The March of Unreason

Every year in Northern Ireland, something called "The Marching Season" occurs. That's a rather interesting name, as though this particularly human phenomenon were something as unstoppable and inevitable as El Nino or the Mistral. Most of these marches are organised by people who call themselves variously Unionists, Loyalists, Orangemen and Protestants; the Marches are predominantly anti-Catholic, sectarian and (frankly) rankly provocative.

This is the year that the IRA finally gave up the "armed struggle", the murderous inter-faith Intifada that has ripped apart Northern Ireland and (often) the British mainland since before I was born. Here, if you like, is the Dark Heart of Christianity; if there really is a Satan, I reckon he lives somewhere between the Garvachy Road and the Church of Dumcree. So there was a lot of hope at the beginning of this "Marching Season", because the Loyalists had, effectively, got what they were supposed to be wanting. But it wasn't enough. These "Loyalists" (I use these quotation marks because I'm a subject in the Kingdom they purport to be loyal too, and I'd really rather they weren't) have traditionally insisted on marching through Catholic areas of Belfast. In the past, the Royal Ulster Contabulary, which is over 90% Protestant, have allowed this; it's hard to say whether they (the RUC) were secretly sympathetic to the Orangemen, or were simply intimidated by the force of numbers.

However, this year, with the IRA cease-fire and decommissioning of weapons in progress, the traditional marches were routed away from Catholic areas (or ghettos, as we'd all be calling them if black people or Jews lived there) and a different story unfolded. In the last 3 nights, we've seen the worst violence in Northern Ireland for years; this time it was the Loyalists v. the Police, apparently in an attempt to get into Catholic areas of Belfast.

A bit of background might be in order here, for those normal member of the human race who don't know what's going on or why. The Orange Order was formed in Loughall in 1795 (wait, it gets better) amongst other things to commemorate the Battle of the Boyne in 1609, in which the Protestant King William of Orange (Dutch and tedious) defeated his Catholic father-in-law King James II (English and mad). This was known as the Glorious Revolution to those who (I presume) won, and wrote the history books. 396 years later, we could all be forgiven for thinking "Get over it!", especially since they won, but apparently that's not going to happen. "King Billy" is still a presence on the Northern Irish stage. So the Orangemen are "loyal" not only to a king who's been dead for 3 and a half centuries or so, but whose dynasty vanished from the British throne shortly after.

The RUC have today declared the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) to be no longer "on ceasefire". They've been officially on ceasefire for 11 years now, but in Northern Ireland, with the Ulster Defence Force, the Real IRA, and the Devil only knows how many other splinter groups abounding, it's hard to backtrack any specific bullet to any specific gun. You find good politicians, by which I mean people of good faith like David Trimble, a Unionist who was prepared to deal politically with the Catholic Sinn Fein, forced out of office, and disingenuous fanatics like the self-proclaimed "Reverend" Ian Paisley playing on the inherited fears and mistrusts of ordinary people to further their own careers.

Anyone who's ever heard the "Rev." Paisley speak (actually I should say "rant", and it's an education, believe me) will immediately recognise someone not prepared to relent or compromise on any level; the gestures, the rhetoric and the deliberately-heightened tension are reminiscent of Hitler in the Nuremberg Rally days. It's my belief that as long as the "Rev." remains a "power" in Northern Irish politics, long-term peace and stability will be an impossibility. The wounds are far too fresh, only just scabbing over, for someone as abrasive as him to be at loose. Unfortunately, although the "Rev" is pretty ancient, he has a son (also called Ian - what is it about megalomaniacs which makes them call their offspring after them - ahem, Mr. Bush?) who seems prepared to take over where his father - well, he won't leave off, but at some point he will inevitably shuffle off this mortal coil.

We in the UK lost a great stateswoman this year. You probably haven't heard of Mo Mowlam, but she was the principal architect of the Good Friday Agreement, which was the first real signed and sealed step on the arduous road to peace in Northern Ireland. Like a lot of people, I genuinely mourned her; she fell out with Tony Blair and got herself demoted out of the Cabinet, but most ordinary Labour supporters and (certainly) the people of Northern Ireland recognised her acheivements in that deeply riven province. Being made Secretary for Northern Ireland, in itself, is a political "punishment" for a Cabinet minister; it's traditionally been a no-win job where every bombing and political murder washes up at your door. Mo Mowlam turned that around, and was instrumental in making the Stormont Parliament a workable idea - and even though it's been closed down for now, the idea has been planted, there's something for the new generation of politicians to aspire to, and I believe the seed will grow.

I'm glad Mo didn't live to see the Marching Season this year. It would have been very hard, I think, for her to have witnessed the violence and brutality committed not by "terrorists" who hate the UK and want to break away, but by so-called "Loyalist freedom-fighters", people who call themselves UK citizens and claim to want to live as part of the UK and abide by our laws. Which is odd in itself, because the police take a pretty dim view of Molotov cocktails whoever throws them.