Stephen Goss is an historian, policy and research manager, and a Conservative councillor in Reading.
After getting married, my parents left Andersonstown to set up home in a Belfast suburb away from the battlefield of nationalist West Belfast in which they’d grown up. Predominately a Protestant area, it was sufficiently mixed that a Catholic couple (should the fact happen to emerge) moving in wouldn’t be an issue.
Amongst our neighbours and friends were a prison guard and a serving member of the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC). One night while leaving West Belfast after visiting family, we were stopped at one of the RUC check points that would pop-up as a matter of course throughout the Troubles; and who was manning it? No less than our neighbour.
Such was his surprise and delight at the coincidence, the usual taciturn formality of the police gave way to friendliness and affability – much to my dad’s great discomfort. He discreetly conveyed to our neighbour that if anyone observing the checkpoint, be they IRA or sympathiser, saw this familiarity, he was placing us at grave risk. The exchange immediately shifted to the (semblance) of conventional primness.
In the mid-1990s, to be identified as friendly with the police was enough to make you a traitor in the eyes of violent republicans. You could then be dealt with accordingly. Worse, as far as they were concerned, to actually be a serving member of what they called “Crown forces” made you a legitimate target; more than 300 members of the RUC were killed over the course of the Troubles.
Despite the success of the peace process, there is a rump of republican terrorists who believe that Sinn Féin sold out. They are therefore determined to carry on the fight, and bomb and murder their way to that hallowed united Ireland.
This is why, across the UK’s constabularies, police in Northern Ireland are the only ones to be routinely armed; such is the risk to their personal safety that they are permitted to keep their firearms after they retire.
A quarter of a century after peace was agreed, and with the replacement of the RUC by the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) to make the force more representative of and trusted by nationalists and republicans, it is still dangerous to serve in the police in Northern Ireland.
PC Stephen Carroll was shot and killed by the Continuity IRA in 2009 while responding to a bogus 999 call; PC Ronan Kerr was killed outside his home by a car bomb planted by a remnant of the Provos in 2011. In February this year, off-duty Detective Chief Inspector John Caldwell was shot by the New IRA as he left a session with the under-15s football team he coached. The team – including his son – watched in terror.
For any organisation, a data breach is always embarrassing and undermines public confidence. When it happens to an arm of the state, however, it can have serious repercussions. The enormous data breach the PSNI suffered last week is humiliating, but much more worryingly, it endangers the life of every serving member and each of the civilian staff supporting the police.
Two things make this even worse (if that is possible). Firstly, it was entirely self-inflicted; secondly, it is the second time in just over a month highly sensitive information has been lost by the PSNI.
In early July documents including the names of 200 PSNI personnel, along with a police radio and PSNI-issued laptop, were stolen from a car just north of Belfast. It has now been revealed that, in responding to a Freedom of Information request, the PSNI accidentally shared the names of all serving members, their ranks, the stations from which they operate, and their units – including if they are in surveillance or cooperating with MI5.
The information freely provided also contains the names of civilian staff, their grade, and working locations. A spreadsheet containing all this sensitive information was subsequently posted online before being removed two and a half hours later.
As a result, 10,000 people are now sitting targets for dissident republicans. Given the day-to-day risk of serving in the PSNI, many do not reveal what they do for a living. Those from a Catholic background tend to be particularly reticent about acknowledging it – even keeping the fact from family members.
There are now thousands of police across Northern Ireland concerned for their lives and anxious over the safety of their families. In March this year the terrorism threat level in Northern Ireland was raised to ‘severe’, meaning a terrorist attack is highly likely. This will no doubt be in the minds of the 10,000 now exposed to that threat.
In response to the débacle, Assistant Chief Constable Chris Todd stated that police were investigating the “circumstances surrounding the release”. He appreciated the “concern that this will cause many of our colleagues and families” and pledged that the PSNI would do all that it can to “mitigate any such concerns”. Comforting words to those exposed, no doubt.
Todd then warned that anyone who made use of the highly sensitive information while it was publicly available is “responsible for what they do next. It is important that data anyone has accessed is deleted immediately”. That’s the Continuity/Provisional/New IRA told then.
The PSNI is already suffering from a great deal of turbulence. There have been repeated calls from unionist parties for the Chief Constable, Simon Byrne, to resign over alleged double-standards in enforcing Covid restrictions. In June it was announced that dozens in the PSNI had been dismissed over sexism, misogyny, and wrongdoing, and the Chief Constable himself acknowledged he had sacked two staff for gross misconduct.
Last month, Byrne stated that the PSNI was under severe funding pressure, facing a £141 million funding gap which might result in a recruitment freeze, cuts to overtime, the closure of police stations, and the loss of patrol vehicles. He told the Policing Board (the police authority to which the PSNI is answerable for its activities) that, “given all the data, the risks, and the trends, that policing is clearly at a watershed in Northern Ireland”. Byrne revealed that the PSNI was losing one member a day, and that if the trend continued, 15 per cent of the current force will have left by 2025.
That was before the data breach. Given the data, the (now very real) risks, and the preceding trends, this is unquestionably a breakpoint for policing in Northern Ireland.
How many will be willing to stay on now that they have been exposed as potential targets for dissident republicans? How can the PSNI possibly recruit if it can’t guarantee the security of those brave enough to consider joining?
The PSNI is going to contract in the coming years. This will negatively impact on an already over-stretched force. We can only hope that it will be resignations and retirements, rather than murders and assassinations, that deplete the Police Service of Northern Ireland.
Stephen Goss is an historian, policy and research manager, and a Conservative councillor in Reading.
After getting married, my parents left Andersonstown to set up home in a Belfast suburb away from the battlefield of nationalist West Belfast in which they’d grown up. Predominately a Protestant area, it was sufficiently mixed that a Catholic couple (should the fact happen to emerge) moving in wouldn’t be an issue.
Amongst our neighbours and friends were a prison guard and a serving member of the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC). One night while leaving West Belfast after visiting family, we were stopped at one of the RUC check points that would pop-up as a matter of course throughout the Troubles; and who was manning it? No less than our neighbour.
Such was his surprise and delight at the coincidence, the usual taciturn formality of the police gave way to friendliness and affability – much to my dad’s great discomfort. He discreetly conveyed to our neighbour that if anyone observing the checkpoint, be they IRA or sympathiser, saw this familiarity, he was placing us at grave risk. The exchange immediately shifted to the (semblance) of conventional primness.
In the mid-1990s, to be identified as friendly with the police was enough to make you a traitor in the eyes of violent republicans. You could then be dealt with accordingly. Worse, as far as they were concerned, to actually be a serving member of what they called “Crown forces” made you a legitimate target; more than 300 members of the RUC were killed over the course of the Troubles.
Despite the success of the peace process, there is a rump of republican terrorists who believe that Sinn Féin sold out. They are therefore determined to carry on the fight, and bomb and murder their way to that hallowed united Ireland.
This is why, across the UK’s constabularies, police in Northern Ireland are the only ones to be routinely armed; such is the risk to their personal safety that they are permitted to keep their firearms after they retire.
A quarter of a century after peace was agreed, and with the replacement of the RUC by the Police Service of Northern Ireland (PSNI) to make the force more representative of and trusted by nationalists and republicans, it is still dangerous to serve in the police in Northern Ireland.
PC Stephen Carroll was shot and killed by the Continuity IRA in 2009 while responding to a bogus 999 call; PC Ronan Kerr was killed outside his home by a car bomb planted by a remnant of the Provos in 2011. In February this year, off-duty Detective Chief Inspector John Caldwell was shot by the New IRA as he left a session with the under-15s football team he coached. The team – including his son – watched in terror.
For any organisation, a data breach is always embarrassing and undermines public confidence. When it happens to an arm of the state, however, it can have serious repercussions. The enormous data breach the PSNI suffered last week is humiliating, but much more worryingly, it endangers the life of every serving member and each of the civilian staff supporting the police.
Two things make this even worse (if that is possible). Firstly, it was entirely self-inflicted; secondly, it is the second time in just over a month highly sensitive information has been lost by the PSNI.
In early July documents including the names of 200 PSNI personnel, along with a police radio and PSNI-issued laptop, were stolen from a car just north of Belfast. It has now been revealed that, in responding to a Freedom of Information request, the PSNI accidentally shared the names of all serving members, their ranks, the stations from which they operate, and their units – including if they are in surveillance or cooperating with MI5.
The information freely provided also contains the names of civilian staff, their grade, and working locations. A spreadsheet containing all this sensitive information was subsequently posted online before being removed two and a half hours later.
As a result, 10,000 people are now sitting targets for dissident republicans. Given the day-to-day risk of serving in the PSNI, many do not reveal what they do for a living. Those from a Catholic background tend to be particularly reticent about acknowledging it – even keeping the fact from family members.
There are now thousands of police across Northern Ireland concerned for their lives and anxious over the safety of their families. In March this year the terrorism threat level in Northern Ireland was raised to ‘severe’, meaning a terrorist attack is highly likely. This will no doubt be in the minds of the 10,000 now exposed to that threat.
In response to the débacle, Assistant Chief Constable Chris Todd stated that police were investigating the “circumstances surrounding the release”. He appreciated the “concern that this will cause many of our colleagues and families” and pledged that the PSNI would do all that it can to “mitigate any such concerns”. Comforting words to those exposed, no doubt.
Todd then warned that anyone who made use of the highly sensitive information while it was publicly available is “responsible for what they do next. It is important that data anyone has accessed is deleted immediately”. That’s the Continuity/Provisional/New IRA told then.
The PSNI is already suffering from a great deal of turbulence. There have been repeated calls from unionist parties for the Chief Constable, Simon Byrne, to resign over alleged double-standards in enforcing Covid restrictions. In June it was announced that dozens in the PSNI had been dismissed over sexism, misogyny, and wrongdoing, and the Chief Constable himself acknowledged he had sacked two staff for gross misconduct.
Last month, Byrne stated that the PSNI was under severe funding pressure, facing a £141 million funding gap which might result in a recruitment freeze, cuts to overtime, the closure of police stations, and the loss of patrol vehicles. He told the Policing Board (the police authority to which the PSNI is answerable for its activities) that, “given all the data, the risks, and the trends, that policing is clearly at a watershed in Northern Ireland”. Byrne revealed that the PSNI was losing one member a day, and that if the trend continued, 15 per cent of the current force will have left by 2025.
That was before the data breach. Given the data, the (now very real) risks, and the preceding trends, this is unquestionably a breakpoint for policing in Northern Ireland.
How many will be willing to stay on now that they have been exposed as potential targets for dissident republicans? How can the PSNI possibly recruit if it can’t guarantee the security of those brave enough to consider joining?
The PSNI is going to contract in the coming years. This will negatively impact on an already over-stretched force. We can only hope that it will be resignations and retirements, rather than murders and assassinations, that deplete the Police Service of Northern Ireland.