In 1971, the UK government closed 100 Irish border crossings and cratered them with explosives

The motorway from Belfast to Dublin earlier this month. Image: Getty.

William Gladstone is said to have remarked that, whenever a solution to the ‘Irish Question’ was found, the Irish secretly changed the question. Historian Piers Brendon provided an equally droll rebuttal: “The trouble was that the Irish question remained the same – how to get rid of the Union?”

A generation after Gladstone’s death, the Anglo-Irish Treaty cemented the partition of Ireland following the 1920 Government of Ireland Act. The sectarian underpinning of partition ensured towns and villages were cut off from hinterlands, farms were split, and local businesses suffered.

This land border between the Republic of Ireland and the UK extends over 300 miles. Crossing points range from motorways and dual carriageways to secondary roads and dirt tracks, many known only to locals. As the ‘Troubles’ escalated from 1970 onwards, IRA arms and explosives sourced in the Republic or smuggled there from abroad were often transported over the border into Northern Ireland. In 1971, Ulster Unionist MP William Stratton Mills referred to this as a “gelignite trail across the border”, drawing parallels with the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

That August, the Stormont government’s decision to introduce internment without trial, directed solely at the nationalist population, led to a sharp increase in violence. In response, the government announced that all “unapproved” border crossings were to be cratered and made impassable. Ostensibly, this initiative – along with increased military security on the “approved” roads – would reduce the violence by starving Northern IRA units of supplies. Some suspected, however, that hardline members of the Ulster Unionist Party, such as John Taylor (now Baron Kilclooney), were using the opportunity to hermetically seal their state off from the Republic once and for all. The decision to close “unapproved” border roads was taken unilaterally: the government of the Irish Republic were not consulted.

Both Official and Provisional wings of the IRA issued warnings to the British Army about cratering operations. The Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association also warned of its alienating effect on locals, pointing out that

“anybody determined to take arms or explosives into the North would not be deterred by holes in the road. The only people to suffer would be members of the local community, farmers, housewives and schoolchildren who had to make long detours as they went about their daily business.  The total effect iss to bring about the resentment of the army.”

The Irish-American journalist, P. Michael O’Sullivan, witnessed a full-scale border riot in County Tyrone, between locals and British soldiers during a cratering operation in late 1971. This was not atypical. Republican militants, many of whom were part of these border communities, were quick to see the strategic advantage in targeting British Army cratering operations. Following an Official IRA gun attack on a British Army squad engaged in cratering operations, that organisation released a statement referring to cratering as

“an act calculated to disrupt the lives of many people who depend upon the roads for their day-to-day travel… We wish to thank all the people of the area for the support they gave to our units and for their prompt action in filling the road. We pledge ourselves to defend their rights whenever similar acts of aggression are carried out by the British Army under instructions from Faulkner’s bully boys like John Taylor.”

The following year, the Official IRA unsuccessfully attempted to assassinate Taylor, grievously wounding him in a shooting. The organisation’s statement following the attack noted: “Mr Taylor was the main advocate of the policy of cratering Border roads. This policy was designed to heighten tension along the Border.”

Numerous newspaper reports from Northern Ireland in the last quarter of 1971 report locals refilling roads after British Army operations. After just a few weeks of the operation, the cost for supplies – explosives, vehicles – was estimated at £10,000 in the currency of the time.

By the end of the year, a joke was circulating among political circles in Belfast and London regarding the road cratering strategy: Ulster Unionists wanted all the cratered roads on the border to be marked as holes on a map. The map was then to be presented by British officers to Prime Minister Edward Heath with the instructions to tear along the dotted line.

When the British Army sought to blockade roads with anti-tank traps instead of cratering, locals simply used construction machinery to remove the “spikes” as soon as the army left the scene. Sometimes, they did not even wait that long.


With time, the value of this tactic towards reducing violence was bound to be questioned – particularly as Provisional IRA attacks on British Army border operations were becoming increasingly sophisticated and commonplace. On one occasion in December 1971, soldiers came under sustained rifle and machinegun fire from the border, just 150 yards away.

Although the troops succeeded in cratering the road, this was their third time having to do so. On both previous occasions, locals refilled the road as soon as the soldiers had left. A newspaper report of the incident noted that “local residents were last night making plans to fill them again.”

The following month, a British soldier was killed by concealed mines during a cratering operation. Several days earlier, a British Army helicopter was reported to have fired on an IRA unit attempting an ambush of a cratering party. Gunfire from the helicopter was indiscriminate and struck houses on the southern side of the border, causing a diplomatic event.

In January 1972, over 1,000 rounds were fired in an exchange between the British Army and Provisional IRA units on the border. Following the encounter, a claymore-type bomb was found and defused. The command wire from the bomb ran over the border into the South.

The same day, John Taylor claimed that cratering led to “a considerable decline” in the number of hit-and-run attacks along the border. Taylor also acknowledged that nearly half of the 140 roads that were made impassable had been filled in again by locals.

Three days later, the Parachute Regiment indiscriminately fired into a Civil Rights demonstration in the city of Derry, killing thirteen civilians; another man later died of his wounds. Any remaining bonds of support for or tolerance towards the British Army within the nationalist community had been irrevocably broken. The conflict had entered its bloodiest year where, at its height, the Provisional IRA were conducting attacks across the border daily.

Earlier this year, a parliamentary committee reported on the possible outcomes for the border between Northern Ireland and the Republic as part of the Brexit strategy:

“33,000 members of the Armed Forces were deployed in Northern Ireland. If you talk to veterans, I do not think you will find a single officer who thought the border was sealed for one hour during that period. All the evidence is that it was not.”

George Hamilton, Chief Constable of the Police Service of Northern Ireland, believes that any physical infrastructure along the border would become the subject of “unhelpful attention” from militant Irish republicans. He has emphatically ruled out any border situation which would make his officers into “sitting ducks”.

Any proposal to address the border issue – the new “Irish question” – must be mindful of past and future; potential support for militant Irish republicans today and the inability to police the border with thousands of troops during the three decade-long ‘Troubles’.

 
 
 
 

City of Ruin: On Resident Evil’s Raccoon City

Photo: Wikipedia via Creative Commons

With the release of Capcom’s remake of Resident Evil 2 on Friday 25 January, gamers will return to the terrifying streets of one of the most iconic cities in video games: the zombie-infested Raccoon City.

Despite first being mentioned in 1997’s original Resident Evil, that game took place entirely in a mansion outside the city and it wasn’t until the 1998 sequel that we actually got to explore Raccoon City itself.

Since then, it’s become a recurring location in the games series and various spin-off media, even though – and this is an unavoidable spoiler, so abandon this article now if you’re planning to go into the remake completely cold – Resident Evil 2 ends with the city being comprehensively nuked by the US government.

In fact, the series returned to Raccoon City a year later in 1999’s Resident Evil 3, an asset-reusing fill-in instalment that cleverly loops around the events and locations of Resident Evil 2 and gives the player another, more detailed look at the city’s final destruction.

Raccoon City RIP, from Resident Evil 3. The author of this piece was not allowed to have the piano theme from the credits as music at his wedding.

Since then, the 1998 fall of Raccoon City has been revisited in the two Resident Evil Outbreak titles, in the Umbrella Chronicles and Darkside Chronicles light gun Wii games, and in the shockingly mediocre online shooter Operation Raccoon City, as well as the Milla Jovovich-starring live action film series.

Although the plot line of the main game series has moved on to new locales and time periods from 2005’s Resident Evil 4 onwards, the franchise clearly left a part of itself on the streets of Raccoon City in 1998, and can’t help but repeatedly return. But why?

To answer that we need to look at what kind of games the Resident Evil series are, their genre roots and the continuity that’s built up within the games themselves – and how these elements have created an eccentric idea of an average American city.

The original Resident Evil had horror game precedents in titles like Alone in the Dark and the film adaptation, Sweet Home – even sharing a developer, Capcom, and a director, Shinji Mikami, with the latter – but it twisted these influences and precedents to create a new sub-genre: survival horror.

The survival horror genre is distinguished by the cautious, steady exploration of a contained environment, facing off against horrific creatures that constantly threaten to overpower the player, who must conserve scarce resources like ammo and health top-ups. As opposed to game genres where environments are dashed through while shooting wildly, survival horror games, and their steady pace, demand locations that reward attention.

The live action introduction to the characters in the original Resident Evil. Mysteriously this technique hasn’t been used in the series since.

The first game, called Biohazard in its native Japanese but renamed Resident Evil in English, opened with a ridiculous live-action video in which an elite team of cops – as seen in the video above – wind up in the creepy Spencer Mansion located in the Arklay Mountains near Raccoon City. There, our heroes, part of the elite and very coolly acronymic STARS team, face off against zombies and other genetically engineered monsters created as weapons by the evil Umbrella Corporation.

Player characters, Chris or Jill, move from room to room in the mansion, fighting off monsters and making progress by solving baroque puzzles where rooms are locked by mysterious keys and booby trap devices. As the plot unfolds Chris and Jill realise that they’ve been set up, acting as experimental subjects to provide data about the combat efficiency of Umbrella’s Bio-Organic Weapons, or BOWs for short.

Gameplay from the original Resident Evil. NSFW due to gore and terrible voice acting.

Although we don’t go near Raccoon City in the first game, it sets several precedents that shape the urban space encountered in the sequel. The game relies on confined spaces and environments in which the player struggles to escape a looming zombie, with doorways to pass through to move from one small area to another. As well as building tension this is a technical issue – the dramatic fixed camera angles allow the backdrops to each screen to essentially be pre-rendered still images on which animated characters and interactive items move, allowing in turn for a much higher resolution in the backgrounds than was possible for moving 3D environments at the time – which lends the world of the game a distinct, atmospheric feel, the sense of a real, detailed place.


The fiction of the game justifies the Spencer Mansion’s weird layout and complex locks partially through its use by the Umbrella Corporation as a secret laboratory and testing facility, and partially through the story of the Mansion’s eccentric architect, George Trevor, who installed all these traps and puzzles on the orders of Umbrella’s founder, Ozwell Spencer. These narratives are told through documents found around the Mansion and its grounds.

The final element here is one of genre. If you’re a Resident Evil newcomer, you may well have read the past few paragraphs and thought “this makes absolutely no sodding sense whatsoever”, and you wouldn’t be wrong. The most obvious genre precedents for the series are the zombie films of filmmaker George A Romero, but the series also takes influence from the considerably less coherent European knock offs Romero inspired, all through a lens of Japanese horror, which is far more prone to abstraction and nightmare logic as well as post-Hiroshima concerns about mutation.

These overlapping influences shaped Raccoon City itself – a city in the mid-western United States, created by Japanese game developers in the mid to late 1990s taking influence from zombie films of the 1970s and 1980s, some of which were shot in Europe. Factor in the technical and gameplay requirements, and you end up with a uniquely skewed vision of an American cityscape.

The original Resident Evil 2 opens with the zombie outbreak well underway, and protagonists Leon and Claire stranded in a Downtown area overrrun with the undead. The narrow streets are rendered narrower by crashed cars and barricades, evidence of the carnage that has occurred and failed defensive efforts. The opening scenes of the game are a hectic dash through cluttered streets and a crashed bus to get to a gun shop and the game’s first major environment, the Raccoon Police Department. Resident Evil 3 revisits Downtown and the RPD, filling in restaraunts, shopping streets, an area under construction, an electricty substation, the City Hall, a gas station and a tram station.

The unusually narrow streets of Raccoon City as seen in Resident Evil 3.

Resident Evil 3 also adds the adjacent Uptown area with warehouses, sales offices, bars and residential streets that border on tenements in their density and narrow alleys. Between the two games the ruined city is a beautiful example of stage-managed desolation, with distant screams and evidence of horrors past strewn across the cluttered chaos. It’s also ridiculous, a toytown version of a city where industrial, residential and commercial activities are piled upon each other. The George Trevor school of architectural madness is also in full effect, with the RPD building being a converted art gallery complete with doors that are opened by manipulating statues, and gates to City Hall that unlock when a clock outside is completed.

An eccentric approach to architecture and city planning is one hand wave explanation for why Raccoon City doesn’t make much sense, another within the fiction is that it’s an Umbrella Corporation company town, with their labs and facilities scattered across the city. Every business and facility can hide a lab or storage area for Umbrella. In Resident Evil 2, the sewers and a cable car trip lead to a dead factory hiding a lab facility in the Raccoon City outskirts, an underground lab revisited (or pre-visited?) in Resident Evil Zero and the Outbreak games.

In Resident Evil 3 a disastrous jaunt in a tram leads to the city hospital which hides a lab full of reptilian monstrosities, then on through the park, across a dam and into another dead factory hiding another laboratory. 

As much as anything makes sense in Raccoon City, there’s a sort of logic to seeing the city as a giant laboratory in which the local population are bred as guinea pigs, who can be snatched up and experimented upon in the individual facilities across the city. It’s a groteseque but not entirely inaccurate caricature of urban space where the masses live and die at the whim of the corporate forces who shape the city for their own purposes. The cramped urban spaces of Raccoon City, where industrial, residential, and commercial areas pile up on each other in a mass of twisty, narrow streets that are barely more than corridors, add a level of dream logic to this scenario, making for an evocative urban nightmare.

The boring, sensibly proportioned streets of Operation: Raccoon City

While the Outbreak games added new areas to Raccoon City – a zoo, a university by the sea – their adherence to the oppressively warped architecture and geography of the series made these additions of a piece with their predecessors. Other adaptations have been less successful: the Chronicles and Operation Raccoon City games turned the streets into open boxes for less contained, run-and-gun-type play, completely losing the rich detail and claustrophobia that made Raccoon City such a unique place and turning it into... well, something resembling a real city, with streets wide enough for cars and buildings with sensibly broad corridors. That nightmarish quality was entirely lost.

Hopefully the Resident Evil 2 remake released this week will, amongst all its high definition upgraded gore, retain Raccoon City’s convoluted, unrealistic geography. The story of an apocalyptic event reducing an American city, the supposed apex of Western civilisation, to carnage and despair will always have a certain perverse appeal, and the fall of Raccoon City, in all its nightmarish eccentricity, is one of the greatest iterations of that story. Long may we keep being allowed to revisit it.

Resident Evil 2 is released for PS4, XBox One and Microsoft Windows on 25 January 2019.