Northern Ireland’s chief constable, Jon Boutcher, has revealed he is reviewing the security classification of a long-suppressed MI5 file from 1973, raising the prospect that one of the most contentious documents of the Troubles could soon be made public. The dossier, compiled by senior MI5 officer Jack Morton, reportedly advised police special branch on how to respond to the IRA at the height of the conflict — a time when British security forces were recruiting agents inside both republican and loyalist paramilitary groups. The review, disclosed in testimony to the Northern Ireland Affairs Committee in Westminster, has reignited questions about the extent to which the state may have been complicit in violence, including murder and torture, through its agents.
Boutcher’s announcement marks a dramatic shift in tone from the Police Service of Northern Ireland’s previous position. The PSNI had refused to release the Morton report even after being taken to court by UK Declassified, a decision made before Boutcher assumed leadership and earned a reputation among some as a transparency champion. Under questioning by MPs, he confirmed he had instigated a security review of the Morton dossier and other “legacy” files from the Troubles, with the intention of involving the security agencies, the Northern Ireland secretary Hilary Benn, and other partners in deciding whether the documents can be declassified.
The chief constable said his goal is clear: to perform the necessary security checks and then push for the documents to enter the public domain. He noted that he had recommended a classification review in 2024, and that his colleague Sir Iain Livingstone had been pursuing a mechanism through the Cabinet Office to deliver on those recommendations. Among the reports on the list are believed to be the so-called Stalker and Sampson inquiries into allegations that police operated a shoot-to-kill policy during the Troubles.
Human rights advocates welcomed the move but warned that the UK government’s inertia remains troubling. Daniel Holder, director of the Committee on the Administration of Justice, said the PSNI review was a positive step but highlighted that the Cabinet Office had done nothing to implement the 2024 recommendation. Holder questioned whether a “culture of overreach on secrecy” had kept the Morton report hidden, or whether there were specific contents that someone was desperate to keep from public view. The concern is sharpened by the legacy of state-agent involvement in terrorism throughout the conflict, including allegations of murder and torture.
The potential significance of the Morton report is intensified by the historical context of its author. Jack Morton was not a neutral analyst. He had served as a colonial police chief in India and director of intelligence in Malaya during a communist insurgency, and his worldview was shaped by a staunch belief in the British Empire. His documented attitudes included describing Indians in demeaning, colonial terms, revealing a mindset that many critics argue underpinned the coercive tactics used in counter-insurgency operations. Brought out of retirement in 1973 to review Northern Ireland, Morton’s experience in undercover operations and armed policing made him a pivotal figure in shaping British strategy during the Troubles.
The report’s release could also re-ignite painful questions about the 1974 Dublin and Monaghan bombings, in which 33 people were killed. A later inquiry led by former Irish Supreme Court judge Henry Barron found that some suspects were “reliably said” to have had relationships with British intelligence and RUC special branch officers. Victims’ families have long feared the Morton dossier could contain evidence linking state agents to the bombings or other atrocities, and the possibility of disclosure has stirred anxiety as well as hope for accountability.
Boutcher’s decision to pursue declassification also brings into sharp relief Morton’s later role advising security forces abroad. In 1979, Morton urged Sri Lankan forces to seek training from SAS troops to confront the Tamil independence movement — a conflict that was largely peaceful at the time but later descended into a brutal civil war. Sri Lanka subsequently employed former SAS mercenaries in its suppression of Tamil insurgents, and the involvement of British counter-insurgency expertise has been cited as part of the country’s wider pattern of violent repression.
The contrast between the secrecy surrounding Morton’s Northern Ireland dossier and the release of other, older reports he compiled in different countries is striking. For example, the British government has published documents relating to a 1963 strike at an asbestos mine in Swaziland (now Eswatini), where miners demanding higher wages were interrogated by Special Branch and army intelligence using torture techniques known as the “five techniques.” That disclosure has raised further questions about why the Morton report on Northern Ireland remains so tightly guarded.
Morton died in 1985, but his influence appears to endure in the shadowy mechanics of state security. As Boutcher’s review proceeds, the stakes are high: a public version of the report could transform understanding of the British state’s conduct during the Troubles, while also reopening wounds that have never fully healed. The question now is whether the UK government will allow transparency to outweigh the instinct for secrecy — and whether, after more than half a century, the public will finally be allowed to see what the state knew, and what it may have done, in the name of security.
