More tranquil – and improving all the time

By Emmet McDonough-Brown / @emmetito

It seems fitting to begin with an apposite quote from the trade unionist, lifelong socialist and Irish playwright, Sam Thompson:

“There’s nothing civilised about a mob, be it Protestant or Catholic.”

First of all, Northern Ireland is not a state – there is no natural centre to look to, no institutions which command universal respect, no agreement on flags, language, culture or history.

Identity in Northern Ireland therefore exists in a contested space, a divided mix of religion, culture and nationality further complicated by community. There are not – as is so often suggested – two camps into which everybody falls. Indeed, given the Chinese, Indian and Jewish communities which have existed here for decades it was never true. Add to this the Spanish exchange students, the new workers from Poland, Lithuania and Latvia, the influx of Roma and Belfast begins to look and sound like many other cities. At least in the cosmopolitan South of the city.

In the West of the city the identity differences are perhaps sharpest. A wall separates communities which face the same quotidian struggles, both normal working class, but crucially one green and one orange. Most people in the West will identify with the UK or with the rest of Ireland. Occasionally the disconnect felt by both sides from their respective centres in London or Dublin leads to overcompensation. These enclaves are where some of the brutal outcomes of an armed and divided society were played out.

On the Shankill Road in protestant West Belfast, gruesome representations of the Queen Mother exist on the sides of buildings while red white and blue bunting hangs across lampposts and British soldiers are mourned as their own. Street parties still commemorate jubilees and coronations and the tone of the graffiti yearns for a solidarity with Britain that I’ve never seen reciprocated.

On the Falls Road in catholic West Belfast, Celtic script adorns shop frontages in quantities not seen outside of Dublin’s tourist traps and every sporting defeat of England is cheered as tricolours and county flags flap overhead. Schools increasingly teach through the medium of the Irish language, though English remains the primary language of commerce and social interaction.

So how can we characterise any national identity? Across Northern Ireland there is clearly no coherent identity, but that is hardly unique. The Good Friday Agreement – delivered under Labour – has created a forum for dialogue between the two groups while a new generation of young people increasingly reject the sectarianism of their forbears.

The aim of politicians and leaders must surely be to foster a tolerance of difference, an inclusive identity which unites rather than divides. There is reason for optimism. Civic society is stepping into the vacuum left by a political class which fights sectarian elections for narrow party advantage. Movements like the Platform for Change are attempting to build a new politics which cuts across the traditional divide. The Alliance Party continues to promote the concept of a shared future underpinned by equality for all. The Re-imaging Communities programme – led by the Arts Council for Northern Ireland -facilitates communities to move beyond the past and celebrate the positive elements of our region’s history.

In summary, it is a complex picture, but one which is more tranquil and improving all the time. Without doubt the most important change has been the demilitarisation of Northern Irish society, and while tensions still exist, the forums for their reconciliation are growing ever stronger.