(Brief history of violence in Northern Ireland)
Parts of Belfast are historically Catholic or Protestant, and a 45-foot tall fence makes it very clear where the separation is. Additionally, murals have been painted on the walls and flags wave to remind who's side is whose, and to reinforce the past.
I spent four hours walking along these roads, getting a feeling for the sectarian violence that existed and still exists to some degree today. Three of those hours was on a political history walking tour by a Nationalist man who organized with the IRA (purportedly before it was super violent) and was great friends with many Nationalist heroes/martyrs.
He insisted that his participation with the Nationalists wasn't a religious war, but in retaliation to the systematic anti-Catholic discrimination (I've heard from several sources how it was impossible for a large Catholic family in need to get government assistance, but a smaller, less-needy Protestant family would be readily helped.) According to him, the British government waged an unfair war against the people, and if he is to be believed (and a 2010 British report supports this), then many innocent women, men, and children were murdered.... And nobody has been punished for these illegal acts.
So today was a heavy day, where although I was grateful that outright street violence has abated, I was still received visual reminders of the dark past. Some of the murals are probably unnecessary, and though they are historically significant, they probably keep the treachery of the past at the forefront of people's minds, reminding them to fight for past offenses.
I realize that it's unfair for me--a third party--to step into such a deep and complex situation and assume judgment. But I acutely feel human suffering, and I can try to empathize.
***
Yesterday at Kilmainham Gaol, I stuck around and talked to the tour guide afterward. The guy (Kevin?) was probably 22 or so, and I got talking to him about the future of the island, what reasons there were (beyond an emotional sense) for it to be a unified country, and whether that'd ever happen. He thought for a bit, and responded, "No, I suppose there isn't much reason for us to be unified, except for the emotional reason. And I doubt that we'll be unified. Northern Ireland has been separate for so long and developed its own identity that it wouldn't make sense for them to unite."
"Then how will the tension be resolved?"
"By generations of people passing, slowly getting used to the fact."
I thought about how Ireland is the product of several invasions, first the Celts, then the Vikings (Danish, Swedish, and Nordic in their turn), and then the Normans. In all of those cases, I'm sure that previous inhabitants weren't thrilled about these invaders, but years of intermarrying and cultural mingling erased tension. (I also thought about the parallel we have in the US of anti-immigration, and how perspective can be changed to consider European explorers themselves as immigrants in an American Indian land, but that's a separate topic...)
***
While many of the overtly aggressive murals have been erased or altered to be more positive, some still exist that--while not directly inciting rebellion--do quietly plant seeds of discontent. "Remember how awful the [other side] was? Remember how unjustly we were treated? How shall we get even?"
And I can somewhat understand their motivation. One of the posters I saw hung listed each of 100s of innocent Catholics who were killed--probably without just cause--by British soldiers. I can understand the production of the posters as a means of catharsis. How else do you resolve the anguish that you feel about schoolchildren being gunned down? Some action is necessary to bring to closure the grief, but are the means bringing about other ends, too?
Fortunately, many of the new murals I see have messages of inclusion and anti-racial discrimination. While not directly addressing the issues of the past, they do seek to unify the people on one topic. Maybe it's a starting point. What definitely is a starting point is the source of such murals: children. As an illustration of prison guide Kevin's point, by starting with education of the children, slowly the generations will have more open dialogue, hopefully leading to open discussion and healing.
Despite the change in tone I see in the murals, taking in the ghosts of the past in the present was taxing. It's difficult to generate hope when barraged with messages of anger and unresolved crimes. Then I passed City Hall and noticed people setting up votives in some sort of demonstration across the lawn. I stepped back to read the message:
What unites human beings:
ears, eyes, loves, hopes and toes
is huge and wonderful.
What divides human beings
is small and mean.
Rather than conveying anger and encouraging retaliation over the divisive past, the statement seeks healing through commonality. The was, at least for me, starkly juxtaposed against the polarized messages just blocks away. It gave me hope, really lifting my spirits, that people were seeking resolution by inclusive, productive means.
Parts of Belfast are historically Catholic or Protestant, and a 45-foot tall fence makes it very clear where the separation is. Additionally, murals have been painted on the walls and flags wave to remind who's side is whose, and to reinforce the past.
He insisted that his participation with the Nationalists wasn't a religious war, but in retaliation to the systematic anti-Catholic discrimination (I've heard from several sources how it was impossible for a large Catholic family in need to get government assistance, but a smaller, less-needy Protestant family would be readily helped.) According to him, the British government waged an unfair war against the people, and if he is to be believed (and a 2010 British report supports this), then many innocent women, men, and children were murdered.... And nobody has been punished for these illegal acts.
So today was a heavy day, where although I was grateful that outright street violence has abated, I was still received visual reminders of the dark past. Some of the murals are probably unnecessary, and though they are historically significant, they probably keep the treachery of the past at the forefront of people's minds, reminding them to fight for past offenses.
I realize that it's unfair for me--a third party--to step into such a deep and complex situation and assume judgment. But I acutely feel human suffering, and I can try to empathize.
 |
| old mural on Sandy Row |
 |
| new mural--less offensive and pointed |
Yesterday at Kilmainham Gaol, I stuck around and talked to the tour guide afterward. The guy (Kevin?) was probably 22 or so, and I got talking to him about the future of the island, what reasons there were (beyond an emotional sense) for it to be a unified country, and whether that'd ever happen. He thought for a bit, and responded, "No, I suppose there isn't much reason for us to be unified, except for the emotional reason. And I doubt that we'll be unified. Northern Ireland has been separate for so long and developed its own identity that it wouldn't make sense for them to unite."
"Then how will the tension be resolved?"
"By generations of people passing, slowly getting used to the fact."
I thought about how Ireland is the product of several invasions, first the Celts, then the Vikings (Danish, Swedish, and Nordic in their turn), and then the Normans. In all of those cases, I'm sure that previous inhabitants weren't thrilled about these invaders, but years of intermarrying and cultural mingling erased tension. (I also thought about the parallel we have in the US of anti-immigration, and how perspective can be changed to consider European explorers themselves as immigrants in an American Indian land, but that's a separate topic...)
***
While many of the overtly aggressive murals have been erased or altered to be more positive, some still exist that--while not directly inciting rebellion--do quietly plant seeds of discontent. "Remember how awful the [other side] was? Remember how unjustly we were treated? How shall we get even?"
And I can somewhat understand their motivation. One of the posters I saw hung listed each of 100s of innocent Catholics who were killed--probably without just cause--by British soldiers. I can understand the production of the posters as a means of catharsis. How else do you resolve the anguish that you feel about schoolchildren being gunned down? Some action is necessary to bring to closure the grief, but are the means bringing about other ends, too?
Fortunately, many of the new murals I see have messages of inclusion and anti-racial discrimination. While not directly addressing the issues of the past, they do seek to unify the people on one topic. Maybe it's a starting point. What definitely is a starting point is the source of such murals: children. As an illustration of prison guide Kevin's point, by starting with education of the children, slowly the generations will have more open dialogue, hopefully leading to open discussion and healing.
Despite the change in tone I see in the murals, taking in the ghosts of the past in the present was taxing. It's difficult to generate hope when barraged with messages of anger and unresolved crimes. Then I passed City Hall and noticed people setting up votives in some sort of demonstration across the lawn. I stepped back to read the message:
What unites human beings:
ears, eyes, loves, hopes and toes
is huge and wonderful.
What divides human beings
is small and mean.
Rather than conveying anger and encouraging retaliation over the divisive past, the statement seeks healing through commonality. The was, at least for me, starkly juxtaposed against the polarized messages just blocks away. It gave me hope, really lifting my spirits, that people were seeking resolution by inclusive, productive means.
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