyalist paramilitaries, some of whom appear to have few reservations about talking about the murders they committed.

It would be doing Taylor a disservice, though, to imply that the main reason for watching/reading his work is to be found in the schlock horror factor. In fact Loyalists traces the development of radical unionism in great detail and with an admirable lack of bias. Loyalism at its most ugly is here in the shape of unblinking descriptions of the deeds of The Shankill Butchers, The Miami Showband Massacre, Greysteel and Loughinisland. So too, however, are first-person accounts of the motivations for those who joined the UVF or UDA, and their feelings about the horrors perpetrated upon their community by the IRA.

Peter Taylor is the most experienced of any British TV journalist when it comes to reporting on Northern Ireland. The first time he set foot on Irish soil was on the evening of Bloody Sunday. He went to Derry, was horrified by the locals' account of what had happened, and from that point on his interest has never waned. He has made more than 50 documentaries on the subject, while Loyalists is his sixth book. Many of his previous efforts have been ground-breaking, most notably Beating the Terrorists?, an account of civil rights abuses by the British Government which won the Cobden Trust Award for contribution to Human Rights in 1980.

Two years ago, he penned the counterpart to Loyalists, Provos: The IRA and Sinn Féin, which attracted critical acclaim for its account of the Republican Movement over the past 30 years. Had it always been his intention to make two companion series?

"When we started out making Provos, it wasn't with a view to doing that, no," he replies. "But it was during the making of Provos that we realised that there was an entirely different story to examine, looking at the selfsame events. If you look at it from the Loyalist side then you get a completely different picture."

But did the fact that Provos was obviously made with the close assistance of the Republican Movement make it more difficult for Taylor to get those on the other side of the political divide to tell their story?

"My concern when I went to them initially was that I expected them to show me the door," he admits. "[I thought] they would say, 'you know, Taylor's a Provo-lover', which Taylor most certainly is not. But they didn't. They'd all watched Provos, because it provided an insight into their enemy, the people who they'd been trying to kill."

The thought of the likes of the PUP's Billy Hutchinson nestling down for a quiet night in to watch IRA hard men like Martin Meehan or Brendan "the Dark" Hughes on TV is slightly bizarre. Nevertheless, according to Taylor they accepted Provos for what it was, and they were happy to go along with this on the same basis.

When reporting on such a polarised situation, though, is there not always a danger that people who have been persuaded to appear may not be happy with the way their case is presented? After all, in the public perception at least, Taylor's interviewees are not men who tend to take personal slights calmly.

"I always make it clear at the very beginning what I am doing and how I propose to do it," the broadcaster responds. "The only way that you can survive doing what I, and many of my colleagues, do in covering the Irish conflict is by being absolutely straight with people. They don't expect you to do a propaganda job for them. At the beginning of both Loyalists and Provos we told them that for it to have credibility it has got to be like it was at the time, warts and all. And, all credit to them, they accepted that."

Has he ever been seriously threatened or felt that his life was in danger?

Taylor answers circumspectly for the only point during our interview: "I try not to think about it, because if you do, then you can't do your job. You've got to be generally confident, but I have felt . . . a little nervous interviewing some people."

"Also, I think you have to remember that whenever you get to know these people, they are very different," he continues. "They would kill; they would do something very nasty to you if they thought you were a British agent or something like that, but they are unlikely to do anything unwarranted . . . That's what I like to think."

British agents are one thing, but many on the nationalist side would claim that British journalism hardly covered itself in glory during the darkest days of the Troubles.

"British coverage is much maligned," Taylor responds. "If anything, its fault was that it tended towards the coverage of the latest atrocity. Everyone would arrive like the fire brigade or the 5th Cavalry, do the report, and then go home again. But, even so, there were always a good many exceptions to that."

"In the '70s and '80s it was very difficult to cover it in the way you wanted to," he goes on. "Now people who are shaking hands with Prime Ministers or who are international celebrities of a kind, are, on both sides, people who were directly or indirectly involved in what would have been called terrorism. The climate has changed, therefore one has much more freedom to do things. Only a couple of years ago you couldn't have heard these people's voices."

The length of time Taylor has been reporting on Northern Ireland must give him a particularly acute perspective on the transitions that have been made by some of the north's pivotal figures. I decide to lob one name at him—that of recent Hot Press interviewee Martin McGuinness.

"I first saw Martin McGuinness in Derry at the Bloody Sunday funerals," he replies instantly. "Somebody said to me 'that's the fella you want to keep an eye on', and pointed to a young man with curly hair. Later on I met him at The Gasworks which were said to contain the Provos' headquarters in the Bogside at the time. And subsequently I have seen him grow up through the whole situation."

"But I have one particularly vivid memory from early on. I remember asking him in 1972, 'How long can this go on for?' And he said, 'Well, as long as it takes, really. But I'd much rather be washing the car and cutting the grass on a Sunday afternoon than doing what I'm doing'."

"I always remember that answer. People laughed at me when I said I believed him, but I did believe him because, you know, that's Martin McGuinness."

Changed times?

"When you look at the journey that people like Martin McGuinness have made—and Gerry Adams, who I used to meet in darkened rooms on the Falls Road in the 1970s—it is an astonishing story, really quite astonishing."

Adams and Ian Paisley are, of course, the most controversial political leaders in the north. Could Peter Taylor, to borrow examspeak, compare and contrast the two men?

"Both represent the very essence of the extremes of their community," he says. "I don't mean extremes in terms of the minority of minorities, but Adams is republicanism to his supporters and his community. He is the epitome of republicanism, but he has also brought that movement out of the darkness and into what we all hope is the light."

"Although Paisley would describe himself as a unionist, he is the epitome of loyalism. He has been absolutely consistent, going way back into the 1960s, with his message of 'No Surrender' and 'Never, Never, Never'. He does represent that gut and core of the loyalist heartland who will never ever accept a United Ireland. You can never, never, never, write off Ian Paisley. Even now, he's sitting there waiting for Trimble to fall."

Which brings us neatly to the penultimate (and $64,000) question. Does Peter Taylor believe the peace process will work?

"I think so. But with enormous difficulties," he begins cautiously. "I think that so much has been invested in it that there is no turning back. Or if there is a turning back, it's a turning back to what we have all been through. In fact, one of the points of doing the series was to remind people how horrendous those years had been."

And, irrespective of how things turn out, will Peter Taylor be there to report on developments, or has his quarter-century involvement been wrapped up with this series?

"I will carry on covering Ireland for as long as it needs to be covered," he replies with zest. "And I wouldn't wish for it to be any other way."

The final part of Loyalists will be screened on BBC 1 this Sunday night (7th March). The book of the television series is published by Bloomsbury, priced stg £16.99. Peter Taylor will speak at Hodges Figgis bookshop, Dawson St, Dublin 2 at 7pm tonight (Thurs 4th March).