A Gobshite Chats About The Twelfth of July

July 12th is yet another insane manifestation of the madness of Northern Ireland’s twisted relationship with history, politics and religion. Today, I’m airing my thoughts. My tongue is very firmly in my cheek, noobs are welcome and please don’t kill me.

Greetings, friends, from Belfast. My home city! You may have heard of Belfast before, we’re quite the noisy little place. Yes, we’re the land of George Best, Van Morrison, James Nesbitt, Jamie Dornan and Liam Neeson.* We’re the land of the Giant’s Causeway (have we mentioned that? We’re known for never ever really going on about it, or you know, hinging the tourism industry of the entire country on it), the land where Game of Thrones is set and the land where a gay cake can cause national uproar. (Personally speaking, I was devastated to hear about Northern Ireland’s intolerance to gay cakes, because gay cake is without doubt, my favourite flavour. 🌈 )

I’m writing to you from my bedroom, where I will be holed up for most of the day. Not because it’s bad weather, no sir — unfortunately, it’s quite pleasant today. No, I will be hidden in my house today because it is the twelfth of July, a day when the Orangemen of Ulster take to the streets, marching to remember Prince William of Orange’s victory over King James II at the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. He must have been some craic, big Prince Billy, as these marches are so heatedly fought over, year…after year…after year, and yet, they resolutely continue to happen. But why, I hear you non-Northern Irish natives ask, would I stay at home, and miss parades? Parades are fun! Parades have music and colour and happiness and at some point, dirty food trucks with hot meat and sweaty bread buns. Who on earth would want to miss that? You’re absolutely right. I’ve been to parades all over the world, and I love parades. But alas, dear reader, these parades are a bit different. These parades are loved as much as they are hated, tolerated by a few and feared by many.

You might have heard, over the years, that there’s been a wee bit of trouble in paradise, over here in Northern Ireland. Sadly, I must confess the rumours are true. Sure, when you come by for a wee BBQ, or a cheeky weekend visit, we can put on a smiling face and get on with things**. But, like a lot of toxic relationships, once the eyes of the world aren’t directly on us, we’ll get torn into each other. From living away, I’ve realised that the Northern Irish conflict is, at best, understood fleetingly by foreigners. In sympathetic tones, people will speak quietly to me about it, but, like anyone who doesn’t really want to get too involved, they will never go into detail. At worst, I have had brash people ask me, upon first meeting “Oh, NORTHERN Ireland? So, wait, are you Protestant or Catholic?!” Because, friends, in our reductive world where everything is boiled down to its minimum viable product, the Northern Irish conflict is nothing more than Protestants vs Catholics.

So. Here we go. Deep breaths, everyone.

This isn’t entirely wrong. Throughout the history of Northern Ireland, there have been two main communities. The Protestants, who traditionally were a-ok with British rule and wished to remain a part of the United Kingdom, and the Catholics, who traditionally wanted a united Ireland, and resented British rule, seeing it as an occupation. These political opinions however, are not really anything to do with the religion per sé, they just happened to fall along the religious lines as well. You may have also heard terms like “Unionist” and “Nationalist” bandied about. This, I’d venture, is a much more accurate way to describe the political divide in Northern Ireland, not least because they are, well, the political terms. A Unionist wishes to remain part of the United Kingdom, or ‘part of the Union’, and a Nationalist wishes to rejoin Ireland, or has nationalistic feelings to the land of Ireland.

The Orangemen, who march on the twelfth of July, are Unionists. They belong to the Orange Order, a Masonic-style brotherhood sworn to maintain the Protestant Ascendancy — or, in other terms, defending Protestant civil and religious liberties. It does not accept non-Protestant members, or Protestants who are married to Catholics. Unsurprisingly, it is criticised for being sectarian, triumphalist and supremacists. (I’ll not get into the sexist part of it, cause, really, I’ve not got all day. No, wait, I do, I’m trapped in my house…) It has been linked with loyalist paramilitary groups. And, on the twelfth of July, they do not only march to assert their heritage, but they march primarily through Nationalist and Catholic areas of Northern Ireland. Unsurprisingly, this is a bit antagonistic. Wait… “a bit antagonistic”? That is diplomatic. It’s more than antagonistic. These marches are essentially a huge piss up a wall — marking territory against the enemy. Unsurprisingly, they are intimidating, violence-inducing and I can confidently say, not loved by the majority of people on either side of the community.

Why the hell are they allowed to happen then?

Northern Ireland is currently “at peace”. This wobbly peace was not achieved through compromise and coming together, but instead through a complete division and cleavage of everything. Political parties are (not entirely, but mostly) divided down sectarian lines. People here can hold either an Irish or British passport. Even BBC Northern Ireland has to make sure that equal time is given to Ulster-Scots programmes as to Irish programmes. That understood, these parades are considered a cultural heritage of the Unionist side of things and as such, must be protected. Sure, they incite violence and intimidation, but if they were to be taken away, it would be a breach of civil liberty.

Now lads, don’t for a second get me wrong here. I am all for defending culture and tradition. However, just because something has been done for a long time does not necessarily make it traditional. Men have been scratching their balls since the dawn of time — that’s not cultural or traditional, unless I’ve just always had the wrong boyfriends. Wait, I’m being facetious. Please ignore that comment.

Once upon a time in the American South, lynchings were common. The KKK was a stronghold and intimidated and killed black people. They also would have excluded membership based on the colour of your skin, (rather than the religious community you or your wife belonged to). This comparison is stark, and I don’t think the Orangemen are like the KKK, but… there is a comparison there. The traditions of one, elitist and exclusive group, are damaging and destructive to another. There’s no doubt in my mind that an organisation that excludes people on grounds of religion or colour of skin isn’t necessarily a good culture to hold on to.

Goddamnit. I’m going to have to say something about myself, aren’t I? The thing is, as I mentioned before, is that every time a brash person from some other country would loudly ask me if I was Protestant or Catholic, I would answer coldly, “I’m an atheist.” That’s 100% true.*** However, this would alway be met with a knowing wink (as my coldness would drop to Arctic levels), “Ah come on Cat, you know what I mean. You have to be one or the other, are you a Protestant or a Catholic?” For the sake of this article, I feel it is (unfortunately) relevant for me to include this. I was raised in a Protestant environment. I know my grandad would be spinning in his grave if he knew I was writing what I am writing today. He loved the Parades, he took me to some. I don’t remember them, but you know — he loved me and he loved the Parades, no biggie.

Why is this relevant? Because I represent a new demographic. I am from a traditionally Unionist community, and yet, I reject these parades. I am without religion, yet this country forces it to be part of my identity. Even with my unwanted religious label, I do not conform to these ‘traditional’ political divides. I’ve never really cared one way or another (instead focussing all my efforts on getting out of the country) but now that I am back, and especially post-Brexit, I could only describe myself as a veering away from my apathetic central position and more towards Nationalism. I’m no card-carrying member of any political party here, but I’m certainly interested in articles like this, which outline that Ireland as a unified economic entity, (not even politically lads, so calm down) might stand a better chance overall.

Can I also sadly express that even as I type this, I feel anxiety about being so honest about my political feelings in Northern Ireland? I feel scared because it is still dangerous to express, in my case, such a counter-opinion to what is considered expected from a young woman in the “Protestant” community (atheist!). This in turn makes me sad, because we’re supposed to live in a democratic Western society, and no one should be afraid to express their opinion. I have never ever done anything political one way or another in this country (100% — never voted, which I know is bad, but the political roundabout nature of this country inspired me to apathy sadly), and still, to express a small opinion makes me question my safety.

ANYWAY — why did I have to mention myself? Because I am not alone in this new demographic, and am living evidence of this rejection of “tradition”. How do I know I am not alone? Because I have eyes and ears. I see hoards of my Protestant, Catholic, Nationalist, Unionist and atheist friends bulk buying groceries to hide at home, or jumping into their cars to drive out of the country for the next few days. Tradition does not always have a place. If I am nervous about expressing political beliefs, I am in no way nervous to express that I resent and utterly reject anything which inhibits the freedom of another, causes intimidation to another or incites violence in any way. These marches do these things. I do want to understand the need to have them, and I don’t want to outright dismiss them. But I cannot understand the necessity to be so abrasive with these actions, to be so defensive, so aggressive and so exclusive.

Like the wobbly peace of Northern Ireland, I don’t think the answer is in splitting everything. I don’t believe that if one side gets something, so should the other. Instead, to bring about a more stable peace, and a more comfortable populace, surely, surely there has to be a middle ground? Taking away something people care about isn’t the answer. Still, neither is squashing another person’s personal liberties. I love my countrymen, all of them. I know unionists, nationalists, protestants, catholics, apathetic sweethearts, expats, inpats, shake-it-all-about-pats, freedom fighters, terrorists, politicians, hypocritical religious fanatics, straight-up religious angels and have encountered a criminal bad boy in a new guise from time to time. And for all of them, I can say, they are weirdly enough good people at heart. I know we can get through this, somehow. I don’t know when or how, but we just HAVE to.

This got a little intense, so let me end with The Simpsons, who tried to weigh in. (Unsuccessfully I might add — even in animation, we’re complex.)

(Footnotes after the video)

FOOTNOTES

*I’d safely wager none of these lads is particularly happy with the company they are keeping on that list. It’s definitely a list of famous and infamous Northern Irish men, but for fear of lawsuits, I’ll keep my gob shut.

** This seems like a flippant, poorly-constructed metaphor. I’ll grant you the “poorly-constructed”, but it isn’t flippantly said. Like a rotting marriage, Northern Ireland can put a good face on things in public and has a reputation for being very good to tourists. The second safest place in world for tourists, after Tokyo, apparently. This might be true — we won’t mess with you cause we’re too busy fighting amongst ourselves. But Good Lord! This statistic seems insane. They clearly weren’t gathering data from the past 40 years then, when bombings, kidnappings, murders and in general, sectarian violence decimated communities, drove divides down the country and sadly created a violent, scary narrative that we are world renowned for. That narrative, by the way, isn’t the Northern Ireland which I love, (which is full of good natured banter, warm welcomes wherever you go and friendliness in such abundance you could be forgiven for thinking you were being mistaken for an old friend). No, sadly this reputation was the work of the few, which affected the many.

*** As I pointed out to my Mum, Northern Ireland managed to do the opposite of Christianity to me. Most Christians want to win non-believers over, and save them. I, on the other hand, was raised in a Christian environment, but the actions of hatred, bigotry and intolerance which permeated the society around me, widely held as one of the most staunchly religious places on Earth, turned me away from religion, utterly.