According to the 2020 Census, there are over 31.5 million Americans that claim Irish ancestry. Over 6.8 million of them live in the state of Massachusetts. That is just over the population of the actual Republic of Ireland (5 million), and over three times the population of Northern Ireland. Considering “Anglo-Protestants and Ulster Presbyterians, defining themselves as Scots-Irish,” were able to blend with the Protestant hegemony of the US in a way Catholics could not, partially through their own contribution to the othering of Catholic immigrants, the difference in those communities and their experience in America is large (McCaffrey 2004). Thus, I focus my analysis of Irish Americans on Catholic communities, and their relations to Catholic republicans in Northern Ireland.
Thus, it would seem at the very least improbable that these diasporic communities wouldn’t be involved in the Troubles in some way, considering the population of people identifying with Irish identity outside of the conflict. Indeed, Catholic Irish Americans had a very deep and complex relationship with the Troubles. Alongside their general connection through shared struggle with discrimination and oppression, some Irish Americans felt very tied to the conflict and did whatever they could to support the cause. In addition to political action in the US government, aided by a mid-20th century improvement in socio-political status that was conducive to larger-scale influence, Irish Americans rallied support, raised funding, and even directly supplied weapons for the IRA. In all of these diverse ways, Irish Americans assisted other Catholics suffering from the Troubles.
Also across all of these methods of support, you find ties back to Boston, Massachusetts. Boston’s South End, or “Southie,” is notably one of the most Irish neighborhoods in the United States. This large population of Irish Americans left their mark on the Troubles in many ways, from the dollars gathered in pubs, to firepower from the Irish mob, and even just providing an accepting community for visiting IRA members. Outside of Southie, the Massachusetts originating Kennedy family’s rise to political dominance in the mid-20th century marked a shift in US Catholic tolerance that brought new opportunities to all Irish Americans.
Oh to hear the cheers from Southie when JFK won, may he rest in peace.
In this exhibit, I’ve analyzed the growth and evolution of the Irish American identity, looking at the sources of Irish emigration and how they influenced the communities it spawned. I’ve shown how these communities remain spiritually connected to those still in Ireland, and how this connection inspired support for the Catholic cause in Northern Ireland, extending to support for the paramilitary action of the PIRA. I’ve displayed the various avenues of interaction Irish Americans have had with the Troubles, and how they ultimately culminated in peaceful, political action. Finally, I look forward to the future of Irish American relations with the island, and how they extend beyond the Troubles as much as the Troubles have proven to display this relationship.
In a deeply sectarian community like Northern Ireland, history and memory are powerful weapons. Both the nationalists and the unionists reached deep into the past to obtain historical precedent and to justify their tactics during the Troubles. The opposing communities each used “regional and historical happenings” to invent the “logic of their respective nations” (Mac Laughlin 2001). The nationalist community used historical events as far back as the original conquest of Ireland in the 12th century as the basis of an ideological canon that justified their cause throughout the Troubles and in turn perpetuated the conflict. Martyrization and memorialization are central to these narratives, which attempt to discredit the foundation myths of their opponents (Loughlin 2007). In particular, the nationalist-endorsed “Fenian cult of political martyrdom” has a strong tradition of building these mythologies through music, utilizing emotional appeals to reinforce their position (Beiner 2018). Nationalist music has been wildly successful in perpetuating pro-nationalist narratives, enduring far beyond the official end of the Troubles. Though the Troubles are over, the divide in Northern Ireland persists, and the continued popularity of nationalist music reflects the stamina of the sectarian struggle in the region.
There is a fine line between memorializing suffering through artistic expression and using art to glorify or romanticize aspects of conflict. Instead of solely honoring tragedy, sometimes music becomes a tool to further entrench one’s own faction and perpetuate a message of righteousness at the cost of dialogue or resolution. The nationalists walk this line, and according to their opponents, frequently cross over to participate in the “glorification of terrorism” (Hargan 2022). Nationalist music employs historical motifs to immortalize the conflict, frequently referencing tragedies such as the Easter Rising and Bloody Sunday in order to drag every grievance of the past 900 years into the present and make it immediate and therefore threatening. By concentrating on incidents of Catholic oppression, this music casts nationalist groups like the IRA as victims, martyrs, and righteous actors rather than perpetrators and reactionaries in their own right. This process transforms the contention between the residents of Northern Ireland from a mere sectarian struggle into a holy war.
The reasoning behind this behavior is not unfounded. British and Protestant oppression of the native Irish and the Catholic minority was real, brutal, and lasted hundreds of years. However, the rhetorical nature of the nationalist case doesn’t leave any room for discourse between the actors in Northern Ireland. A holy war can’t end in a truce. Therefore, it leads to perennial violence with no end in sight. However, there are also songs from Irish and Northern Irish musicians that refute this nationalist rhetoric, denouncing the conflict as a whole rather than denouncing just the unionists and British position. These songs are not pro-nationalist, but anti-conflict, and they offer a far more honest and productive perspective on the situation. They recognize the impossibility of either community winning the Troubles through continued violence, and advocate for an end to the armed conflict through pragmatism.
Artifact 1 – Aftermath of the Easter Rising
War In Ireland – Easter Rebellion. 1916. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zOlrtS2nsCE
This video was recorded after the Easter Rising in 1916, and shows the rampant destruction in Dublin in the wake of the uprising. Burned and bombed buildings are visible, as well as remnants of barricades that had been erected to block off streets. The Easter Rising was initially unpopular with the people of Ireland, but when the British retaliated by crushing the rebels brutally and mercilessly, then executing their leaders, support grew exponentially for Sinn Féin and the Republican movement, as the public viewed the harsh punishment as an overreaction (Parfitt 2017). As a result, executed republican leaders like Patrick Pearse and James Connolly quickly became martyrs.
The Easter Rising grew into a key moment for the nationalist movement, often referenced as an example of British cruelty and suppression. Any mention of the year 1916 in nationalist messaging is shorthand for the uprising and its effect on the nationalist community. Nationalist music draws heavily on the events of 1916; songs such as The Foggy Dew and Grace were written as direct reactions and memorials, and were performed throughout the twentieth century as a way to connect the events of the Troubles to the larger nationalist struggle for freedom and reunification. Musical representations of the Easter Rising “provided nationalists with subjects and grievances on which to pontificate and exercise political energies” (Parfitt 2017).
Artifact 2 –The Foggy Dew
The Foggy Dew. 1995. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keWnPZOd2cw (June 1, 2023).
“The Foggy Dew,” written by Father Charles O’Neill in 1919 after attending the first sitting of the Dáil (BBC 2014), recounts the 1916 Easter Rising, invoking nationalist pride in its audience. It refers to nationalist history throughout, including events like the Irish nationalist refusal to fight in World War I, saying “‘Twas better to die ‘neath an Irish sky than at Suvla or Sud-El-Bar. Suvla and Sud-El-Bar are both on the Gallipoli peninsula, where Britain’s forces suffered crushing losses. Irish nationalists at the time maintained that the fight was at home, against British occupation, rather than overseas in support of their oppressors. This reference to glorious Irish resistance helps to drive home the nationalist themes of the song.
The lyrics lament Irishmen who fought and died overseas, calling their graves “lonely” and expressing the wish to connect fallen Irishmen with their republican ancestors. The line “had they died by Pearse’s side or fought with Cathal Brugha / Their names we’d keep where the Fenians sleep” links the leading figures of the Easter Rising and the historical tradition of Irish republicanism by naming the Fenians, who were Irish nationalists active since the mid 19th century and named after the mythological hero Finn MacCool (Britannica 2022). The reference to the Fenians demonstrates the historical precedent for Irish nationalism and thus legitimizes the nationalists who participated in the Easter Rising. In turn, the righteous deification of the leaders of the Easter Rising legitimized the cause of the nationalists in the Troubles, allowing them to rely on a greater continuity of rebellion.
Vibrant, sentimental Irish imagery shines through this song, with frequent reference to the “Irish sky,” “foggy dew,” and “Liffey’s swell” that create a “heightened sense of place” (Mac Laughlin 2001) in order to strengthen the mental image of an Irish nationalist nation. This strategy effectively strengthens the collective consciousness of nationalist Northern Ireland, supported by an enormous continuity of nationalist martyrdom.
This song named for Grace Gifford tells the tragic story of her wedding to Joseph Plunkett in Kilmainham Gaol, hours before Plunkett was sentenced to execution for his participation in the Easter Rising of 1916.
“Grace” as a political tool effectively serves to create a pair of martyrs for the nationalist cause as a tragic, somewhat melodramatic lament for their doomed romance. For the nationalists, the story of Grace and Joseph Plunkett could be considered akin to that of Romeo and Juliet, a tragedy for the ages.
The song masterfully connects the sorrowful parting conversation between the two main characters to the rebel cause, as the narrator, Joseph, says that he knows “it’s hard for you, my love, to ever understand/The love I bear for these brave men, my love for this dear land,” aggrandizing the narrative from one of personal pain to one of noble sacrifice for a cause greater than the individual.
“Grace” is a perfect example of the process of deification that Irish songwriters often apply to historical figures with the goal of providing support to one side or the other in the Catholic/Protestant conflict. Though the events of the song occurred seventy years before it was written, it still produces outrage in its audience, illustrating the staying power of this kind of strategy.
Artifact 4 – The Men Behind the Wire
The Men Behind the Wire. 2007. YouTube. https://youtu.be/0anTH5qHbjc (June 1, 2023).
“The Men Behind the Wire,” written in 1971, describes the practice of internment in Northern Ireland, which has its foundations in 1916 with the Easter Rising. The uprising “heralded executions for the leaders and imprisonment for many more rebels and sympathizers. In excess of 1,800 men and women were interned without charge or trial,” (Lowry 268) beginning the long tradition of imprisonment without trial for nationalists in Northern Ireland. As a result of the harsh retribution that the British government dealt to the rebels in 1916, “Irishmen began to perceive internment as a continuing legacy of the rebellion. The internees became hero figures and acted as catalysts for revolutionary activity in Ireland” (Lowry 268). Those sentenced to internment became heroes to their communities and operated within British prisons with a high degree of solidarity, often rendering the punishment less effective than hoped. Rather than stopping rebel sentiment in its tracks, “martyrs had been made, then the survivors were turned loose to an admiring audience” (Lowry 269).
The practice of internment was reintroduced in 1971 with Operation Demetrius, interning hundreds of men suspected of aiding the rebel cause, and prompting the writing of this song. The author, in the tradition of Irish political music, harkens back to the seventeenth century, warning that “CromweIl’s men are here again,” despite the three hundred years separating the two events. He calls his audience to continue the Irish tradition of rebel solidarity, reminding them that “every man will stand behind/The Men Behind the Wire.”
Artifact 5 – Photos from Bloody Sunday
Title: Arrest operation – Kells Walk (5) British troops (Parachute Regiment) conduct mass arrest of civilians during a lull in the shooting. Title: Civilian ambulance (2) A civilian ambulance that tried to pick up the wounded. A group of by-standers are finding cover at the front of the ambulance. At the rear, one man is holding a white handkerchief in an attempt to signal to the soldiers nearby.Title: Blood on the street Caption: One of the pools of blood left after the body had been removed by British soldiers. “Photographs by William L. Rukeyser.” Conflict and Politics in Northern Ireland. https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/rukeyser/rukeyser-derry/ (June 1, 2023).
These color photos were taken in the Bogside neighborhood of Derry, Northern Ireland, by William L. Rukeyser, an American reporter for the United Press International during the events of Bloody Sunday in 1972. This was the bloodiest year of the Troubles, with the casualty count reaching 479. The violence of the day began with a civil rights march in Derry, and ended with British soldiers shooting indiscriminately into a crowd of civilians, killing 13. As one of the most important events of the Troubles, Bloody Sunday took its “place in Irish history as a formative moment which…hardened attitudes, increased paramilitary recruitment, helped generate more violence, and convulsed Anglo-Irish relations” (McKittrick and McVea 2002, 77). These photos show a merciless perspective of the brutality of Bloody Sunday, and were revolutionary due to their global distribution. Bloody Sunday had unprecedented media coverage, which sparked a kind of worldwide outrage and support for the nationalist cause that was theretofore unheard of.
The atrocity of Bloody Sunday stands unfaltering in the collective consciousness of Northern Ireland as a prime reason for the prioritization of victory over the British and by extension the Unionists at all costs. It’s the perfect event to point at and claim that vengeance is an appropriate, necessary form of justice. However, while the horror of Bloody Sunday is undeniable, that kind of reasoning only serves to fuel the conflict, encouraging an inescapable cycle of violence and revenge.
Artifact 6 – Interview with Reverend Edward Daly
“Audio Clips of Bloody Sunday and the Immediate Aftermath.” Conflict and Politics in Northern Ireland. https://cain.ulster.ac.uk/rukeyser/rukeyser-derry/ (June 1, 2023).
This recorded interview with the Reverend Edward Daly, days after the events of Bloody Sunday in 1972, provides a valuable firsthand account of the violence. Thanks to the extensive media fallout after Bloody Sunday Daly became one of the most recognizable figures from the Troubles, as a photo of him waving a white handkerchief to escort a victim out of the line of fire appeared in newspapers and on screens all over the world. In this interview, Daly calls the events “cold-blooded murder, nothing else” verifying that when the paratroopers began shooting, the citizens were all unarmed and attempting to leave the area. The public was outraged by the brutality of the British troops on Bloody Sunday, which radicalized civilians and created a surge in membership in the Provisional IRA (McKittrick and McVea 2002).
The indiscriminate murder of unarmed citizens was unforgettable, and provided valuable fuel for the republican cause. The actions of the British troops were widely considered “completely disgraceful,” a sentiment expressed by Daly. Bloody Sunday became a widely-referenced event in nationalist music and art, held up as a contemporary injustice on par with the Easter Rising. Songs such as “Sunday Bloody Sunday” by U2, “Go On Home British Soldiers”, and “Give Ireland Back To The Irish” were written with references or in response to Bloody Sunday. This constant rehashing of the event ensured that Bloody Sunday would never fade from memory
Artifact 7 – NORTHERN IRELAND: 1972 WORST YEAR YET (AP)
This clip from the Associated Press on January 5, 1973 provides a contemporary perspective on Bloody Sunday from the world at large, and an example of the kind of press coverage that ensured that it would be permanently etched into the recollections of the global community. It was clear even at the time that the events of that day “when death itself became a cliche” would be remembered by the Catholic community as a core tenet of the list of grievances that nationalists could lay at Britain’s feet. For them, “the troops were murderers and the dead were martyrs, and the events of that confused afternoon became indelibly engraved on catholic consciences in the phrase Bloody Sunday.” Though this anger and sorrow was certainly justified, it would also in turn be used by violent paramilitaries to justify further retaliation, extending the bloodshed for decades.
Bloody Sunday shifted public opinion away from the British troops, “bolstered support for the IRA, which many Catholics saw as their only means of defense against both the Protestants and the British Army,” and marked the beginning of the bloodiest year of the Troubles, with 479 total casualties. Previously, the Catholic citizens had had a relatively positive opinion of the soldiers, who had purportedly been sent to protect civilians from sectarian violence.
Artifact 8 – Go on Home British Soldiers
Go on Home British Soldiers. 2022. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbTSvNcAAJc (June 1, 2023).
The lyrics of this song, written by The Wolfe Tones, extend the narrative of British oppression centuries into the past, to the very beginnings of an English presence on the island of Éire (Ward 1980). Beginning in the 13th century, the Wolfe Tones illustrate a timeline of Irish suffering at the hands of the British, drawing on specific, traumatic events like Operation Motorman where British soldiers shot four people while trying to take control of Catholic neighborhoods in Derry, the killing of children with plastic bullets, and Bloody Sunday to create a chronicle of oppression and resistance. This song vindicates Irish nationalists who “perceive Anglo-Irish relations as a tale of over seven-hundred years of conquest, savage exploitation and repression” (Ward 1980, 30). The Irish suffering and resistance recalled in this song is intended to maintain nationalist and more specifically, anti-British–sentiment by making it effectively impossible to forgive or forget the Troubles.
According to Jim Smyth, “remembering the Troubles was always part of the Troubles” (2017, 5). Collective memory is a powerful tool in Irish nationalism, often invoked by the IRA to ensure that the conflict remains in the forefront of people’s minds. The Wolfe Tones play to the sense of Irish pride, bravery, and perseverance, asserting that “we’ve fought you without fear” and that the British will “never ever beat the I.R.A,” neglecting to mention the ways in which the IRA uses self-defeating methods, alienating the communities that they claim to protect by killing innocents.
This way of thinking perpetuates divisions in Northern Irish society, particularly when songs such as “Go On Home British Soldiers” continue to be performed. The recording of this song is from a concert in Belfast in 2022. Even though the performance of pro-IRA music does not explicitly endorse communal divisions, it makes no effort to renounce them or acknowledge the harm caused by the IRA.
Artifact 9 – Give Ireland Back To The Irish
Give Ireland Back to the Irish. 1972. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQAPZ4KBYyo (June 1, 2023).
“I see the trouble now being that certain people think that the British shouldn’t be there, and if they are there they certainly shouldn’t be shooting the Irish people. I think they shouldn’t be, you know? It’s a bit much.”
”The morning after what they call in the newspapers Bloody Sunday, I read the newspapers and it just looked a bit wrong, what the British Army was doing in there… A bit wrong for me.”
Paul McCartney, Interview with ABC News, 1972
“Give Ireland Back To The Irish” was written and recorded by Paul McCartney and his band, Wings, directly after Bloody Sunday (McCartney and McCartney). The BBC swiftly banned the song due to its inflammatory nature, but it nonetheless reached number 1 on the charts in Ireland and Spain (McCartney and McCartney). Similarly to “Go On Home British Soldiers,” this song denounces the British presence in Ireland. Written by the British McCartney, it takes a somewhat more forgiving stance to Great Britain, as demonstrated by the lyrics “Great Britain you are tremendous / And nobody knows like me.” The deep-seated righteous anger clear in “Go On Home British Soldiers” is, understandably, less present in the lyrics of “Give Ireland Back To The Irish,” which were described by critics at the time as clumsy and simplistic, yet well-intentioned (McCartney and McCartney). Critic Chris Ingham stated that this song “managed to irritate everyone, not least for its naive, simplistic attitude to a complex situation” (Ingham 2003).
This song, written hastily by an outsider, lacks the same enduring spirit present in the nationalist songs written by Irish citizens. Notable features of other nationalist songs are their extension into Ireland’s past and reference of specific atrocities in order to stir up traumatic memories. Lacking these features, which are critical to a successful mythologization, “Give Ireland Back To The Irish” exemplifies a sloppy approximation of nationalist music, without the poignancy or staying power of its peers.
Artifact 10 – Pro-IRA Chanting At Feile An Phobail
The Wolfe Tones. “The Wolfe Tones Official Site Home.” Retrieved May 23, 2023 (https://www.wolfetonesofficialsite.com/).
During a Wolfe Tones performance at a festival called Feile An Phobail in Belfast in 2022, the crowd took part in chants such as “Up the Ra” and “Brits out.” The willingness of the crowd to verbally support the IRA and by extension the republican movement points to the success of nationalist mythmaking, over 20 years after the official end of the conflict. Even if members of the crowd might not approve of sectarianism in practice, they signaled support through their participation in the chant. A member of the DUP condemned the chanting, calling it a “hate fest” and saying that “glorifying that… is never an acceptable form of cultural expression” (Hargan 2022). She went on to say that “this is not the Northern Ireland we need to be building” (Hargan 2022).
The Wolfe Tones, named after a leader of the Irish Rebellion of 1798, describe themselves as “living Irish legend of ballads, folk and traditional music” (The Wolfe Tones). Their image relies on the rich past of Irish music and Irish nationalism; they bring historical events and attitudes into the present, ensuring that history and the mythology stemming from it cannot be forgotten. The Wolfe Tones continue the tradition of using song to “capture the hearts and minds of the Irish people,” just as the United Irishmen did in the 1700s (McCann 1995, 56). Rhetoric alone is not enough to build a movement; there must be an appeal to culture and tradition through varied means. Music in particular has the power to reinforce beliefs (Stuckenschmidt 1976, 133), and has proved essential to the nationalist movement in Northern Ireland.
Released by U2 in 1983, “Sunday Bloody Sunday” is a rejection of the entrenched sectarianism in Northern Ireland, challenging the basis of the conflict itself. During their concert in Belfast that same year, Bono spoke to the audience, asserting that “It’s not a rebel song. It’s a song of hope and a song of disgust.” Larry Mullen, the band drummer, shared his perspective on the paramilitaries that fought the Troubles: “During the hunger strikes, the IRA would say, “God is with me. I went to Mass every Sunday. “And the Unionists said virtually the same thing. And then they’d go out and murder each other.” Despite being from the Republic of Ireland themselves, the members of U2 grew up within the context of division between Catholics and Protestants in Ireland, and personally experienced the horror that the world felt on Bloody Sunday.
With “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” U2 emphasizes the futility of the fighting, asking their audience “how long, how long must we sing this song” with no end in sight? They outline the failings of nationalist and unionist rhetoric, pointing out that within the paradigm of grievance politics the rallying cry has been “the battle’s just begun” for hundreds of years, but although “there’s many lost,” they want to know, “who has won?” Though they use some of the same methods as traditional nationalist music by using striking imagery of an important event in the Troubles to make their point, the song breaks from the nationalist perspective by taking an unequivocally nonsectarian, pacifist stance on the rhetoric of the Troubles.
Artifact 12 – Zombie
Mueller, Andrew. 1994. “Eire and Graces.” VOX. 50: 69.
The lyrics of Zombie by the Cranberries provide what Vox called at the time a “seething condemnation of the IRA” and the continuing conflict between nationalism and unionism in Northern Ireland, with “Dolores bringing forth a fearsomely angry vocal from a previously untapped reservoir of bile.”
The Cranberries rejected the glorification of violence in the name of nationalism, highlighting the realities of armed conflict and angrily rejecting the methodology of the IRA. In a 1994 Vox interview, Dolores O’Riordan said “The IRA are not me. I’m not the IRA. The Cranberries are not the IRA. My family are not. When it says in the song, ‘It’s not me, it’s not my family,’ that’s what I’m saying. It’s not Ireland, it’s some idiots living in the past, living for a dream… there was no reason why that child should have been taken, why that woman would have gone through that.” With “Zombie,” the Cranberries try to force their audience to confront the outcomes of violence.
The lyrics address the misuse of martyrs and eye for an eye thinking, reminding the audience that “it’s the same old theme since 1916,” the two sides continue to engage in the same struggle without real progress.
Traditional nationalist rhetoric relies on the narrative that Catholics have been victims for the past 700 years, and that revenge must be attained in order to make it right, through violence if necessary. The Cranberries confront the senselessness of that argument, asking “what’s in your head,” and holding responsible the perpetrators of violence who refuse to let their martyrs die, instead choosing to resurrect them like zombies and use the same old undead rebel saints to justify vengeance over and over again.
References
BBC. 2014. “1916 Easter Rising.” Retrieved May 24, 2023 (https://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/easterrising/songs/rs04.shtml).
Beiner, Guy. 2018. “A Short History of Irish Memory in the Long Twentieth Century.” Pp. 708-725 in The Cambridge History of Ireland, T. Bartlett, ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Britannica. 2022. “Fenian”. Retrieved May 24, 2023 (https://www.britannica.com/topic/Fenians).
Hargan, Garrett. 2022. “Feile an Phobail branded a ‘hate fest’ after video shows pro-IRA chanting at Wolfe Tones concert.” Retrieved May 20, 2023 (https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/entertainment/music/feile-an-phobail-branded-a-hate-fest-after-video-shows-pro-ira-chanting-at-wolfe-tones-concert/41912431.html).
Henke, J. 1983. “Blessed Are the Peacemakers, U2.” Rolling Stone 397: 11.
Ingham, Chris (2003). The Rough Guide to the Beatles. London: Rough Guides.
Loughlin, James. 2007. “Creating ‘A Social and Geographic Fact’: Regional Identity and the Ulster Question, 1880s-1920s.” Past & Present, 195(1): 159-196
Lowry, David R. 1976. “Internment: Detention without Trial in Northern Ireland.” Human Rights, 261-331.
Mac Laughlin, Jim. 2001. Reimagining the Nation-State: The Contested Terrains of Nation-Building. London: Pluto Press.
McCann, May. 1995.“Music and Politics in Ireland: The Specificity of the Folk Revival in Belfast.” British Journal of Ethnomusicology, 4:51–75.
McCartney, Paul and Linda McCartney. “Interview with ABC News, 1972.” Retrieved May 28, 2023 (https://www.the-paulmccartney-project.com/interview/interview-with-abc-news/).
McKittrick, David and David McVea. 2002. Making Sense of the Troubles: The Story of the Conflict in Northern Ireland. Chicago: New Amsterdam Books.
Parfitt, Robert. 2017. “Musical Culture and the Spirit of Irish Nationalism, c. 1848-1972.” PhD diss., University of Oxford
Smyth, Jim. 2017. “INTRODUCTION: From Popular Mythology to History and Memory.” Pp. 1-8 in Remembering the Troubles: Contesting the Recent Past in Northern Ireland, J. Smyth, ed. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctvpj7cpp.
Stuckenschmidt, H.H. 1976. Twentieth Century Music. Translated by Richard Deveson. New York: McGraw-Hill.
The Wolfe Tones. “The Wolfe Tones Official Site Home.” Retrieved May 23, 2023 (https://www.wolfetonesofficialsite.com/).
Ward, Alan J. 1980. The Easter Rising: Revolution and Irish Nationalism. Wheeling, IL: Harlan Davidson.
The Troubles in Northern Ireland have an enduring iconography, even twenty-five years on from the signing of the Good Friday Agreement. This is partially to do with the long tradition of attaching social, political, and historical narratives to place that has been well-observed in the island of Ireland. Especially in the working-class areas of Belfast and (London)derry, one cannot go anywhere without coming across an area of significance to the Troubles (Feldman 436-437). As a result, specific neighborhoods and buildings have acquired a certain status in the public consciousness of the Troubles. One of the most notorious of these is Divis Flats, designed and built on the lower Falls Road in Belfast between 1966 and 1972 (Page 3). The flats would eventually consist of 12 interconnected eight story deck access blocks as well as one twenty-story tower, and had about 2,400 residents in 850 flats (Roy 1).
From the beginning, the flats were controversial, as part of a slum clearance project by the Northern Ireland government. The Pound Loney, the neighborhood torn down to make way for the flats, was known as a safe and close-knit community, with family and friends living close to each other, and many small pubs and shops. However, the Victorian-era housing often lacked amenities such as central heating or running water (Roy 19). Thus, when the Divis Flats housing project was announced, the reaction amongst the residents of the Pound Loney was decidedly mixed, with many choosing to accept a move to Divis in order to stay close to family and friends, despite their reservations about the buildings. This attitude can be seen in a quote from a man who had lived in the Pound Loney before moving to Divis Flats– “the Pound Loney is where I was born and where I will die even if the Brits change the name to Divis Flats; for Christ sake, they might as well have called it Long Kesh” (Dowler 102). The flats themselves were described as “Europe’s youngest slum” even before construction had been completed (Page 3).
The flats quickly gained a reputation for violence, with a British Army base built on the roof of Divis Tower in 1972. This observation post was used for surveillance of the flats themselves, as well as the greater Lower Falls Road (Page 13-14). Soldiers lived on the top two floors of Divis Tower, and supplies were transported by helicopter (Alfaro & Roulston 28). The military made use of the design of the flats to carry out regular searches of the inhabitants (Roy 33). Resistance among the population, and the high rates of membership of first, the IRA and PIRA, and later, the INLA, meant that it became colloquially known as the “planet of the Irps,” a slang term for the INLA’s associated political party, the IRSP (Roy 8-9). Death and injury due to paramilitary or military activity were relatively commonplace, including among children as young as nine or ten (Alfaro & Roulston 28; Roy 9).
In addition, there were several issues with the facilities of the flats, such as damp, mold, lack of laundry facilities, broken elevators, dirty stairwells, broken lights, overflowing rubbish chutes, the inability to supervise children, not enough play areas for the over-a-thousand children, broken railings, inability to stay warm, and more (Alfaro & Roulston 28-29; Roy 30-31, 33). Anger over living conditions led the residents to campaign for the demolition of the flats, which finally occurred in the summer of 1993, with only the tower (and the army base on top) remaining (Dowler 103; Roy 13-14). The army base itself stayed until 2005 (Page 21). Despite the fact that the flats are long-gone, they have endured as a symbol of the Troubles in the public consciousness, and still regularly feature in UK and Northern Ireland press relating to disappearances and murders from the time period.
Citations:
Dowler, Lorraine. “Preserving the Peace and Maintaining Order: Deconstructing the Legal Landscape of Public Housing in West Belfast, Northern Ireland.” Urban Geography, vol. 22, no. 2, 2001, pp. 100–105, https://doi.org/10.2747/0272-3638.22.2.100.
Feldman, Allen. “Violence and Vision: The Prosthetics and Aesthetics of Terror.” States of Violence, edited by Fernando Coronil and Julie Skurski, The University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, Michigan, 2006, pp. 425–459.
Gómez Alfaro, Garikoitz, and Fearghus Roulston. “Nostalgia for ‘HMP Divis’ and ‘HMP Rossville’: Memories of the Everyday in Northern Ireland’s High-Rise Flats.” Journal of War & Culture Studies, vol. 14, no. 1, 2021, pp. 25–44, https://doi.org/10.1080/17526272.2021.1873532.
Page, Adam (2017) Appropriating architecture: violence, surveillance and anxiety in Belfast’s Divis Flats. Candide – Journal for Architectural Knowledge (10). pp. 90-112. ISSN 1869-6465
Roy, Megan Deirdre. “Divis Flats: The Social and Political Implications of a Modern Housing Project in Belfast, Northern Ireland, 1968-1998.” The Iowa Historical Review, vol. 1, no. 1, 2007, pp. 1–44, https://doi.org/10.17077/2373-1842.1001.
Object 1: “High Life” part 1 BBC One documentary, 2010
The story of Divis Flats continues to attract attention today. This is a TV documentary from BBC One Northern Ireland first aired in 2010. As well as providing a general history and overview of the flats, it also contains several interviews of various players in the story of the flats. One of those interviewed is the architect, Frank Robertson. Interestingly, he shies away from really acknowledging issues with the design itself, instead blaming the residents of Divis Flats for issues with the facilities.
However, one of the most interesting aspects of this documentary is what it doesn’t acknowledge, namely the bias present in the planning of the flats. Similarly to the Bronx in New York City, the Pound Loney community was razed so that a highway could be built– in this case, the M1 motorway (Roy 4). In addition, by concentrating the Catholic community in high-rises, unionist politicians were able to ensure that Protestants would continue living in the nearby areas of the Shankill Road and Sandy Row, instead of moving further out and leaving room for Catholics to dominate the constituencies in the inner city (Roy 39). This process of ghettoization “implemented imperial and colonial agendas” by reducing social contact between opposing sides (Feldman 433-434). The British Army also had a hand in planning public housing in Belfast, which can clearly be seen in the design of the flats, where every door pointed towards the army post (Roy 24).
This documentary makes no reference to any of the above, perhaps unsurprisingly, as the BBC is the national broadcaster of the UK, and is thus predisposed to slant its news coverage towards the British state. Divis Flats is instead presented almost paternalistically, blaming the poor conditions on the residents just not knowing how to live in a modern high rise.
Object 2: The British Army base on Divis Tower in the early 2000s
“A man does not have a chance in these streets in the sky. At least in the old Pound Loney if you saw them coming to lift you, you had a chance to make a break for it down the street.”
–a resident of Divis Flats, as quoted in Dowler 102
Many of the residents of Divis Flats described it as a prison, with it even earning the nickname “HM Divis” (Alfaro & Roulston 28). This was not least due to the presence of the British Army base on top of Divis Tower, and the constant surveillance, humiliation, and harassment that entailed. Although the majority of people in Divis were initially not opposed to the British Army, this quickly changed due to a series of riots in which the military shot several people, including small children (Roy 26). The resulting widespread hostility amongst the residents led the army, in turn, to regard all residents of the flats as potential IRA members, which made them even more hostile, in a vicious cycle of violence.
The British Army took to conducting house searches, which the residents referred to as raids (Page 10). They blocked off entrances and exits by positioning soldiers on the stairs and lifts, and detained the people they rounded up in the laundry tower (Page 10-11). They also changed the flats to fit their needs, breaking and blacking out lights so that they would be harder to see, and cutting the cables on all of the lifts after the murder of two soldiers by an IRA bomb hidden in the lift shaft (Alfaro & Roulston 33-34; Roy 33).
The army frequently pasted photos of residents taken from the surveillance post onto the windows of flats below, heightening the paranoia of the residents (Page 14). This also served as a tool of humiliation, with one man interviewed telling a story of a friend of his who adjusted his zipper after he realized it was undone, and was featured on posters the next day with the caption “Do you want your children around this man?” (Dowler 100).
Object 3: “Ulster’s Lost Generation” New York Times article by John Conroy, 2 August 1981
Divis Flats attracted attention from outside of Northern Ireland due to its status as a symbol of the Troubles and a republican stronghold. This is a New York Times article from 1981, about three months after the death of Bobby Sands. It discusses the high crime rate in Divis Flats, its perception among the community, and the everyday violence, as well as the role of the IRA in policing Divis Flats. Among the people interviewed are a Divis resident in his twenties who is not part of the IRA, the press officer for Sinn Fein, and a representative of the RUC.
One of the main focuses of the article is the prominence of kneecapping as a form of punishment used by the IRA in their policing of their community. One man interviewed in the article, who was accused of car theft, was offered the choice of either cleaning the walkways of Divis Flats or being kneecapped by the IRA, and chose the kneecapping, because he felt that cleaning walkways would be too humiliating.
Another aspect of Divis Flats touched on by the article is its perception in the wider community of Belfast. Although the Divis resident interviewed looked for a job as an auto mechanic, as soon as he said that he was from the flats, he was turned down. This was not unusual; when applying for jobs, residents of the flats would often list the address of a friend or relative because of Divis’s notoriety (Roy 25). Partially because of this, the unemployment rate in the Falls area tended around 68 percent, and 51 percent of Divis residents depended solely on welfare (Roy 2).
Object 4: Photo of children playing outside Divis Flats by Chris Steele-Perkins, 1978
This picture shows children playing outside of Divis Flats, with the remnants of the former Pound Loney community behind them. Children in the flats were usually unsupervised, as the design of the flats did not allow parents to easily observe their children (Roy 40). This meant that they were targets, both as potential recruits for paramilitaries, and for being injured by the paramilitaries or the army. The first child killed in the Troubles was nine-year-old Patrick Rooney, who was killed in Divis Tower in August of 1969 when the RUC fired a machine gun into the flats (Alfaro & Roulston 28). In a study comparing the children from Divis Flats to those from a nearby terraced Catholic housing estate, children from Divis Flats “were shown to have significantly higher rates of emotional distress.” (Roy 20)
The poor conditions of the flats themselves also created danger for children. In a 1987 health and housing survey, 36 percent of the children in the flats had frequent coughs and 10 percent had asthma symptoms caused by the ever-present damp and mold, and in the mid-1980s, a child died by falling through a broken railing on the stairway (Roy 33-34). However, there were still moments of fun for the children, with one former resident recalling:
“I remember one of the things we used to do if we were bored was to walk round the balconies looking for black bows on the doors and go in to see the corpse. It didn’t matter if you knew them or not […] God love some of those poor people, we must of had them tortured, cos if it was a good corpse we’d go back a couple of times.”
– Veronica, quoted in Alfaro & Roulston 38
Object 5: “Riots in the Divis Flats” by Peter Marlow, 1981
Given the status of Divis Flats as a republican stronghold, riots and protests were not uncommon. This photo depicts rioters after the death of Bobby Sands, the first of the hunger strikers in the Maze prison to die. During the hunger strikes, young people living in the flats “hijacked and burned over 100 cars, buses, and trucks around the complex, barricaded all of the entrances, and turned Divis into a “no go” area,” sheets were draped over balconies to block surveillance from the tower, and armed IRA and INLA members patrolled openly (Roy 29). The security forces were not able to get into the flats for six weeks.
This is only one of many examples of resistance against the security forces. When soldiers tried to carry out raids, women would rattle pot lids off of the balconies to alert the surrounding area, and children would throw trash (Alfaro & Roulston 35). In 1983, over 50 percent of residents actively supported either the IRA or the INLA (Roy 38). These paramilitaries set booby traps in the flats for the soldiers, including a pipe bomb in a stairwell in February of 1974 that injured eleven residents, but not the patrol unit it was intended for, and fired on soldiers in Divis Tower (Roy 8, 11).
There were also more peaceful forms of protest, such as a 1971 rent strike in protest of internment that saw 100 percent participation from the residents of the flats (Dowler 103). In addition, many Divis residents attended rallies of the Women’s Peace Movement, a peaceful protest group, in 1976 (Roy 10).
Object 6: “Belfast’s Divis Flats to be demolished” Guardian article by Bob Rodwell, 9 July 1986
Although residents had been calling for Divis Flats to be demolished since 1973, only a year after its completion, the Housing Executive did not accede to their demands until 1986 (Alfaro & Roulston 29). This article from the Guardian announcing the upcoming demolition cites vandalism and safety concerns for the military and police as reasons for razing the flats. This may have been the government’s stated reasoning, but for the residents, this was the culmination of over a decade of sustained protest, both through raising public awareness and forcibly rendering apartments uninhabitable.
The Divis Residents’ Association was formed in the late 1970s or early 1980s, and aimed to “raise public awareness through publications and studies” (Roy 12). They listed violence, social problems, and structural defects as reasons for demolition, but their biggest one was the “feeling of hopelessness, of being trapped in Divis” (Page 18). The Divis Demolition Committee, meanwhile, formed in 1979, decided to take matters into their own hands. They would make recently vacated flats uninhabitable by taking windows and doors out of the frames, breaking the frames, knocking through walls, pulling out electrical fittings, and closing the flats up with cinder blocks (Page 19-20; Roy 12). They also released rats in the office of the Housing Executive to show what daily life was like in Divis (Page 19). Sean Stitt, a member of the Committee at the time, explained their actions by saying “We can say to the Housing Executive, that if they don’t demolish Divis, the people of Divis Flats will certainly demolish it” (qtd. Page 20).
Ultimately, though all of the reasons given above may have played a role in Divis’s demolition, the major one was the same reason the Pound Loney had been torn down thirty years before: to make way for the M1 motorway (Roy 12-13).
Object 7: Photo of mural calling for demilitarization of Divis Tower by Peter Moloney, 19 February 2003
The flats themselves were completely demolished by the summer of 1993, but the tower remains to this day. The military base on the tower continued to keep watch over the lower Falls Road area until 2005, meaning that the residents there continued to feel a sense of paranoia from being observed almost twenty years after the announcement of the demolition of Divis Flats (Roy 2). This photograph, taken in 2003, shows a mural asking for the removal of the Divis Tower army base with the tower itself looming in the background. The mural was located on the International Wall on Divis Street, and was one of the first things a visitor to West Belfast coming in from the city center would see. Although the rest of Belfast is shown as a group of much shorter buildings silhouetted against the sky in the background, Divis Tower is large and bright, showing that it doesn’t belong.
Symbolically, the military base on Divis Tower was a remnant from the violent past for those living near it. It “became metonymic with the conflict itself, especially in its urban manifestation” (Alfaro & Roulston 35). While the blocks of flats became part of the fabric of a sort of mythos of republicanism during the Troubles, the Tower itself is not gone and is thus harder in some ways to reconcile with the violence that occurred there. Today, the Tower houses older people who need public housing, and is considered desirable enough that there is a long waiting list to live there.
Object 8: Photo of Jean McConville with three of her ten children, Associated Press
Though Divis Flats has (other than the tower) physically faded into the past, it is very much still alive in the public memory. This is a photo of Jean McConville, who was “disappeared” and murdered by the IRA on suspicion of being an informant in 1972, shown here with three of her ten children. She lived in Divis Flats when she vanished, and remains one of an extensive list of crimes from the Troubles that endure in public memory. She is particularly notable because of Gerry Adams’s alleged association with her disappearance and murder (Alfaro & Roulston 28). This particular case threatens the political status quo in Northern Ireland, making it clear that the violent past lurks just below the surface.
The flats’ symbolic status is furthered by the fact that their existence maps pretty closely onto the timeline of the Troubles. The first block was opened in May of 1968, four years before Bloody Sunday, and the final block was demolished in 1993, five years before the Good Friday Agreement was signed (Alfaro & Roulston 27). High and low points in the intensity of the conflict were directly echoed in Divis Flats. For this reason, it is often perceived and portrayed as a microcosm of the Troubles– the conflict centered in one area. This can be seen in movies about the Troubles. For example, the 2014 film ‘71 features Divis Flats as a nightmarish symbol for Northern Ireland as a whole (Alfaro & Roulston 36). Ultimately, perhaps a single area that experiences so much concentrated death and violence can never truly be erased from the public memory, even long after the physical structures are gone.
Bibliography:
British Army. “Soldiers Work at the Top of the 19-Storey Divis Tower.” BBC News UK, BBC, Belfast, Northern Ireland, 2005.
Conroy, John. “Ulster’s Lost Generation.” New York Times, 2 Aug. 1981, pp. 17–21.
Cunningham, Gemma, and Paul McGuigan. High Life Part 1. BBC One– High Life, Episode One, BBC One Northern Ireland, 2010, https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00v9kl0. Accessed 2023.
Dowler, Lorraine. “Preserving the Peace and Maintaining Order: Deconstructing the Legal Landscape of Public Housing in West Belfast, Northern Ireland.” Urban Geography, vol. 22, no. 2, 2001, pp. 100–105, https://doi.org/10.2747/0272-3638.22.2.100.
Feldman, Allen. “Violence and Vision: The Prosthetics and Aesthetics of Terror.” States of Violence, edited by Fernando Coronil and Julie Skurski, The University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor, Michigan, 2006, pp. 425–459.
Gómez Alfaro, Garikoitz, and Fearghus Roulston. “Nostalgia for ‘HMP Divis’ and ‘HMP Rossville’: Memories of the Everyday in Northern Ireland’s High-Rise Flats.” Journal of War & Culture Studies, vol. 14, no. 1, 2021, pp. 25–44, https://doi.org/10.1080/17526272.2021.1873532.
“Jean McConville with Three of Her Children.” RTÉ Ireland, RTÉ Ireland, Belfast, 2015.
Marlow, Peter. Riots in the Divis Flats. New York City, 1981, https://library.artstor.org/#/asset/AMAGNUMIG_10311502840. Accessed 2023.
Morrison, Brian. “Divis Flats.” Troubles Archive, Arts Council of Northern Ireland, 2014, http://www.troublesarchive.com/index.php/artforms/architecture/piece/divis-flats. Accessed 2023.
Page, Adam (2017) Appropriating architecture: violence, surveillance and anxiety in Belfast’s Divis Flats. Candide – Journal for Architectural Knowledge (10). pp. 90-112. ISSN 1869-6465
Rodwell, Bob. “Belfast’s Divis Flats to Be Demolished.” The Guardian, 9 July 1986. Nexis Uni, https://advance.lexis.com/document/?pdmfid=1516831&crid=f8a0684a-051b-4614-acf1-3ac5de0a39ff&pddocfullpath=%2fshared%2fdocument%2fnews%2furn%3acontentItem%3a40GH-JC70-00VY-82XJ-00000-00&pdcontentcomponentid=138620&pdteaserkey=sr0&pditab=allpods&ecomp=-znyk&earg=sr0&prid=7527a2a9-3358-433b-bed8-1cbdd8a2e23e&aci=la&cbc=0&lnsi=62415cbb-4e27-48e7-928d-8af07d9e3e43&rmflag=0&sit=null. Accessed 2023.
Roy, Megan Deirdre. “Divis Flats: The Social and Political Implications of a Modern Housing Project in Belfast, Northern Ireland, 1968-1998.” The Iowa Historical Review, vol. 1, no. 1, 2007, pp. 1–44, https://doi.org/10.17077/2373-1842.1001.
Steele-Perkins, Chris. Outside Divis Flats. New York City, 1978, https://library.artstor.org/#/asset/AMAGNUMIG_10311511498. Accessed 2023.
Northern Ireland has an extensive and turbulent history of tribunal parties pervading its electoral system. On one end of the spectrum, the main two nationalist parties: the Social Democratic Labour Party (SDLP) and Sinn Féin battle for the vote of the nationalist, and largely Catholic population. On the other side, the two largest unionist parties: the Ulster Unionist Party (UUP) and the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) compete for the vote share of the unionist, Protestant population (Dunn 1995). Across the nationalist political landscape as a whole, the SDLP represents a much more moderate voting base as opposed to its more extreme rival, Sinn Féin.
Initially, Sinn Féin expressed little interest in electoral pursuits, and still to this day, maintains an abstentionist policy towards the Westminster Parliament (M. Whiting 2016). Consequently, there was minimalelectoral competition between SDLP and Sinn Féin– at least until the 1980s.
In 1981, Sinn Féin experienced its “first meaningful republican contact with elections” (M. Whiting 2016, p. 295). As the hunger strikes raged on among the interned prisoners in Northern Ireland, Sinn Féin put forth hunger striker, Bobby Sands, as an electoral candidate. Sands’ subsequent win was symbolic of the party’s initial step toward their “armalite and ballot box” strategy (M. Whiting 2016). Sinn Féin’s active participation in elections contradicted one of its founding principles: the rejection of legitimacy of Northern Ireland’s government as separate from the Republic of Ireland (M. Whiting 2016). However, it is the gradual abandonment of such radical tenets that have propelled Sinn Féin to the forefront of Republican electoral success.
As Sinn Féin progressively asserted itself as a formidable contender in Stormont elections, it posed a genuine challenge to the SDLP’s historically firm grip on the nationalist vote. Since 1981, Sinn Féin’s vote share has consistently grown, culminating in its surpassing of the SDLP in 2001 (CAIN 2023). Presently, Sinn Féin stands as the largest party in Northern Ireland (Tonge 2022).
Sinn Féin’s electoral success can be attributed in part to alterations in its strategy. By distancing itself from past violence, particularly its association with the Irish Republican Army (IRA), Sinn Féin has garnered increased support and political prominence. Additionally, Sinn Féin’s growing success came partially as a result of mobilizing previous non-voters and new voters. Simultaneously, by criticizing the SDLP for being too sympathetic to the British and thereby out of touch with the nationalist community, Sinn Féin has siphoned votes away from its more moderate rival.
As evidenced by its status as the largest party in Northern Ireland, Sinn Féin has effectively become the nationalist party best representing its community. The party’s growth, from being entirely abstentionist to an essential part of the government, was complicated by its own radical messaging which it had to manipulate in order to be more palatable to voters. The SDLP frequently had to pay the price for Sinn Féin’s victories despite the former’s continued well-intentioned and diplomatic successes (McGlinchey 2019). The SDLP’s gradual fall appears idiosyncratic due to its historic prominence, but Sinn Féin’s strategic moves especially since the 1980s form a coherent narrative explaining its ascent to become the most influential political party.
The Orange Order, founded in 1795, has a rich tradition of public marches–called Orange Walks—to celebrate their history and identity. Predominantly held on the Twelfth of July, these marches commemorate the Protestant King William III’s victory over Catholic King James II at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690, serving as an ever-lasting reminder of the Protestant victory over Catholics.1 The Orange Order’s marches go beyond being mere historical re-enactments. However, imagery of historical figures can be seen on Lambeg drums and banners to commemorate King William III, along with other prominent figures of the monarchy and Protestantism. The marches also serve as assertive displays of Unionist identity and cultural tradition, effectively adapting to changing political circumstances. These parades contribute to the Order’s relevance and longevity despite causing inter-communal tension and often leading to violent conflict. These marches are not simply historical commemorations but robust demonstrations of Protestant and Unionist identity within the ever-evolving socio-political context of Northern Ireland. They effectively illustrate the Order’s continued relevance and resilience over time, despite experiencing periods of inter-communal conflict and tension.2
Even though Orange Order membership has drastically declined since the Troubles, the organization still maintains prominence and is highly engaged in various Northern Ireland Unionist communities. In order to continue to exercise their influence as a group, they assert political beliefs; however, their relationships with different Unionist political parties have shifted over time. Initially, the Orange Order held a long-standing relationship with the UUP; the UUP served as the dominant party that represented the will of the Unionist voters. But, the UUP began to lose favor among the Orange Order, with members seeing the DUP—a more hardline Unionist group—as better suited to uphold Protestant and Unionist ideals. The Good Friday Agreement served as the Order’s transition from the UUP to the DUP, with the DUP opposing the agreement and not being present at the peace talks, showing that concessions to the Nationalists would not be tolerated, which garnered support from the Orange Order. The shifting of the sympathy of the Orange Order from the UUP to the DUP was further entrenched by the DUP and Orange Order both actively supporting a “yes” vote for Brexit. In contrast, the UUP desired to remain a part of the EU. The political transition from the UUP to the DUP was characterized by hardened convictions within the Order and their desire to ensure the continuation of Protestant heritage in Northern Ireland by sympathizing with hardline DUP policies. The Orange Order also established social networks for its members, such as connecting different Lodges, known as Loyalist Orange Lodges, throughout different counties, districts, and even globally.3 These social networks grew and were strengthened by the fact that they are reaching out to younger generations and are embracing more inclusive dialogues.4
The reasons for their attempts to branch out and expand the group are fueled by a deep sense of insecurity towards the growing Nationalist and non-sectarian ideologies in Northern Ireland. The Orange Order views itself as the main bastion of British and Unionist traditional values within a nation that is predominantly Catholic.5 Coming out of The Troubles, the Orange Order fears a loss of their cultural and religious identity in an environment where they are increasingly seen as a minority group. The power-sharing nature of the GFA meant that concessions had to be made on both sides, resulting in members of the Protestant community believing that these changes were diluting their identity. As a result, parades and public displays of Protestant heritage and Unionist traditions/ideals are central to the Orange Order’s mission to preserve the legacy of Unionism and ensure the continuation of Protestantism across the island. These large public festivals organized by the Orange Order each July play a critical role in the organization’s recruitment and upholding/exhibiting their Unionist traditions and Protestant heritage.
During the marching season, the Orange Walks across Northern Ireland are a constant reminder of the ongoing struggles and the complex legacy of sectarianism in North Ireland. On the one hand, the Orange Order claims they deserve the right to display their cultural traditions; however, these marches often antagonize and lead to bigotry toward Nationalists. The parades and accompanying bonfires often feature disrespectful songs and chants towards Nationalists and, in extreme cases, the burning of effigies, thus inciting fear and violent responses.
An example is the Drumcree conflict in the late 1990s, where members of the Orange Order marched through Portadown’s predominantly Catholic suburb, leading to standoffs and violence. The continued conflict concerning the Drumcree parade led to the passing of the Public Processions Act of 1998, giving the Parade Commission the authority to place restrictions on parades that could potentially lead to public disorder and violence.6 However, unionists and members of the Orange Order criticized the agreement, citing it as yet another infringement upon their cultural traditions. Therefore, public displays of Unionist heritage and traditions, such as the Orange Walks and large bonfires, promote their ideals, help recruit new members, and serve as an intimidation tactic that increases tensions and conflict. The Orange Order marches serve as an example of how cultural expressions in Northern Ireland can, unfortunately, cause adverse effects on relationships between communities.7
Footnotes
Kaufmann. (2007). The Orange Order : A contemporary Northern Irish history. Oxford University Press.
Stevenson, C., Condor, S. and Abell, J. (2007), The Minority-Majority Conundrum in Northern Ireland: An Orange Order Perspective. Political Psychology, 28: 105-125. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9221.2007.00554.x
Tonge, Evans, J., Jeffery, R., & McAuley, J. W. (2011). New Order: Political Change and the Protestant Orange Tradition in Northern Ireland. British Journal of Politics & International Relations, 13(3), 400–419. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-856X.2010.00421.x
Kaufmann. (2007). The Orange Order: A contemporary Northern Irish history. Oxford University Press.
McAuley, & Tonge, J. (2008). “Faith, Crown and State”: Contemporary Discourses within the Orange Order in Northern Ireland. Peace and Conflict Studies, 15(1), 136–136.
Bryan, Dominic. Orange Parades: The Politics of Ritual, Tradition and Control. Pluto Press, 2000. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctt18fs351. Accessed 1 June 2023.
The Genesis of the Disarmament Issues and the Growing Political Divide
Beginning in the mid 1990’s and lasting all the way up until the 2010’s, the decommissioning of paramilitary weaponry in Northern Ireland quickly established itself as one of the central issues prolonging the peace process brought on by the Good Friday Agreement. Fundamentally, the issue centered around trust. More specifically, which political or paramilitary groups had earned it and who simply couldn’t be spared any on account of their failure to adhere to the commitment to disarmament. There are many historical cases which one could point to and claim that they specifically marked at least a symbolic beginning to the decommissioning process. However, it’s accurate to assert that the process became officially set in motion in 1995 when the British and Irish governments established an independent international body geared towards solving the weapons issue (Van Tangen, 1998). This body, duly named the Independent International Commission on Decommissioning was spearheaded by Canadian General John de Chastelain and U.S. Senate Majority Leader George Mitchell, along with assistance from Finnish Brigadier-General Tauno Nieminen (Van Tangen, 1998). Distinguishing himself from his peers, Mitchell played a particularly important role in the peace process, as it relates to decommissioning, due to his drafting of the Mitchell Report – a brief which clearly and explicitly resolved some of the key discrepancies concerning how decommissioning was to be carried out on a cross-party basis (“CAIN: Events: Peace: Report of the International Body on Arms Decommissioning, 22 January 1996,” 2023). Most worthy of note in his report, Mitchell explicitly called on the need for compromise, stating that decommissioning needed to be conducted in tandem with the peace talks in order to end the existing political gridlock between parties (Deane, 2009).
Although significant, Mitchell’s report ultimately did little when it came to quelling sectarian tensions regarding decommissioning; especially with regards to IRA/Sinn Féin and UUP & DUP relations. In fact, by ensuring that both peace negotiations and disarmament would occur in-tandem, the stipulations of his report only created more room for political unrest. Northern Ireland is unique in that it is typically the case for post-conflict societies to go through decommissioning processes either before or after their new governmental institutions are established (Gallaher 2017). Unlike the rest, Northern Ireland undertook the burden of navigating both of these challenges simultaneously. It is precisely this dual-focus that makes way for the construction of the Good Friday Agreement and decommissioning to become ostensibly intertwined aspects of Northern Ireland’s larger bids for peace. Political leaders quickly came to realize the political benefits that would be extended to them by taking hardline stances opposed to the stances their political rivals clung to (Mitchell, 2010). This realization, coupled together with the altogether unspecific guidelines for the decommissioning process put forth by the GFA, opened the door for decommissioning to become one of the easiest methods parties could turn to in order to gain political leverage within the broader context of Northern Ireland (Mitchell, 2010). This, along with the inherent threat of violence that failure to decommission on behalf of paramilitary groups posed, only stirred the pot and ultimately led to a prolonging of the peace process that could have been entirely avoidable (Von Tangen, 1998).
On display throughout the rest of this exhibit will be several artifacts that highlight the overtly fractionalizing role decommissioning played throughout the majority of the talks. The main point of emphasis resting upon the fact that the ambiguity surrounding the decommissioning process served as an area of volatility within the larger realm of post-Troubles Northern Ireland that effectively prolonged the conflict and inadvertently, stratified the political parties engaged to extreme degrees.
The study of gender and conflict presents an interesting tension between who takes on community leadership in times of trouble, and what roles different genders are prescribed. As studied in larger intersections of war and gender, the Troubles reflected a larger theme of men taking on an active fighting role, and women being presented as victims (Wylie, 2017). Republicans tended to break with this standard, as while the Troubles evolved a need for active militant presence led to the wider involvement of women in paramilitary groups. However, Loyalist groups held true to these social standards, with limits put on violent activity due to their socialized believed fitness as caretakers. Women on both sides played an active and influential role in the Troubles, however differing expectations and social standards surrounding the role of women between Loyalists and Republicans meant while Republican women took an active violent role in paramilitary organizations, Loyalist women were not even welcome in their ranks, being limited to caretaking and artillery work.
Loyalist women were limited by deeply ingrained and gendered Protestant community expectations, with their involvement in paramilitary groups largely pertaining to auxiliary and organizing roles, as men in power saw a future of female-led leadership as a threat to traditional ideas of family and community organization. Loyalist paramilitary groups, and Loyalist culture as a whole, were defined as motivated by the gendered roles of family and the workforce. Closely intertwined with Protestantism, ideas on the role of marriage and the role of women in the house were also prevalent in responses to the troubles of Loyalist groups. Responsibility to family and protecting a shared identity was at the core of the conflict for many, contributing to many women who were seen traditionally as the caretakers of their communities involved in the Troubles (McEvoy, 2008). Masculinity was central to Loyalist traditions like parading and bonfires, with the subordination of femininity being used to continue this at times violent tradition (Racioppi and O’Sullivan, 2000). With roles for women being limited through sexism and beliefs on women’s fragility and natural caretaking abilities, involvement in active Protestant militarism is divided into gendered lines, with women having to take an active role in creating a space for their own beliefs.
The role of women in the Irish Republican Army was vital to the organization’s activities, as they undertook tasks of smuggling weapons and explosives, participating in protests, and eventually taking up arms. Despite a persistent battle for equal status to male IRA members, female members of auxiliary organizations such as Cumann na mBan enjoyed a rather expansive role in the organization. This is possibly attributed to the IRA’s classification as an anti-state liberatory organization (M. Allison, 2004), which made the subversion of traditional gender roles more enticing and appreciated in their use for undermining Unionist power. In addition, women surpassed men in IRA membership, outnumbering them roughly 8 to 1. (Journal of Reading 1978: 15) Despite being late in military involvement, female members of the IRA did not evade violence; many women are commemorated in murals, and advertisements for their untimely deaths at the hands of Loyalists or British forces. Moreover, despite the rather progressive position they held, a division remained between the feminist perspectives of female members and the principles put forth by the organization, which at times made the choice of supporting the IRA controversial as women simultaneously fought for a united Ireland and gender equality.
In this exhibit, we dive into the complex relationships between women and the communities they inhabit. As violence was inherent and intertwined with the living situations in Northern Ireland, understanding the complex relationships between women and these violent paramilitary organizations is essential to understanding the conflict. We compare and contrast the paramilitary interactions and involvement between Republican and Loyalist women.
Loyalist Artifacts
Interview Quotes by Sandra McEvoy
“The question [of why I committed acts of paramilitary violence] was put to me umpteen times at different places …And I turn around and says[sic]“Me and my kind were there so that you and your kind could go to bed at night and sleep. That is why we were there. That’s why we the women were there at that time, so that you and your kind . . . You want to go in and close your doors and close blinds and go to your bed and sleep while me and the like of me are out?” . . . It was something that you felt you had to do. You were there. It was your duty. It was your duty to do it.”
Anonymous interview by Sandra McEvoy, Belfast, June 2006.
“As I say, because we felt at risk, you know? We felt hard done by. You could see your whole culture and your whole way of life just going down the drain and becoming a united Ireland. You know? You could just see that. You can see that to this very day we are all still very, very frustrated. You could see that then. You can still see it.”
“Chloe,” interview by Sandra McEvoy, Belfast, June 2006.
In a series of interviews, many anonymous, conducted by political scientist Sandra McEvoy in Belfast in April of 2006, motivations for joining and supporting paramilitary groups from the female perspective were discovered. Socialized violence and expectations of female care towards their own families and the larger Loyalist community were ingrained by protestant ideologies. These interviews show that even when women did take up arms after facing this continual threat, their actions were questioned based on gendered assumptions of their role in the conflict. Threats to personal beliefs and ways of life were at the forefront of women becoming involved in active paramilitary groups, although in small ways. Selected quotes here provide insight into a duty of care Loyalist women took upon themselves as the conflict and violence progressed deeper into their own communities. The need to resort to violence to protect the Loyalist identity in the face of perceived attacks was validated by many as something not just for themselves, but for fellow community members who share this identity. Instead of feeling at risk in their own homes, as described, these women took on active paramilitary defensive roles in their own communities to rid others of this same shared feeling. The importance of the space that they inhabit and comfort within isolated Loyalist communities motivated involvement, driving these women into paramilitary action, although not always largely supported in their own communities based on ingrained and gendered ideas of women’s roles in the conflict.
Royal Dublin Fusilier’s Association Voluntary Aid Detachments
This image of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers Association’s early days portrays the organization’s reliance on female aid. An infantry regiment of the British Army, created in 1881 and disbanded in 1922, they were one of eight “Irish” regiments of the army raised and garrisoned in Ireland. The organization disbanded with the establishment of the Irish Free State. They were extremely at odds with the beliefs of Republican political organizations, even taking arms and directly attacking their bunkers over the belief that the regiment was directly in service of King George. Partnering with the Ulster Women’s Unionist Council (UWUC) as well as the UVF, the RDFA worked to create a central authority around medicine to respond to a possible crisis. Within this partnership, Unionist women prepared themselves to resist Home Rule by forming a network of Voluntary Aid Detachments. Used largely during World War I, then eventually transferred into protecting Ulster protestant communities as the home rule conflict progressed, as they were set up in expectation of civil rule based on this prior training. Before the war was even declared, therefore, the Ulster VADs had a membership of 3,520. This group pictured was from Kingstown, Co. Dublin. They prepared to tend to wounded Loyalist volunteers in the event of armed conflict, specifically over Home Rule. This image and set of beliefs behind the caretaking role of women further the socialized idea that women were there to aid men’s leadership in the conflict, as they were unfit to handle or partake in the violence from early on.
WENDY’S 2 FINGERS TO UDA; Windows Smashed but Adair Henchmen’s Mother Tells Loyalist Death Squads: ‘I’m Back to Stay! by Cameron Kane
This news article, entitled “WENDY’S 2 FINGERS TO UDA; Windows Smashed but Adair Henchmen’s Mother Tells Loyalist Death Squads: ‘I’m Back to Stay!’” discusses the now exiled former “Queen of the UDA” and provides insight into modern relations between UDA paramilitary organizations and they community they once served. The Queen of the UDA, Wendy “Bucket” Millar founded the first women’s unit on Shankill Road in West Belfast, where she grew up. Her group was particularly active and highly visible due to the beehive hairstyle the group wore. She had the nicknames of “Bucket” on account of her outspoken, loud-mouthed personality, and “Queen of the UDA” for her devotion to the paramilitary organization. Initially, her female regiment group was involved in local community work and delivering food and parcels to UDA/UFF prisoners as well as prepping auxiliary work. However, in more recent years the evolution of the role of paramilitary organizations in local communities meant Millar got more involved in drug dealing and gang organization. Her sons are also high-profile UDA members, which brought her deeper into internal feuds within the organization, leading her to be ordered to leave Northern Ireland at the risk of execution as a result of threats from UDA bosses. This article references Millar’s return to Northern Ireland after exile to England, and how she was very vocal in talking to the media about her conviction to stay in her home, even as attacks on her and her son’s lives continued upon her return. This article also furthers the idea of the male fear of female involvement in the conflict, socialized so much that these tensions continue past peace talks. Millar’s early work shows the lack of acting roles for females in Loyalist paramilitary groups, barring them from actively obtaining and creating groups for themselves. Even so, these groups were not given the same roles or opportunities within the conflict.
Image of the All-Female Active Service Unit of the UDA image from Associated Press Archives
This image is of the all-female Active Service Unit of the UDA. Female loyalist organization around the conflict was extremely insular, with specific groups formed by and for women to put the forward effort in creating communal comfort and protection. With small amounts of active military members being women, there was not the same level of organization of formal structures prisons, instead specific Loyalist women’s units were formed, the first, shown above, being led by Wendy Millar. Researcher Sandra McEvoy suggests that “approximately two dozen active women’s units at various times throughout the conflict with a combined membership as high as three thousand women.”Active female participation in these groups was essential, although not as prevalent, in the evolution of the conflict. These gendered divides in paramilitary groups created larger intercommunal tension as a result of social standards around who is allowed to actively fight in the conflict, and who is supposed to be working to take care of the community itself. Research suggests that women’s opinions surrounding these male-led paramilitaries hold doubts on the ways that these violent actions truly represent their communities, which emphasized the importance of groups such as this. The role of female paramilitary organizations was more than just the actions they participated in, but also the idea and standard they created as a gendered minority within the effort.
1985 Article: A Woman’s Place in the Loyalist Community by Hester Dunn
This news article, entitled “A Woman’s Place in the Loyalist Community” outlines the personal beliefs of Hester Dunn, a member of the UDA political wing, surrounding the issues of household standards and an untapped female potential. Published in Fortnight on May 27th, 1985, this magazine is known as the “North’s longest-running independent publication.” This news source was founded in the 1970s, “in the hope of making a contribution to resolving the political and security crisis in Northern Ireland,” and still publishes to this day.
Dunn states how the issues facing women in the conflict are not solely pertain to paramilitary members themselves, but are inherent to all women due to existing social standards. Beliefs on employment, housing, and childcare roles for women, furthered by Hess’s writing, place limits on the ability of women to fight in multiple forms in the conflict. He states that although encouraged by men, women have not chosen to take on an active paramilitary role. Hess furthers the idea that women are allowed and actively want to participate solely in the childcare role. as it is inherent to their nature for this to be their priority. He also further asserts the idea that women are not prepared or amenable to violence, even stating that the main concern of having women in prison is not the issues or acts they are in prison for, but that the conditions are not fit for their standards. Hess’s article shows the larger belief by men in the UDA that limited female involvement is necessary based on societal beliefs surrounding their inherent fitness as mothers and carers, and not on their ability as political actors in their own right.
Female UVF Artillery Members
This image shows female members of the UVF holding common bayonets imported by the British, its allies, and its rebels. Due to the inherent international role the British played on the world stage, even prior to the conflict, these guns have multiple international sources. These are Austro-Hungarian arms and french civil war era bayonets. Pictured here are the Mle1874 Gras and M1904 ‘Irish Mannlicher’. The UVF was the main purchaser of the Mannlicher, purchasing 11,000 starting in 1904. Images like these show females’ aptitude for artillery work during the conflict.
However, with their involvement is also coupled the standards of childcare constantly on them. These gunners, accompanied by a small boy, further present the idea of a women’s role is first to be with the children, as even in the midst of conflict they are foundational to child care and work at home. In Sarah Master’s work “Sexed Pistols. The Gendered Impacts of Small Arms and Light Weapons, Gender & Development,” she discusses how in loyalist paramilitaries, the primary responsibility of women was hiding and transporting small arms. This image also further portrays accepted social standards of women’s roles and acceptance of the sexual division of labor, along stereotypical gender lines. Paramilitary groups relied upon the broadly accepted social stereotype of women as “peaceful” meaning they were rarely subjected to the same scrutiny when traveling and moving throughout these turbulent spaces.
PROTESTS SPREADING IN PRISON IN ULSTER: Pro-British Prisoners Begin a Fast, Adding to the Tension Caused by Seven-Week-Old Strike Other Prisoners Refuse to Work Many Refuse to Wear Uniforms from the New York Times Archives
This New York Times article outlines the state of the troubles in Ireland from an American perspective, discussing the pro-British prison protests in Ulster. Published December 13, 1980, the highlighted passage discusses female involvement in UDA prison strikes. Although the number of Loyalist female prisoners was low, meaning there were no formal structures in the prisons themselves, it was still prevalent enough to obtain international media coverage (Corcoran, 2006). This article highlights the international eye that was on the conflict as these prisons brought the most attention due to the abuse and lack of distinction between prisoners of war and actual prisoners. For both groups, this was a key definition as this terminology was based on the validity of violent action in the name of the larger political conscience. Although small amounts of female presence were imprisoned, their impact was largely felt during the hunger strikes. This lack of presence can be attributed to the fact that women were not in the same violent roles that would predispose them to prison sentencing.
Modern UVF Marches image from the Belfast Telegraph
This image shows modern female Ulster Volunteer Force recreators marching in East Belfast to mark the anniversary of the 1913 founding of the organization. However, outside this image, the majority of female marchers were hundreds of women dressed as nurses from a century ago. As loyalist paramilitary organizations do not include women in their ranks, the roles of women took on differing forms from traditional paramilitary action (Ward and McGivern 1980).
Traditional conceptions of the women’s role were deeply embedded in the cause during the Troubles. Still, the ideological importance of women taking up arms and playing an active role in the fight is still long-standing, especially as over time modern feminism has been purveyed throughout the Loyalist cause. Understanding the gravity of the Loyalist cause in modern-day Northern Ireland, as well as the role that women have begun to take on in a more modern context is essential to understanding the current state of the troubles. Female investment in the conflict maintains the same voracity (Abernethy, 2021). Although not a paramilitary organization, the DUP was headed by First Minister Arlene Foster in 2020, showing a larger acceptance of female leadership by the Loyalist community (https://www.cfr.org/backgrounder/moving-past-troubles-future-northern-ireland-peace). As socialized ideas on gender have evolved in recent years, women can take on more, inherently violent, actions synonymous with Loyalist cultural traditions, such as bonfires and parades.
Republican Artifacts
Photograph of Cumann na mBan, an auxiliary wing of the IRA – From Bobbie Hanvey Photographic Archives, John J Burns Library at Boston College
A photograph of Cumann na mBan, a women’s auxiliary organization of the Irish Republican Army taken in Downpatrick on Easter Sunday, 1974. Participation in protests was a regular part of women’s role in the IRA, as they engaged in both the demand for the release of interned prisoners and the hunger strikes within prisons themselves. Other methods were also employed, the “women at Armagh Prison also carried out a dirty protest, when they refused to bathe or clean their cells, from 1980-1981” (Burns Library 2022: 3). This behavior granted the IRA numbers they would not have had barring female participation, and further legitimized Cumann na mBan as a viable avenue for achieving the core interests of the IRA. Despite resistance from some male IRA members to the ever-expanding role of women in their organization, members of Cumann na mBan insisted on equal status and eventually managed to be granted military training in the late 1960s. (Ward 1995: 258) However, this did not translate to legitimate gender equality within the organization, as other inequities were often carried out by male authority figures. The subsequent split of the IRA raised accounts of discrimination “in training and promotion” with women also combating “hostility [from] many of the men” who disapproved of the breach of conventional gender norms (Ward 1995: 259). In addition, the IRA maintained an overarching authority of the women’s auxiliary and reserved the right to confiscate funds raised by Cumann na mBan for their own desired purposes. Ward’s Unmanageable Revolutionaries: Women and Irish Nationalism recounts an incident in which Cumann na mBan was ordered to hand over funds initially raised for new uniforms to the IRA, reflective of a lack of autonomy the organization was granted despite making strides in women’s advancement. (Ward 1995)
Nationalist Poster referencing the Price Sisters (left), Dolours and Marian Price, former IRA members (right), from CAIN and the New York Times respectively
The poster on the left contrasts the violence in Belfast’s ‘The Falls’ with the relative peace in ‘Malone Road’, classified as working class and middle class respectively. (People’s Democracy, 1973) The additional text reading ‘Force Feeding is Torture’ is believed to be a reference to the Price Sisters (pictured on right), two female members of the Irish Republican Army who participated in hunger strikes, a common tactic employed by imprisoned IRA members after the relative ineffectiveness of dirty protests. The sisters were arrested for their participation in a 1973 London bombing, which resulted in imprisonment and an eventual hunger strike. (Vitello, 2013) Given the extreme distress that accompanies force-feeding, many members of the public vehemently opposed the practice and the two sisters gained notoriety for their dedication to the cause. Mass support for hunger strikers wasn’t uncommon, the case of Thomas Ashe’s death resulting from forced feeding roused a “crowd of 30,000, many armed and in uniform, [to follow] his coffin in defiance of martial law…”(Ward 1995: 125) The Price Sisters partook in a protest that was held in high regard by those in the republican community as an immense sacrifice and a sign of extreme devotion.
Sinn Fein Poster depicting Republican women, in celebration of International Women’s Day in 1982 , from CAIN
“This is not a man’s war but a people’s war, and very, very much suffering has been borne by the women, be they mothers, wives, political activists, or Volunteers, and the men ought to remember that without the sacrifice of women there would be no struggle at all”
Sinn Fein Poster (Burns Library 2022: 3)
Pictured is a Sinn Fein advertisement celebrating International Women’s Day in 1982. Sinn Fein’s status as the political wing of the Irish Republican Army obliged them to create thoughtful propaganda to support the cause. The small text in black reads “This is not a man’s war but a people’s war, and very, very much suffering has been borne by the women, be they mothers, wives, political activists, or Volunteers, and the men ought to remember that without the sacrifice of women there would be no struggle at all” (Burns Library 2022: 3). Within this text, there is an appreciation for both domestic and public roles women serve. While this does not indicate the presence of gender equality, it signifies a gesture not often replicated in Loyalist paramilitaries or politics. A reluctant acceptance of women traversing the domestic sphere seems to play out within the IRA over time, as reliance on their labor became important to undermining the powers of the Crown and Unionists. The image of a woman wielding a gun expressed the distaste for the British presence and the state of policing in Northern Ireland, and the poster itself is a celebration of women engaging in republican beliefs. (Burns Library 2022: 3) Sinn Fein had already employed gestures like these to retain republican support, such as the inclusion of a clause in their “constitution [reading]: ‘That the equality of men and women in this organization be emphasized in all speeches and pamphlets'” at their October 1917 Convention. (Ward 1995: 125)
Poster Portrayal of the Women’s Movement within the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA) from CAIN
Translated as “No Freedom, Until Freedom of Women”
The poster pictured above portrays the women’s movement within the Provisional Irish Republican Army (PIRA), as they persistently fought for equal status within the organization. As evident by their formation of auxiliary organizations and creation of women-centered advertising, republican women were empowered to regularly make demands for their own advancement, despite resistance from many male IRA members. Miranda Alison’s Women as Agents of Political Violence: Gendering Security notes, “Women involved with the IRA in the early years of the Troubles seem more likely to have experienced incidents of sexism than those in later years” (Alison 2004: 456). While this is not indicative of the elimination of patriarchal institutions, it does reflect noteworthy progress for women that is not visible in Loyalist counterpart organizations. In earlier years, “republican women were usually confined to cooking, first aid, messaging and signaling duties in support of male combatants” yet later find themselves taking up arms in pursuit of a unified Ireland. (Ruairc 2018: 36) Despite this significant shift of gender dynamics, women in the organization were always under threat of violence both from oppositional groups and men within the republican coalition. Chapter 4from Defying the IRA? : Intimidation, Coercion, and Communities During the Irish Revolution explains that outside of the dangerous work women always conducted within the IRA, they were also potentially subject to threat from men sharing their own political alignment. This is partially accredited to “an idealized self-image that included chivalry to women” held by Irish Nationalists, however “contributed to a more restrained approach to female defiance” (Hughes 2016: 149). Therefore, while the form of punishment for women accused of espionage or betrayal of the IRA typically differed from that of men, the tolerance for their noncompliance was short. (Hughes 2016)
Cumann na mBan Mural located in West Belfast , with specific focus on the 1916 Easter Rising , from CAIN
This mural in West Belfast commemorates women from Cumann na mBan who took part in the 1916 Easter Rising. Although at this stage women were not typically taking on the role as combatants, Ruairc’s The Women Who Died For Ireland notes that there were exceptions to this rule, such as Constance Markievicz and Margaret Skinnider. (Ruairc 2018) Pictured on the right are depictions of Winifred Carney and N Connolly with the writing “They stand for the honor of Ireland, As their sisters in days that are gone, And they’ll march with their brothers to freedom.” Despite the rare instances of women’s participation in this particular event, their role was not trivial. Ward elaborates that “As the majority of the population had no idea why the Rising had taken place, their priority was to gain the support of the people,” and thus “this vital work of propaganda was largely undertaken by women” (Ward 1995: 120). This propaganda took many forms, including memorial services for the dead, working towards the freeing of interned prisoners, and building international relationships. (Ward 1995) The importance of propaganda for garnering support was crucial, especially as violent incidents result in subsequent anger from the public. These contributions proved invaluable, despite the lack of women engaging in combat at this point.
Cumann na mBan Mural located in West Belfast from CAIN
‘Carol’ interview by Miranda Alison, Belfast, April 2003
“I seen the same women who were struggling, who were demanding equality within every aspect of their life – and they got it within the movement, but they got it because they fought for it, not because it was the right thing to do.”
Pictured above is a mural dedicated to the memory of 6 women in the IRA, 4 of which were members of Cumann na mBan and 2 were members of Cumann na gCailini. Another mural highlighting the contributions of women within the movement is noteworthy, particularly as we evaluate the progress women made for gender equality from their participation in the IRA. Alison’s Women as Agents of Political Violence: Gendering Security draws from multiple interviews with women who experienced the organization firsthand. Although the degree of progress that was made might be disputed, there were some common sentiments that arose from Alison’s discussions. In particular, “Some ex-IRA women [Alison] interviewed felt that they experienced more gender equality in terms of treatment and opportunities within the military wing of republicanism than within the political wing” (Alison 2004: 459). In other words, the general sense of a somewhat progressive status in the IRA dissipated in the political arena, despite the integral part women played in Sinn Fein’s military wing. One of the interviewees, ‘Carol’, expressed a sense that the advancements made over the years were largely due to the efforts of women, and less because of the moral qualms men had with the oppression of women. Overall, Alison’s interviews demonstrate an ambivalence about the true nature of women’s progress via participation in the IRA, as traditional gender norms were transcended yet complete security and equality seemed to elude their grasp.
‘Mairead’ interview by Miranda Alison, Belfast, May 2003
“I’m not going to say there isn’t people with sexist views in the movement, there is. But it was in a different part of the movement that I experienced sexism.”
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Modern Western conceptions of childhood rely on the notion that the child is distinctly different from the adult; typical coming of age stories introduce individuals that transition from pure, dependent children into enlightened and independent adults, positing innocence as a key marker of childhood (Brocklehurst 2006). But in regions of conflict, such as Northern Ireland, where violence is as present as play in the lives of children, young people threaten traditional understandings of the child. As external actors attempt to reconcile these discrepancies, two competing narratives of the child in conflict emerge—that of the helpless victim or the war-provoked militant. This exhibit will examine the limitations of these essentialist constructions, and how they compare to the real experiences of the children of the Troubles.
The notion of the “innocent victim” emerges in many combat zones, as Western media sources latch on to perceived ideas of purity. In the case of Northern Ireland, the children of the Troubles were, and still are, sensationalized by news sources. Throughout the conflict, television outlets and on-site photographers captured footage of Northern Ireland’s children, showing them playing on deserted streets, or walking past heavily armed soldiers (Newby 2021). As childhood was juxtaposed with the violence, young people became symbols of the tragedy of the conflict– a generation of children needing to be saved. Films depicting the Northern Irish youth similarly capitalized on images of war, constructing the child in conflict as a powerless victim (Newby 2018).
But in conjunction with this depiction, a competing narrative also began to emerge; that of the radicalized combatant. As newspaper articles picked up on stories of adolescent violence, and photographers captured images of teens throwing stones, the public began to see the youth of Northern Ireland as traumatized and unstable (Cairns 1987). The unpredictable youth thus became not only a victim of violence, but also a potential threat to social order. Heightened levels of paramilitary involvement amongst young people further stoked fears of the children-in-conflict gone rogue, blurring the lines between victim and perpetrator (Reinisch 2020).
These two imagined formations of the Northern Irish child attempt to make their struggle more visible; however, in making the symbol of innocence visible, they ultimately reduce the youth of the Troubles to that innocence, or lack thereof, effectively silencing chlidrens’ authentic experiences growing up within the conflict. In response to these narratives, the now grown up children of the Troubles are aiming to retell their stories. These newer modes of looking back at the Troubles have destabilized the victim-combatant trope of the child in conflict, suggesting that Northern Irish youth often lived in tight-knit communities, and had happy and loving childhoods. This exhibit will look at these accounts in conjunction with tropes about Northern Irish youth, examining how the child in conflict can be given agency.
Artifact #1: Nationalist Mural Commemorating the Dead
Plastic Bullets Plaque and Mural. Islandbawn Street, Belfast.
This photograph, taken by Martin Melaugh, captures the Plastic Bullets Mural in Belfast. The Nationalist mural is located at the intersection of Islandbawn Street and Falls Road, in a predominantly Catholic area. Painted after 1989, it commemorates the victims of rubber and plastic bullet shootings, which were controversially used by security forces to subdue rioters.
The headline of the painting, which reads, “Since 1970 Seventeen People killed-including 8 Children, ” underscores the ways in which children came to personify the horrors of war. Children, acting as symbols of innocence, were posited as the most undeserving victims, consequently becoming metaphors for the tragedy of all lost lives.
But although the mural seeks to honor the victims of the Troubles, it also transforms them into involuntary martyrs, as they are painted onto plastic bullet caps, and are made to look friendly, approachable, and quasi-angelic. Thus, the bullet caps, which resemble candles found in Church services, serve to not only memorialize the “victims,” but to further attach a narrative to their lives.
The separation of the mural’s 8 children from the other dead, marked by a darker plastic cap commemorating Norah McCabe, emphasizes their distinctive position within the role of the victim. McCabe’s identity as the only mother among the dead is not accidental; as she stands between the lost children and the other martyrs, the viewers understand that violence has done more than just take McCabe’s life; it has also impacted the children she has left behind. Similarly, newspaper articles about McCabe’s death define her first and foremost as a mother (McConville 2021).
As the mural tells the dead’s names, and shows their faces, it attempts to make them more visible. However, it ultimately still compromises their agency. In the case of the “8 children,” the victims remain defined by their youth, becoming unconsenting vehicles to represent all of the innocent lives lost in the Troubles.
Artifact #2: “Summer of 69” Mural
“Summer of 69 Mural,” Belfast.
This loyalist mural, coined “The Summer of 69,” depicts two young protestant boys in front of a decimated street. The mural is located at Hopewell Crescent near Crumlin Road in Belfast in a predominantly Unionist area, and commemorates the riots during the summer of 1969, which marked the beginning of the Troubles. That summer almost 2,000 families had to evacuate their homes, with rioters looting properties and dumping civilians’ belongings onto the streets. These boys were likely affected by the looting, as they disappointingly stand in front of a crumbling street.
As the boys are depicted without colorl and alone, they evoke the image of displaced youth, unprotected from the destruction around them. The black spiked barbed wire and jagged pieces of broken furniture are juxtaposed with the boys’ smooth and white clothing, as they are set apart from their decayed street as symbols of life and purity. The colors of Britain, found in the flags behind them and on their drum sets, reveal a source of hope for the children amidst violence. At the same time, the flag turns them into sectarian figures, politicizing the childrens’ innocence and robbing them of their agency. Ultimately, children come to represent the purity of the Unionist cause.
Artifact #3: The Petrol Bomber Mural
“The Petrol Bomber” mural, Belfast.
“The Petrol Bomber” is a mural painted in 1994 in honor of the 25th anniversary of Battle of the Bogside. The mural is located in the Bogside neighborhood of Derry, and replicates Clive Limpkin’s iconic photograph of a little boy throwing a petrol bomb during the Bogside riots of 1969.
The boy’s mask serves both to physically protect him from the gas and to preserve his anonymity, a feature that allows him to stand in for all of Nationalist Ireland. The boy’s badge further cements his connection to the nation, as the image of the innocent child fighting back against its oppressor becomes a personification of a United Ireland.
As the mural transforms the boy into a symbol of rebirth, growth and resilience, it politicizes him in the eyes of the public. The child, who is normally seen as delicate and innocent, now becomes a combatant, which is meant to discomfort the audience and upend ideals of childhood purity. This narrative maintains the notion that youths in conflict are both undeserving receptors of violence, emphasized by the gas creeping up to the boy in the background, and perpetrators of violence, since their vulnerable position in society makes them more likely to emulate the actions of the adults around them.
Artifact #4: Headline of Youth Rioting
Youth Battle Troops in Five Cities in Northern Ireland. New York Times, 1981.
The headline “Youth Battle Troops in Five Cities in Northern Ireland” was published in a 1981 issue of the New York Times. The article outlines “youth” riots in Belfast, (London)derry and other cities following the funeral of two catholic teens who had been killed by British troops.
It consequently demonstrates the opposing public perception of the youth; on one end, the dead teens are presented as victims of war, and on the other, young rioters are constructed as threats to social order. This article is one of many that highlights adolescent violence, as teenage riots became a fixture of media coverage of the Troubles (Cairns 1987).
Public piqued interest in adolescent combatants is partially sound; in both Loyalist and Republican paramilitary groups, young people were key demographics in the recruitment process. Many times having grown up with paramilitary neighbors or relatives, adolescents were attracted to these groups, which offered a source of security and stability amidst uncertain times. Mostly male combatants found agency through recruitment, which allowed them to protect their communities and make the transition into manhood (Reinisch 2020)
But through the media, young combatants were simultaneously discredited, as their actions were abstracted by their position as children. Thus, the young militant became a fixture of public imagination, coming to represent the ultimate corruption of innocence.
Artifact #5: Photograph of Belfast Children Making Petrol Bombs
Northern Ireland. Belfast. Youth and children prepare molotov cocktails to use against British troops. 1981. (Magnum photos)
This photograph, taken by Ian Berry in 1981, portrays a group of Nationalist boys preparing Molotov cocktails to throw at British troops.
The two younger boys in the image keep their faces uncovered, while the older boys are masked to protect their identities. In this way, childhood, and the perceptions associated with childhood, serve as protectors for the young boys, allowing them to behave violently without fear of legal repercussions. As they physically risked their bodies, children were able to remain press-friendly, revealing their complicated position in the public eye.
But while the media was generally sympathetic to children, it also helped further the notion that the traumatized children of the Troubles were inherently violent. Berry was unsettled to find that his images of children gained more traction among the public than his photographs of security force violence (Genova 2008). This suggests that although violence against children was a powerful media weapon throughout the Troubles, violence caused by children was equally sensationalized. As children were lured by older boys into joining their ranks, they were seen as individuals who were vulnerable to paramilitary recruitment, and were destined to become future actors in a cycle of destruction.
Artifact #6: The End of War as an End to Childhood in “Derry Girls”
“The Agreement.” Derry Girls, created by Lisa McGee, season 3, Episode 7, Hat Trick Productions, 2022.
Lisa McGee’s sitcom “Derry Girls” tells the story of four teenage girls and a teenage boy growing up in Northern Ireland during the mid 1990s. McGee centers traditional coming-of-age themes within her narrative, creating distinct identities for the girls outside of their proximity to the Troubles, and portraying conflict as only one of many shaping influences on the girls’ journey through adolescence, a journey that is characterized by laughter, love, and a strong sense of community.
In the series finale “The Agreement,” a newly-of-age Orla, Michelle, Clare, and Erin vote on the Good Friday referendum, which marks a potential end to both the Troubles and their childhoods.
Throughout the episode, McGee highlights the protagonists’ girlhood to subvert notions of conflict-traumatized youth; Orla dresses colorfully, makes faces for her voting card picture, and remarks she has just read the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. The schoolgirls’ exaggerated reenactment of the Troubles later on in the episode, and girl-group background music like “I Know Where It’s At” further cement the Derry Girls’ youth.
But the potential end to the conflict also marks the girls’ transition from childhood into adulthood. As a montage of Derry’s citizens voting, along with footage of the conflict and children playing on a spinning wheel, plays in the background, Erin reflects that “There’s a part of me that just wishes everything could stay the same. That we could all just stay like this forever. There’s a part of me that doesn’t really want to grow up.” By complicating Erin’s perception of the Troubles’ ending, and riddling the conflict with sentiments of McGee’s own nostalgia, McGee suggests that the young people of Northern Ireland were not hopeless victims robbed of their childhoods. Instead, they were a generation bolstered by their remarkably tight-knit communities, and who were able to find joy and connection despite the landscape of conflict.
Artifact #7: Remembering Childhood in Northern Ireland in Kenneth Branagh’s “Belfast”
Belfast. Directed by Kenneth Branagh, 2021.
Kenneth Branagh’s film “Belfast” is a coming of age story about Buddy, a young boy living in Belfast at the start of the Troubles. Taking inspiration from his own life, Branagh sets the Troubles as a backdrop for the boy’s childhood, which is filled with love and curiosity, but also with sacrifice.
At the start of the scene, as Buddy works on a puzzle with his mother, grandfather and grandmother, Branagh emphasizes Buddy’s positionality as a young boy within the Troubles. Despite asking about Santa, he is aware of his family’s difficult financial situation, which was exacerbated by the start of the conflict; Branagh uses this contrast to reveal the coexistence of innocence and loss of innocence in the lives of Northern Irish youth.
Although “Belfast” focuses on the impact the Troubles have on Buddy’s life, Branagh emphasizes the moments of happiness and love that are present throughout the young boy’s childhood. When Pop talks to Buddy about his move to England, he tells him to remember, “You’re buddy, from Belfast 15. Where everybody knows you and your pop looks out for you and your mommy looks out for you and your daddy looks out for you and your granny looks out for you your brother looks out for you and the whole family looks out for you.” Despite Belfast being a place rife with violence, Pop encourages Buddy to be proud of his roots, as they are a testament to the people in his life who have supported him, and the strength of community in the face of conflict.
Buddy’s aspirations for film, as seen in his love for “Chitty Chitty bang-bang,” reveal his developing passions amongst the turmoil of the Troubles.
Artifact #8: “Guerillas” by Northern Irish Poet Seamus Deane
When the Portuguese came in
from manoeuvres in the North
Atlantic, they brought a scent
Of oranges and dark tobacco
To our Arctic streets. Norwegians,
However, were tall and cold,
Drinkers of cheap wine
That blued their eyes more
Than was good for anyone
Who bothered them. Some women
Became sailors’ dolls and others
Disapproved. We smelt corruption
In the hot grease of liquor
And foreign language that spat
Around us in ‘The Moonlight Club’.
Some pleasure writhed there
And some fear. A fight occurred
And then there came the Military
Police who hammered silence out
With night sticks, wall to wall.
And then we’d steal the drinks
Left on the tables they had pushed
Aside to clear the floor.
The whiskey was watered, we could tell,
A medical treacle had been served
As rum. But that was business.
Pollution entered everything and made it
Fierce. Real life was so impure
We savoured its poisons as forbidden
Fruit and, desolate with knowledge,
Grew beyond redemption. Teachers
Washed their hands of us.
Innocent of any specific crime,
We were beaten for a general guilt,
Regular as clockwork. We watched
And questioned nothing. There would be a time
When the foreign sailors would be gone.
Business would still be business.
Whiskey would still be watered,
Some girls would still be dolls
The Arctic would have inched nearer,
Pollution have gone deeper
And life, entirely domestic, would carry on.
Seamus Deane’s poem Guerillas outlines a scene from Deane’s childhood in Derry in the mid 1940s-1950s during the years leading up to the Troubles.
Throughout the poem Deane maintains a childlike voice, displaying both his wonder at the sight of foreign sailors, and a general understanding that the scenes around him are in some way tainting his innocence. As Deane writes “We smelt corruption in the hot grease of liquor” and later, “Real life was so impure / We savoured its poisons as forbidden / Fruit and, desolate with knowledge / Grew beyond redemption,” he rejects the notion that children are passive onlookers in a world that they don’t understand. Instead, he posits them as aware contributors of society who ultimately endure the beatings of those who wish to shield them, children who comprehend that despite corruption, “life, entirely domestic, would carry on.”
The presence of violence in Seamus’ early life, as evidenced by the actions of the Military Police, reveal the role of the conflict throughout his childhood, despite having grown up over a decade before the Troubles began. As a young Seamus coexists with the military, and even steals liquor from officers that are breaking up a bar fight, an older Seamus suggests that adolescence manifests itself similarly universally, even in regions prone to conflict.
Works Cited
Brockelhurst, Helen. 2006. Who’s Afraid of Children?: Children, Conflict and International Relations. Burlington: Ashgate Publishing Company.
Cairns, Ed. 1987. Caught in Crossfire: Children and the Northern Ireland Conflict. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press.
Derluyn, Ilse, Wouter Vandenhole, Stephan Parmentier, et al. 2015. “Victims and/or perpetrators? Towards an interdisciplinary dialogue on child soldiers.” BMC Int Health Hum Rights 15(28).
Newby, Lucy and Fearghus Roulston. 2018. “Innocent Victims and Troubled Combatants: Representations of Childhood and Adolescence in Post-conflict Northern Irish Cinema.” Pp. 23-38 in Representing Agency in Popular Culture: Children and Youth on the Screen and in Between, I. Castro and J. Clark, eds. Lanham: Lexington Books.
Newby, Lucy. 2021. “Troubled Generations? (De)Constructing Narratives of Youth Experience in the Northern Ireland Conflict.” Journal of War & Culture Studies, 14(1): 6-24.
Reinisch, Dieter. 2020. “Teenagers and young adults in dissident Irish republicanism: a case study of Na Fianna Éireann in Dublin.” Critical Studies on Terrorism, 13(4): 702-723.
Tabak, Jana. 2023. “‘Children Without Childhood’: Representations of the Child-Soldier as an International Emergency.” Pp. 161-180 in The Politics of Children’s Rights and Representation: Studies in Childhood and Youth, B. Sandin, J. Josefsson, K. Hanson and S. Balagopalan, eds. Palgrave Macmillan.
The IRA, and Republicanism in Northern Ireland in general, has suffered significantly from division throughout its history. The following infographic gives a cursory overview of the various IRAs and the main dissident or violent Republican movements. In it, seventeen separate organizations and three different splits are outlined. This online exhibit will focus on the history of the Irish Republican Army following 1919, and the subsequent claimants to that throne of Irish Nationalism.
Infographic explaining the the splits in the IRA over time.
The exhibit will begin with artifacts dedicated to memorializing or paying tribute to the IRA martyrs, establishing the history which all organizations that use the name ‘IRA’ seek to claim. Following those artistic expressions— which also denigrate British and Unionist forces— the exhibit turns to the Troubles and the many break-out groups which formed during that period. The events of the Troubles as well as those which predate them are still relevant in Northern Ireland, but especially in dissident Republican circles.
Critically, these divisions are not a matter of history but of current debate. McGlinchey (2021) describes how “the New and Continuity IRAs remain wedded to an armed campaign for Irish sovereignty” while the “independent ‘dissident’ republicans, formerly in the Provisional IRA, criticize the ongoing campaign by the groups as futile” (714). The collection of artifacts and their subject matter spans the entirety of the conflict after the Irish War of Independence. This history is clearly relevant to the conflict today, as the grievances and divisions of the past are either still present or have direct counterparts that mirror previous disagreements. The final artifacts of this exhibit explore the impacts of the current existing divisions in dissident Republicanism, contextualizing that situation in the wake of the Good Friday Agreement and the end of the Troubles.
The fissures in Republicanism are integral to understanding the movement as a whole, with the cracks becoming present at the most impactful moments in the conflict. Consequently, through tracing through the many splits in Nationalism through a variety of collected artifacts, this exhibits seeks to not only help explain Irish Republicanism, but the conflict in Northern Ireland following the 1919 partition. This collection of artifacts is made up of a diverse array of source material, including a political cartoon, official government and paramilitary press releases, and a protest song. Some of the included artifacts more directly relate to the topic of IRA divisions, such as Cathal Goulding’s statement as IRA Chief of Staff immediately before the Official/Provisional split. Others, such as The Wolfe Tones’ rendition of “Come out, ye Black and Tans” demonstrate a larger characteristic of Nationalism which is used to explain a specific divide. Together, they explain the mosaic that is Republicanism following partition.
Peace Walls in Belfast, Northern Ireland have been part of the architectural landscape of the city since the beginning of the Troubles. The first was put up in 1969 and over the next 30 years, nearly 30 miles of walls could be erected through the city. During this time existing walls would also be added with a variety of materials. These walls were designed to be a temporary structure that would come down in a manner of months or a few years (Leonard and McKnight 2011). They were not. In the time since their erection, the peace walls have gone on to become major cultural markers in Northern Ireland, both for the region as a whole and for the communities they divide. They act as monuments to and reminders of the sectarian division within Belfast and Northern Ireland more broadly (Ravenscroft 2009). In doing so, rather than keeping the peace, they have provoked fear by limiting contact between the two major communities and by increasing the securitization of the political problems in Belfast.
Their role in the fabric of Belfast’s culture and political discourse cannot be understated. During the Troubles, around 70% of those killed in Belfast were killed within half a kilometer of a peace wall (Leonard and McKnight 2011). After the signing of the Good Friday agreement in 1998 the walls have come to represent the lack of progress within the region and the continued need for changes within the structures of government (Gormley-Heenan and Byrne 2012). The peace walls act as sites for artistic expression, urban decay, political protest, and in some limited cases reconciliation. Their centrality to the politics of Northern Ireland is a result of where they sit geographically. They act as the interface between majority Catholic communities and majority protestant communities and were primarily designed to limit cross-community interaction.
Contact theory hypothesizes that limited interaction between various ethnic and political groups is one potential reason for outgroup animosity. Therefore, increasing levels of contact between these varying groups through both intentional and passive contact might reduce such tensions in a divided society. The Peace Walls have done the opposite (Dixon et al. 2020). Rather than foster connections between communities, they have reinforced physically located tribes. In doing so, the walls have shaped public opinion about the other community and limited the ability to create a fully integrated society.
The peace walls have also contributed to the securitization of political issues in Northern Ireland. In many ways, they become part of the story of “the chicken and the egg.” The walls were installed to protect citizens from violence. However, in their installation, they also promoted specific ways of behaving by merely existing. In this sense, the walls are both a product of the division within the city as well as a self-reinforcing mechanism that continues the sectarian divide.
Developing a plan to remove the peace walls has been a long-standing goal of the Northern Irish Executive. Their targeted date to remove them all was 2023. It seems this plan will not come to fruition as currently, there are more peace walls active in Belfast than there were 25 years ago (Alcaraz 2023). This is the result of mixed public sentiments about the peace walls and where Northern Irish society as a whole will be going in the next few years.
In Belfast, the peace walls represent both an interesting and strange study of several aspects of peace and conflict. They have acted simultaneously as a physical barrier to violence but also as an abstract barrier to peace; promoting the separation rather than integration of the communities that surround them.
What they Look Like. What they Represent.
The image above provides a view of what a peace wall looks like. It is neither pretty nor is it inviting. In fact, it is meant to have the exact opposite effect. Designed to separate each other, they became more and more brutish as the years went on. When deemed not to have their job well enough, the government would add more walls on top of what already existed, generally becoming closer and closer to bare fencing.
In some instances, like this one, the walls extend upwards of 30 feet (Leonard and McKnight 2011). These walls would extend through backyards, streets, and parks all the while looking like something from a prison, dividing the inside from the outside. In addition to creating a clear and ominous divide between the two communities, they were also spaces that created intra-community solidarity (Ravenscroft 2009). One way this was accomplished was by utilizing them as sites for prominent murals. The Murals one would see on a daily basis would be dependent on which side of the wall they lived on. All of them in support of their own community. In the most concrete sense they say “On this side of the wall, we are family. On that side of the wall, they are the enemy. With this, the peace walls represent both a stark physical barrier between the two communities in Belfast as well as a strong rhetorical argument in favor of communal tribalism.
Reflected Lives is an interview-based Oral History done to collect attitudes and stories about the communities that the Peace Walls surround. Specifically, community members from Short Strand and Inner East were interviewed. In several chapters, the report documents how walls and the Troubles more broadly changed society and oftentimes made life difficult. Interviews occurred with those who both experienced life in Belfast before the walls were put up and young adults who were only a few years old when the Good Friday Agreement was signed.
What becomes clear in reading through the report is that the walls were not just physical. Prior to many of the peace walls going up in the 70s, rapid changes in the community dynamic occurred. What were once mixed streets soon had families selling their homes and moving towards more homogeneous neighborhoods Due to the start of the troubles, the walls were first psychological, and then physical.
Once the walls went up that division solidified. It changed the daily lives of those living in the community. The walls normalized the division of “us from them” and therefore also normalized the violence that came along with them. It was now expected that people would riot at the walls, and even try to launch things over the top of them. Both communities now had a target for their violence and their anger.
Because many who now live in these communities have not lived a life without the walls, and those that did were still children, much uncertainty exists about their removal. Some express the opinion that they want them gone, but worry that the community will descend into even more violence without them. Others are more pessimistic and want to see the walls heightened even further.
Economic Suffering Around the Peace Walls.
These two maps show an overview of where the peace walls exist in the context of Belfast as a city. The map on the left shows the specific geographical locations of the walls and the breakdown of the religious affiliation of the neighborhoods in Belfast. The map on the right details socio-economic deprivation based on seven different factors, with darker red marking a more deprived area compared to the rest of Northern Ireland.
In combination, these two maps highlight how not only do peace walls exist at the interface between communities with large majorities of their own faith but they also mainly exist in the top half of the most deprived communities within Northern Ireland (NIMDM17- Results 2017). Lower socio-economic status can lead to feelings of being left behind. This can materialize in an increased likelihood to join more militant or extremist groups (Smith 2018). Therefore, the lack of socio-economic opportunities for people within the communities that the peace walls divide might in part explain why they have been flashpoints of violence.
The presence of the peace walls can further contribute to this economic deprivation. They limit trade and commerce between neighboring communities. They can also limit external investment due to negative perceptions of the communities around the walls being “unsafe.” These negative perceptions only exacerbate social inequality seen around the walls.
The Economic Incentives the Walls Provide.
Post troubles Northern Ireland has been punctuated by a period of increased economic activity, especially tourism. The above image is a screenshot of different private tours that a tourist can go on throughout Belfast. While not explicitly just about the Peace Walls most of these tours have some focus on the Peace Walls during the trip.
The commodification of the peace walls can create perverse incentives for citizens and communities they border, and of the city more broadly, to support their removal. Because they encourage economic activity and growth, the walls provide an avenue to bring money to the communities they surround. As these communities are historically and currently underserved this revenue may be vital sources of income for some community members. Deconstructing the walls would limit this source of income and thus leave some in the communities worse off.
So while it might be to the benefit of the broader Northern Irish community to take down the walls, the walls themselves have created an economic landscape that leads some to push for their continued existence (Brunn et al. 2010). Likewise, these tours can force the past into the present, leading those involved in economic activity surrounding the walls to relive the troubles. Again, making sectarian identities and history more salient than in a world without walls.
Youth, History, and Nothing to Do.
This clip discusses the role of the peace walls in the way young adults behave and act. Interviews with community leaders trying to reintegrate the areas around the walls discuss trends that they see in the younger generations who live near the walls. They Discuss how rioting and protesting have been ingrained in community culture for decades. As such when young adults are bored and do not have anything to keep them occupied, such as during the summer, they turn to throwing things over the walls or making petrol bombs.
While not explicitly addressed in the clip, there is also an economic component to this behavior when idle. As noted above, the communities surrounding the walls are of lower socio-economic status. Therefore, parents are likely to be less engaged in their child’s life. Families simply don’t have the money to send their children to day camps, sports camps, or be home when they are to keep them occupied.
In an interview with one young adult, identifies family life as one of the main causes of out-group animosity, “it’s just the way I’ve been brought up.” This is why even for younger generations the divisions the peace walls create are so hard to shake. As a child in one community, you hear stories about the violence and the wrongs that have been done to your brothers and sisters and because of the walls, you probably have never had more than a passing conversation with someone from the other community. Therefore there are no counterpoints to the stories and stereotypes you grow up listening to. The peace walls and the insular communities they create necessitate the transfer of biased intergenerational knowledge.
The Peace Walls in Belfast have split public sentiment on what they represent and how to best solve continued conflict in the city. Through writings, poems, art, and conversation citizens have taken to artistic forms of expression to explain their points of view. Taking a markedly negative view of the peace walls, this Piece entitled “The Interface: Peace Walls, Belfast, Northern Ireland” by James O’Leary centralizes one of many opinions surrounding them. It should be noted that general popular sentiment is much more mixed, with many believing that the peace walls are still necessary to this day (Gormley-Heenan and Byrne 2012).
The piece discusses the emotion, the oddity, and the fear that the peace walls elicit. It highlights how intrusive and controlling they are. Even more, this poem discusses how much of a cultural staple the peace walls are. It describes the murals that adorn them and how they have been institutionalized in law and regulation. Referring to the peace walls as interfaces, the piece alludes to the walls being a primary point of contact, or lack of contact, between the Catholic and Protestant communities. The use of the word “interface” also elicits a sense of friction between the two communities. The walls, therefore, become a point of tension, heat, and anxiety within Northern Irish society.
While generally negative, there are glimmers of hope within the author’s views. He presents a picture of the peace walls being “ a discussion regarding the optimal conditions for contact” (O’Leary 2017, 143). Because for as much harm as they have done to the material and cultural landscape of Belfast, changing the scope of the walls, or their removal entirely, is one potential avenue that contact can easily be increased and society can continue its healing.
Contemporary Security Issues at the Walls.
This news clip produced by BBC interviews several different families who live next to, or very close to the peace walls in 2021. In the video, they discuss their thoughts and opinions about the peace walls and generally express anxiety about the security situation surrounding the walls.
The clip was produced in response to major protests that occurred along the walls, which highlights how the walls are still major sites for protests and marches to this day. Overall, opinions about the peace walls are mixed. On the one hand, their support for them has declined over time, and on the other, those closest to them still believe they are important in keeping the peace (Dixon et al. 2020). They have become so ingrained in the history and culture of communities that nearly 25 years on from the Good Friday Agreement that most of the walls throughout Belfast are still up.
With rising tensions in Northern Ireland surrounding Brexit and the lack of a functioning regional government, protests may become more frequent. If this is the case, then peace walls will act as a primary point of tension in the city as they have in the past.
Because the walls act as physical demarcations of sectarian identity, protesting around them brings salience to a conflict that is now in its fifth decade. The walls have therefore acted as another point of gathering for protest in addition to the traditional city centers that usually draw large crowds of protesters. Thus contributing to the lack of normalized of politics in Northern Ireland.
Removing Barriers and Healing the Divide.
The Belfast Interface Project is a civil society group within Belfast aiming to build cross-community understanding and facilitate dialogue in the communities around the peace walls. They operate in a constellation of other similar organizations throughout Northern Ireland aiming to increase contact between the Catholic community and the Protestant community.
Their work aims to bridge the divide between communities that the peace walls divide. Creating a shared narrative of why the walls went up, what they have done to community, and what a possible future without the walls all are important aspects of this process. One of the projects they undertook to help do so was the Reflected Lives Oral History seen above. This along with other creative projects might be one main avenue to healing the divisions the peace walls enforce.
The Interface Project makes clear that the continued presence of the walls is a symptom of broader and more systemic community distrust. Likewise, the mere existence of their organization represents how sticky the attitudes and issues are around the peace walls. Work needs to continuously be done to build bridges between interface communities. Through concerted efforts of those both in and outside of the community, progress can be made.
Works Consulted.
O’Leary, James. 2017. “The Interface: Peace Walls, Belfast, Northern Ireland.” Footprint Delft Architecture Theory Journal (19): 137–44.
Alcaraz, Teresa García. 2023. “Belfast Has More Peace Walls Now than 25 Years Ago – Removing Them Will Be a Complex Challenge.” The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/belfast-has-more-peace-walls-now-than-25-years-ago-removing-them-will-be-a-complex-challenge-203975 (May 29, 2023).
BBC News NI. 2021. “Cages around Houses: Life at Belfast’s Peace Wall.” YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vcD4mG7YO_8 (May 31, 2023).
Brunn, Stanley D., Sarah Byrne, Louise McNamara, and Annette Egan. 2010. “Belfast Landscapes: From Religious Schism to Conflict Tourism.” Focus on Geography 53(3): 81–91.
Dixon, John et al. 2020. “‘When the Walls Come Tumbling down’: The Role of Intergroup Proximity, Threat, and Contact in Shaping Attitudes towards the Removal of Northern Ireland’s Peace Walls.” British Journal of Social Psychology 59(4): 922–44.
Gormley-Heenan, Cathy, and Jonny Byrne. 2012. “The Problem with Northern Ireland’s Peace Walls.” Political Insight 3(3): 4–7.
Leonard, Madeleine, and Martina McKnight. 2011. “Bringing down the Walls: Young People’s Perspectives on Peace‐walls in Belfast.” International Journal of Sociology and Social Policy 31(9/10): 569–82.
“NIMDM17- Results.” 2017. Northern Ireland Statistics and Research Agency. https://www.nisra.gov.uk/publications/nimdm17-results (May 30, 2023).
Pulitzer Center. 2009. “In Focus Northern Ireland: In the Shadow of the Walls.” YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PkjqS-GtiT4 (May 31, 2023).
Ravenscroft, Emily. 2009. “The Meaning of the Peacelines of Belfast.” Peace Review 21(2): 213–21.
Smith, Allison. 2018. “Risk Factors and Indicators Associated With Radicalization to Terrorism in the United States: What Research Sponsored by the National Institute of Justice Tells Us Whitepaper.” U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Justice Programs, National Institute of Justice.“Vision, Mission, Aims & Values.” Belfast Interface Project. https://www.belfastinterfaceproject.org/vision-mission-aims-values (May 31, 2023).