Denton's claims on Dublin bombings are Baseless - John O'Brien
- JOHN OBRIEN
- 6 days ago
- 14 min read
Flowers and tributes laid at the Dublin and Monaghan Bombings Memorial on Talbot Street in Dublin on May 17 after a service marking the 51st anniversary of the series of no-warning blasts which claimed more than 30 lives and injured hundreds.
The Dublin and Monaghan car bombings of 1974 were unspeakable crimes of wanton savagery, executed with total disregard for human life and suffering.
Terrible Record
Some 34 souls were murdered on that evening, 10 killed in Parnell St, 15 killed in Talbot St, and two in South Leinster St, all in Dublin. Seven were killed in Monaghan later that evening. The timings were: Parnell St, 17:28; Talbot St, 17:30; South Leinster St, 17:32; and Monaghan, 18:58.
Even in the context of the many atrocities committed at that time, a barrier was crossed into darkness. It is a matter of profound regret that nobody has been made accountable for these crimes. The memories of those dark days slip from the wider public consciousness, but never from the memories of their families and close friends. Much has been said and written about the culprits, and much of the discourse has been coloured by competing political narratives. Many promises have been made and broken, and there is no way that justice can prevail in the truest sense of that word.
Cumulative Weight of Evidence
The cumulative weight of the evidence leads to a consistent conclusion that the UVF could not have executed these bombings unaided.
Dublin was uniquely different
Dublin was completely different. Three synchronised car bombings in the centre of Dublin on a busy Friday evening was a unique event, never achieved before and never achieved since — and certainly not by the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF). This was a "Bomb Signature" never previously experienced North or South or indeed in the UK.
The bombing occurred during major loyalist unrest over Belfast’s new power-sharing executive, which collapsed within weeks.
I have studied this crime for many years using my experience as a member of An Garda Síochána of detective chief superintendent rank, and as a researcher and author of legacy issues. I am acutely aware of how counter-narratives can polarise discussions and obscure empirical facts.
My specific approach to the Dublin synchronised car bombings was to focus on analysing the bomb signature in Dublin. This includes the logistics, the type of explosives used, firing mechanisms, and timers. Military expert witnesses offer a very clear analysis based on their military expertise and experience.
This analysis raises very serious technical and operational details which have been disregarded in the overall discourse.
Monaghan Car Bomb
The Monaghan car bombing was a typical loyalist cross-border attack, short distance involved, hit and run using basic explosive techniques.
The Great Deception (2024)
The central conclusion emerging from my book, The Great Deception (2024), is that the UVF — acting alone — did not possess the technical, operational, or organisational capacity to execute the Dublin car bombings of May 17, 1974.
The argument is not based on speculation
but on
(A) a layered accumulation of forensic findings,
(B) expert military testimony,
(c) comparisons with the UVF’s historical bombing record,
(D) and analysis of the sophisticated planning required for the Dublin operation.
The contrast begins with the UVF’s known modus operandi. Its typical cross-border attacks — such as Monaghan — relied on stolen cars taken from border areas, fitted with crude, low-grade explosive mixtures packed into beer kegs or milk churns. The Monaghan bomb bore all the hallmarks of this pattern: A metal container, low-explosive ANFO, and a clock cog fragment.
The UVF’s operational history across the early 1970s is littered with similar signatures, including several “own goals”, most infamously the Miami Showband atrocity where a bomb being planted by UVF men exploded prematurely.
Against this background, the Dublin attacks stand out as a completely different order of operation. Three car bombs detonated within a two-minute window — 17:28, 17:30, 17:32 — scattered across a busy European capital.
This degree of synchronisation required reliability and precision far beyond the capacity of the UVF’s customary equipment.
Forensic Interpretation
Crucially, forensic interpretation identified re-crystallised ANFO, a high-explosive mixture developed by the Provisional IRA after the 1972 fertiliser regulations removed high-nitrate prills from the market. Military experts across both jurisdictions — Lieutenant Colonel George Styles GC, Lieutenant Colonel Nigel Wylde, and Commandant Patrick Trears — unanimously testified that loyalists had neither the knowledge, the explosive inventory, nor the technical skill to produce such devices.
Beyond Chemistry
The problem extended beyond chemistry. The Dublin bombs required reliable detonators, booster charges, and safety-arming mechanisms — capabilities far outside the loyalist repertoire of the period. Wylde estimated that the British army was recovering around 1,000lbs of re-crystallised ANFO per week in Belfast during that summer.
No Stock Control - L/Colonel Nigel Wylde
Without stock controls, no ledger, and no real oversight, it would have been entirely possible for some of this material to have been diverted into unofficial hands — but such diversion would necessarily imply military, rather than loyalist, origin.
Operational Implausibility
Beyond the technical gulf lay the operational implausibility. No loyalist unit — certainly not the Portadown UVF — had ever demonstrated the ability to run a complex, multi-vehicle bombing mission 60 miles into hostile territory with near-simultaneous detonation.
Synchronised Attacks in Dublin
The synchronised nature of the attack reinforces this point. Experts testified that such devices might achieve a 10-minute window at best, not a two-minute interval across three separate sites. The Dublin bombs showed none of the UVF’s typical forensic fingerprints — no metal containers, no keg fragments, no low-yield signatures.
The cumulative weight of the evidence leads to a consistent conclusion that the UVF could not have executed these bombings unaided. Its willingness to commit such mass murder is not in doubt; its capacity is.
The operation required skills, tools, explosives, logistics, and co-ordination absent from their organisational profile in 1974.
On the Balance of Probability
On the balance of probability, the Dublin bombings were carried out by loyalists with technical assistance from elements of the British security or military apparatus. This conclusion does not absolve the UVF of responsibility; rather, it reframes the UVF as a participant in a more complex and asymmetrical covert operation.
Final Kenova Report But Not the Final Denton Report
The final Operation Kenova report, which was launched this week, devotes considerable time in analysing the connection between Freddie Scappaticci and his role as Stakeknife with the British administration. This exercise must be considered totally futile because the British government refuses to formally agree his connection as its agent within the IRA.
Denton Commentary without a Scintilla of Evidence
The commentary on the Dublin and Monaghan bombings (Operation Denton) occupies 20 pages of that report and is just that — a commentary without a scintilla of supporting evidence adduced in support of the alleged conclusions. The direct reference to the Bombings occupies just less than two pages.
The main report is to be published sometime next year. It is not hard to recognise that this commentary is a gaslighting exercise designed to shape the narrative in advance of the publication of the report.
Denton made a claim without foundation that the UVF was independently capable of carrying out the attacks and possessed the necessary materials, knowledge and expertise without any support from the security forces. This is an extremely worrying development.
Disinformation
Important to understand that the full Denton report has not been released, maybe next year. One is dealing with a very narrow commentary expressed without foundation and designed to obscure and normalise the so called "findings".
Disinformation Approach
The Denton text presents itself as a calm, authoritative clarification of truth. Yet beneath its measured tone lies a narrative architecture that functions less as explanation and more as perception management—a classic feature of institutional gaslighting. What emerges is not simply a report, but a carefully curated story designed to reshape public memory of collusion, responsibility and capacity in the 1970s.
The Narrative Begins: Acknowledging Just Enough
The opening movement of the text makes a deliberate choice: it admits collusion, but only in a way that is immediately bounded, minimised, and sanitised.
“There is clear evidence of collusion… by state actors.”
The phrase is deceptively forthright. It creates the impression of honesty while simultaneously preparing the reader for the pivot that follows. This is a staple of gaslighting rhetoric: admit a fragment so you can control the meaning of the whole.
By conceding the existence of collusion, the narrative inoculates itself against accusations of whitewash. Yet before this acknowledgement has even settled, the text shifts ground.
The Pivot: Collusion Exists, But Not Where It Matters
Almost immediately, the narrative asserts:
“the review found no evidence that the RUC was involved… at a corporate or organisational level.”
Here we see contradiction repackaged as coherence. The RUC is simultaneously present and absent, implicated and exonerated. The public is invited to accept that “state actors” colluded, but the state itself did not.
The contradiction is not resolved—it is normalised.
This is a gaslighting technique: create a conceptual fog in which the audience doubts their own instincts about inconsistency. If the report says these things fit together, the reader is subtly encouraged to believe they must.
Containment: Collusion, But Only in a Narrow Box
The narrative then performs an act of containment.
“Whilst there was clear collusion… the review has not discovered any material… indicating systematic collaboration.”
Yes, something happened.
No, it didn’t matter institutionally
This miniature drama plays out repeatedly across the text. It restricts collusion to rogue individuals, never structures; to backrooms, never boardrooms; to the margins, never the centre. The effect is to create a version of history in which wrongdoing is both acknowledged and rendered harmless.
In gaslighting terms, this is strategic minimisation—the art of shrinking reality until it fits a politically acceptable frame.
Reversal of Burden: Absence of Evidence Becomes Proof of Innocence
The narrative relies heavily on a familiar refrain:
“no evidence… indicates that British security forces colluded…”
But the text does not ask why the evidence is missing, where it went, or who controlled it. It does not confront the destruction of files, the gaps in intelligence archives, the refusal of access that has dogged legacy investigations for decades.
Instead, absence becomes exoneration. The investigation becomes its own alibi.
Gaslighting thrives on controlling what “counts” as proof. If the only acceptable evidence is the evidence that survived the institutions under scrutiny, then the conclusion becomes predetermined.
Delegitimising Critics Without Naming Them
At the heart of the narrative is a subtle recharacterisation of public concern:
“Strong views were expressed alleging collusion…”
The phrase “strong views” performs a rhetorical downgrade. It transforms decades of investigative journalism, Garda testimony, academic research, survivor experience and parliamentary reports into emotional reactions. Criticism is reframed not as reasoned analysis but as sentiment.
This is the emotional inversion characteristic of gaslighting: the institution becomes rational; the public becomes overwrought.
The Dublin–Monaghan Bombings: A Carefully Scripted Certainty
The text confidently states:
“The UVF independently possessed the necessary materials, knowledge and expertise…”
Gone is the long-standing debate regarding loyalist technical capacity. Gone are the anomalies—the timing precision, the multi-vehicle coordination, the absence of credible precedent. The narrative replaces these complexities with a flat assertion of capability.
This is not analysis; it is closure. A declaration designed to foreclose further questioning.
The Final Reassurance: Truth Has Now Been Delivered
The narrative ends with a gesture of completion:
“it is possible to find the truth… for many victims and their families.”
This closing note is not merely emotional; it is performative. It signals that the conversation is over, that the matter has been responsibly handled, that doubt is neither necessary nor appropriate.
Gaslighting often ends with reassurance—a soothing tone that, paradoxically, obscures the very truth it claims to offer. The comfort becomes a substitute for accountability.
The Narrative in Full: A System Designed to Be Believed
Taken together, the Denton text constructs a story in which:
Collusion happened, but not in a way that matters.
Institutions were not responsible, only individuals.
Loyalists had more capacity than the historical record suggests.
Critics are driven by strong feelings, not strong evidence.
Absence of proof means proof of innocence.
The truth has finally been found, so further questions are unnecessary.
This is the architecture of institutional gaslighting: a carefully assembled narrative designed not simply to inform, but to shape perception, reduce cognitive dissonance, and gently close the door on unresolved historical trauma.
From Leak to Lockdown: How the Dublin–Monaghan Narrative Was Managed
The gaslighting/disinformation of the Dublin and Monaghan bombings did not begin with the Denton report. It began earlier — in the way its conclusions were previewed, normalised, and laundered through media before being formally sealed by the review itself.
In recent weeks, the Belfast Telegraph carried extensive coverage of what it described as leaked briefings from Operation Denton. These articles and broadcasts were presented as revelatory: names were named, graphic detail was supplied, and the brutality of the 1974 bombings was vividly rehearsed.
To the casual reader or listener, this appeared to be a breakthrough — long-withheld truth finally emerging.
In reality, something more subtle was happening. The Bel Tel narrative performed a critical preparatory function. It acclimatised the public to Denton’s core conclusions before the report itself was released, while simultaneously framing those conclusions as reasonable, balanced, and even generous to victims. This is where the process of gaslighting began.
Throughout the Belfast Telegraph coverage, a repeated refrain was introduced and reinforced: there was “no direct collusion”. This phrase was not interrogated; it was asserted. Crucially, it was accompanied by a second, equally important claim — that the UVF was perfectly capable of carrying out the bombings on its own. This capability narrative became the emotional anchor of the coverage.
The effect was to quietly shift the ground of debate. The historic question — whether the British state knew, tolerated, enabled, or protected those responsible — was displaced by a narrower and more convenient one: could the UVF technically have done this by itself?
Once that question was answered in the affirmative, all others were rendered unnecessary, even unreasonable.
By the time the official Denton summary was circulated, the audience had already been conditioned.
The Denton release itself devotes barely twenty paragraphs in a 20-page summary to the deadliest attack in the State’s history. It begins with an important caveat: Operation Denton was “a review and therefore not commissioned to re-investigate” the Dublin and Monaghan bombings. That limitation is immediately followed, however, by firm and final conclusions. This tension — limited mandate, definitive judgment — runs through the entire text.
Central to Denton’s authority is its repeated invocation of evidence. The review states that it was “particularly rigorous” in seeking evidence of collusion and that “no evidence was found”. But what counts as evidence is never neutrally defined. Evidence, in Denton’s framework, is confined to material that remains accessible, disclosed, and acceptable within its own process. Destroyed files, withheld intelligence, non-disclosure decisions, conflicting intelligence, and institutional obstruction are acknowledged — yet stripped of probative value.
This evidential narrowing mirrors, and confirms, the earlier Bel Tel framing. The media narrative reassured audiences that if collusion existed, Denton would have found it. Denton then reassured institutions that, because it did not find it, collusion effectively did not exist.
The most striking example of this circular logic appears in Denton’s own findings. The review accepts that in the aftermath of the bombings the RUC and the British Army were in possession of intelligence identifying a number of those believed to have been involved. It accepts that no effective investigative response followed.
It accepts that intelligence sharing with An Garda Síochána was poor. It accepts that inter-agency conflict paralysed action.
Yet these admissions are not treated as evidence of collusion by omission, tolerance, or protection. Instead, they are reclassified as historical shortcomings — regrettable, but ultimately exculpatory. This is the essence of institutional gaslighting: acknowledging failure in detail while denying responsibility in principle.
The Belfast Telegraph coverage played a crucial role here. By repeatedly telling audiences that Denton found “no way the attack could have been stopped”, it pre-emptively reframed inaction as inevitability. By stressing that names were being named “for the first time”, it created the impression of transparency — even as all those named were safely deceased, and all living state actors remained unnamed and unexamined.
When the Denton summary finally states that there are “no realistic opportunities” for further investigation and that future prosecutions are “extremely unlikely”, this conclusion lands on prepared ground. What might otherwise appear as an extraordinary abdication of responsibility instead feels like grim realism.
The result is a closed narrative loop. Media framing establishes the terms. Official language confirms them. Public doubt is reinterpreted as misunderstanding. And institutional failure, once again, is converted into institutional innocence.
For the families of the 34 people killed — including children and an unborn baby — this is not truth recovery. It is narrative management.
The question is how, in a democratic society, the combined force of media and official process can be used to acknowledge atrocity while foreclosing accountability.
Fifty years on, the most enduring lesson of Dublin and Monaghan may not be about what happened in May 1974 — but about how power, language, and process are still used to ensure that certain questions are never allowed to be fully asked.
Why Dublin Cannot Leave the Dublin–Monaghan Bombings to Britain
The Dublin and Monaghan bombings of May 1974 remain the deadliest attack in the history of the State. Thirty-four people were murdered on Irish soil in coordinated car-bomb attacks, planned with military precision and carried out at peak civilian hours. No one has ever been prosecuted.
That failure is not merely historical. It is active, continuing, and increasingly indefensible.
What is now becoming clear is that the Irish Government has allowed effective control of the truth-recovery process to drift—quietly but decisively—into the hands of British authorities. That choice carries profound political, legal, and moral consequences.
This is not a matter of diplomatic courtesy or pragmatic cooperation. It goes to the heart of sovereignty, constitutional duty, and the State’s obligation to vindicate the right to life.
Crimes on Irish soil, outsourced accountability
The bombings occurred in Dublin and Monaghan. The victims were overwhelmingly Irish citizens. The duty to investigate, to establish truth, and to pursue accountability rests—first and foremost—with the Irish State.
That duty cannot be delegated.
Yet, for years, Dublin has deferred to British-controlled mechanisms: the HET, Kenova, and now the Denton narrative. These processes are framed, resourced, and constrained by British national-security interests. Files are withheld. Intelligence is redacted. Conclusions are expressed in the careful language of “no evidence found” rather than “full disclosure made”.
The distinction matters.
Under the European Convention on Human Rights, the obligation to conduct an effective investigation into unlawful killing is non-delegable. Ireland cannot satisfy Article 2 by pointing to another state’s inquiry—particularly where that state may itself be institutionally implicated.
If the process fails, responsibility does not pass to London. It remains in Dublin.
Narrative capture and political convenience
By relying on British reports, the Irish Government has also accepted British framing: British definitions of evidence, British thresholds for collusion, British judgments about what the public is entitled to know.
This is narrative capture.
It allows allegations of collusion to be neutralised not through transparency, but through absence—absence of files, absence of intelligence, absence of disclosure—while the families are told that no “evidence” exists.
This is not neutrality. It is a political choice.
And it places the Irish Government in the position of tacit endorser of conclusions it did not control, evidence it did not see, and redactions it did not authorise.
Victims
For the families of the dead, the message is unmistakable: Irish citizens were murdered, yet the Irish State will not lead the search for truth.
That perception is corrosive. It undermines confidence not only in this process, but in the State’s willingness to confront uncomfortable truths where powerful interests are involved.
Every carefully worded Government response—“noted”, “considered”, “welcomed”—deepens the sense of abandonment.
A dangerous precedent
The most serious consequence may lie ahead.
If Dublin accepts that British authorities can define the limits of accountability for mass murder on Irish soil, it establishes a precedent that will be invoked again and again—in other collusion-linked cases, in future legacy disputes, and whenever political sensitivity collides with the demands of justice.
Once that line is crossed, it is extraordinarily difficult to reclaim.
Sovereignty is not optional
This is not about hostility to Britain. It is about responsibility to our own citizens.
A sovereign state cannot outsource the investigation of its worst atrocity and then claim moral authority when the outcome disappoints. If the truth is buried, Dublin will not be able to say it was buried elsewhere.
The longer the Government delays an Irish-led, fully empowered inquiry—with international participation if necessary—the clearer it becomes that this is not a failure of capacity, but of political will.
The choice facing Government
The question is stark.
Either the Irish State asserts its authority, fulfils its constitutional and human-rights obligations, and places the Dublin–Monaghan bombings where they belong—at the centre of an Irish-led truth process. Or it accepts that the final word on the murder of its citizens will be written elsewhere.
I do not believe that any Irish Government faced with this choice would continue the present course at least I sincerely hope not.
Conclusion
The unfortunate reality is that these terrible events will not come to an end until the DISINFORMATION is exposed. A constructive step would be for the Denton Proponents to disclose their files and clearly articulate the basis for their findings.
Retired Detective Chief Superintendent John O'Brien: 'It is a matter of profound regret that nobody has been made accountable for these crimes.'
John O'Brien is a retired Detective Chief Superintendent and the author of four books, most recently The Great Deception, Dublin and Monaghan Car Bombings 1974. See jaobrien.ie
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