How loyalists got out of step with fascism

Britain's far right groups welcomed links with Protestant paramilitaries, but Henry McDonald delves into a new book which reveals that this strange alliance eventually ended in betrayal.

Recalling his days selling race-hate literature in London's East End, Matthew Collins says: "We took the traditional Brick Lane Sunday drink with the BNP that day, watching strippers and eating a selection of mussels and whelks off the bar."

All they would have needed was a Cockney-style sing-song of Horst Wessel Lied and Deutschland Uber Alles around the old Joanna and that would have topped off a perfect National Socialist Sabbath for Matthew and his comrades.

The above memory isn't the only unintentionally hilarious anecdote contained within Collins' new book, Hate - a recollection of his time both in the National Front and the British National Party.

His evolution from the son of an Irish Catholic father to a fascist street fighter mouthing mantras of 'No Surrender to the IRA' is peppered with bizarre and often achingly funny passages, which in turn highlight how absurd, perverse and out of touch with reality most of his far right chums actually were back in the 1990s.

There are, however, more sinister segments of the book and they include his relationship with Ulster loyalists who had latched onto the NF and other neo-Nazi organisations in Britain.

Of these the most prominent is Eddie Whicker, a UDA member from Belfast who became somewhat of a personality on the London far right scene at the time Collins was an active fascist. Whicker was one of the most militant of the extreme right street thugs taking on leftists, some of whom marched in pro-IRA rallies in the UK capital and other British cities.

Reading Collins' fascinating memoir raised questions as to how useful, if at all, the various parties and groups on the far right were to the Ulster loyalist cause. The answer to that question, taking a long view of history, would be hardly at all. In fact, Hate confirms the analysis put forward by the likes of the late David Ervine that the far right's embrace of the loyalist cause was nothing short of embarrassing.

There can be no doubting the connections established from the early 1970s onwards between the NF, BNP and the more extreme Combat 18 to the two main loyalist paramilitary organisations. On a political and, dare one say social level, the disparate British far right were the only supporters of the Ulster loyalist cause in Britain.

Apart from their traditional allies in Scotland, particularly within the Orange Order and the Rangers football team's support base, loyalism's allies were few and far between.

While loyalists across the sea could feel very much at home in parts of Scotland's central belt or the Ayrshire coast, your average working class Ulster Protestant would feel a greater sense of isolation in English cities, particularly the multi-cultural/racial conurbations.

As Collins attests to in his book, the NF and other rival organisations at least provided a home for an Ulster loyalist away from home but still in touch with the cause.

Logistically, the efficacy of British neo-Nazi help for loyalist armed groups has been wildly exaggerated. There were a number of gun running plots such as the one involving Frank Portinari, an English UDA member of Italian Catholic extract in direct touch with 'C' Company and a friend of the UDA killer John White.

The important thing to remember about Portinari's gun smuggling operation was that it was soon busted by the security forces.

In reality the people who gained the most out of British fascism's embrace of loyalism were MI5 and Special Branch.

Charlie Sergeant, for instance, crops up several times in Collins' book as a prominent Combat 18 thug and strong supporter of Ulster loyalists. Yet after Sergeant was tried and convicted of stabbing a rival neo-Nazi to death it transpired he was also a police informant whose work included spying on any potential loyalist arms smuggling operations in the south-east of England.

The Ulster Volunteer Force did, of course, meet with the extreme neo-Nazi Belgian VMO in the early 1980s. The Flemish fascists were fascinated with the home-made engineering skills of Ulster loyalists who were manufacturing their own sub-machine guns. In return, the VMO promised to hand over plastic explosives, as long as the UVF attacked a Jewish target in Belfast. This suggestion convinced the UVF envoys sent to meet the pro-Hitler terrorists that they were dealing with nutcases. The UVF search for explosives switched to commercial, ideologically neutral arms dealers.

On a propaganda level the activities of a handful of loyalists in England like Whicker was undoubtedly damaging. It only projected and solidified the notion that the average loyalist was as much a bone-headed, shaven, beery-breathed bigot as their neo-Nazi buddies smashing up Brick Lane. The ceasefire, of course, and the emergence of Ervine, Billy Hutchinson and other articulate loyalist politicians, changed all that.

Observers of the far right will point to the career of Johnny Adair, who started his politico-paramilitary career in the NF. In retirement on the west coast of Scotland, Adair has admitted he always had his doubts about the English neo-Nazis, suspecting many of them of being "touts" or just terror-tourists not really serious about waging war on the republican movement.

It is worth remembering that throughout his life Adair maintained an enduring love for one English band who emerged out of the post-Punk era. The group was comprised of two brothers from a left-wing background who sang about racism in America's Deep South and who wrote socialist protest songs against Thatcherism and mass unemployment.

To this day Adair loves UB40. That's how serious the British neo-Nazis' favourite Ulster poster boy was about their message of racial purity and ethnic hatred.

Belfast Telegraph