9.12.04
Guardian
Belfast sighs as peace deal slips away again
Talk on the streets is still partisan, but sense of political detachment grows
Owen Bowcott in Belfast
Thursday December 9, 2004
The Guardian
Plastic Father Christmases may festoon Belfast's many lampposts, but there was little sign yesterday of the season of goodwill. News of the peace process faltering yet again surprised few, and reinforced a sense of political detachment.
On the Belmont Road in east Belfast supporters of the Democratic Unionist party backed the insistence the IRA provide photographic proof of decommissioning.
"It's all gone on for too long," said William McMahon, manager of the Stormont Inn. "At the end of it all, we need peace. But the Rev Ian Paisley is right. Those pictures are important, especially where the IRA is concerned. You remember your man [referring to Gerry Adams] saying that they haven't gone away."
Belfast's centre, where cafes, bars and restaurants thrive, is visible proof of the transformation of Northern Ireland. That success has ensured that any prospect of a return to paramilitary violence seems increasingly improbable. After 30 years of violence the sense of relief cements a cross-community consensus that the pursuit of politics should replace murder.
But though the economy is changing rapidly, the cranes of Harland and Wolff are still an overbearing presence in east Belfast. Twenty thousand men once worked there, now its down to 200.
"To me, it's exactly the same as it was years back," said Margaret Johnson, who normally votes for David Trimble's Ulster Unionist party."We have to have some evidence. We have seen this exercise before. On one occasion it was a couple of rifles disposed of, and we took their word for it. Maybe the whole public needs to go and watch the arms being destroyed."
Another shopper expressed dismay. "I'm so switched off about it I don't even watch the news any more," said George Roberts, a retired transport manager.
"We have got peace, and it's happy days. I'm so fed up with the politicians. But you do need to see proof of the guns being blown up. I wouldn't take the IRA's word for it. What those people have been involved in for 30 years ... I wouldn't trust them. Pictures would be fine."
A war memorial, prominent in black marble, stands next to the UUP offices in Belmont Road, a role call of those Protestants and Unionists who gave their lives for King and Country in world war one. "Pass not this stone in sorrow but in pride," the inscription reads, "And may you live as nobly as they died."
The weight of history bears down heavily on east Belfast. For some people, however, the world has moved on. "They are still fighting those old party politics," said Jim Agnew, originally from the South. "Gerry Adams and Ian Paisley represent such a small minority of opinion. The Republican movement has moved so far in such a relatively short space of time, some credit should be given.
"It should be enough for the officials in the decommissioning commission to authorise the disposal of weapons. There should be some trust. I don't want to carry on living in the 18th century."
Another woman, who declined to give her name but said she was a UUP voter, expressed dismay. "I think the IRA are being humiliated," she said. "We don't need photos to prove it. It's time to move on."
Less than a mile away, in the staunchly Republican Short Strand, on the east bank of the Lagan, the mood was unforgiving. Mr Paisley and his talk of the IRA needing to wear "sackcloth and ashes" had stirred up sectarian differences, the resident said. "It's just Paisley trying to humiliate us," insisted a local man who would not be identified.
"It's just Paisley wanting to be the lord of Northern Ireland. The Devil always looks after his own. That's why he is still alive. What do pictures prove anyway? They can always be doctored."
Opposite, the almost deserted Mount Pottinger police station still bristles with radio antennae. On a gable end a mural depicting British troops leaving the province is fading. Outside the Sinn Fein office a black plaque commemorates IRA volunteers killed as long ago as the 1916 uprising. The inscription reads: "And all others who died as a result of British occupation of our country."
Tethering an inflatable Santa Clause in her front garden, a local woman declared: "I don't care. It's so boring now. The IRA have done well, but I don't think they should give them the pictures."
A couple of window cleaners nearby thought the IRA had given too much. "I think Sinn Fein has moved too far too fast," said one of them. "I've got friends on both sides of the divide but I still think you have to keep a few weapons. The Republicans are bending over too far."
Across the river, on the waterfront where high rise buildings mark regeneration under the peace process, there was gloom that the deal had not been done. "I just wish they could have made an agreement," a woman shopper shrugged. "In an ideal world, I suppose, they would have compromised." But, even for her, compromise seems far fetched.
Belfast sighs as peace deal slips away again
Talk on the streets is still partisan, but sense of political detachment grows
Owen Bowcott in Belfast
Thursday December 9, 2004
The Guardian
Plastic Father Christmases may festoon Belfast's many lampposts, but there was little sign yesterday of the season of goodwill. News of the peace process faltering yet again surprised few, and reinforced a sense of political detachment.
On the Belmont Road in east Belfast supporters of the Democratic Unionist party backed the insistence the IRA provide photographic proof of decommissioning.
"It's all gone on for too long," said William McMahon, manager of the Stormont Inn. "At the end of it all, we need peace. But the Rev Ian Paisley is right. Those pictures are important, especially where the IRA is concerned. You remember your man [referring to Gerry Adams] saying that they haven't gone away."
Belfast's centre, where cafes, bars and restaurants thrive, is visible proof of the transformation of Northern Ireland. That success has ensured that any prospect of a return to paramilitary violence seems increasingly improbable. After 30 years of violence the sense of relief cements a cross-community consensus that the pursuit of politics should replace murder.
But though the economy is changing rapidly, the cranes of Harland and Wolff are still an overbearing presence in east Belfast. Twenty thousand men once worked there, now its down to 200.
"To me, it's exactly the same as it was years back," said Margaret Johnson, who normally votes for David Trimble's Ulster Unionist party."We have to have some evidence. We have seen this exercise before. On one occasion it was a couple of rifles disposed of, and we took their word for it. Maybe the whole public needs to go and watch the arms being destroyed."
Another shopper expressed dismay. "I'm so switched off about it I don't even watch the news any more," said George Roberts, a retired transport manager.
"We have got peace, and it's happy days. I'm so fed up with the politicians. But you do need to see proof of the guns being blown up. I wouldn't take the IRA's word for it. What those people have been involved in for 30 years ... I wouldn't trust them. Pictures would be fine."
A war memorial, prominent in black marble, stands next to the UUP offices in Belmont Road, a role call of those Protestants and Unionists who gave their lives for King and Country in world war one. "Pass not this stone in sorrow but in pride," the inscription reads, "And may you live as nobly as they died."
The weight of history bears down heavily on east Belfast. For some people, however, the world has moved on. "They are still fighting those old party politics," said Jim Agnew, originally from the South. "Gerry Adams and Ian Paisley represent such a small minority of opinion. The Republican movement has moved so far in such a relatively short space of time, some credit should be given.
"It should be enough for the officials in the decommissioning commission to authorise the disposal of weapons. There should be some trust. I don't want to carry on living in the 18th century."
Another woman, who declined to give her name but said she was a UUP voter, expressed dismay. "I think the IRA are being humiliated," she said. "We don't need photos to prove it. It's time to move on."
Less than a mile away, in the staunchly Republican Short Strand, on the east bank of the Lagan, the mood was unforgiving. Mr Paisley and his talk of the IRA needing to wear "sackcloth and ashes" had stirred up sectarian differences, the resident said. "It's just Paisley trying to humiliate us," insisted a local man who would not be identified.
"It's just Paisley wanting to be the lord of Northern Ireland. The Devil always looks after his own. That's why he is still alive. What do pictures prove anyway? They can always be doctored."
Opposite, the almost deserted Mount Pottinger police station still bristles with radio antennae. On a gable end a mural depicting British troops leaving the province is fading. Outside the Sinn Fein office a black plaque commemorates IRA volunteers killed as long ago as the 1916 uprising. The inscription reads: "And all others who died as a result of British occupation of our country."
Tethering an inflatable Santa Clause in her front garden, a local woman declared: "I don't care. It's so boring now. The IRA have done well, but I don't think they should give them the pictures."
A couple of window cleaners nearby thought the IRA had given too much. "I think Sinn Fein has moved too far too fast," said one of them. "I've got friends on both sides of the divide but I still think you have to keep a few weapons. The Republicans are bending over too far."
Across the river, on the waterfront where high rise buildings mark regeneration under the peace process, there was gloom that the deal had not been done. "I just wish they could have made an agreement," a woman shopper shrugged. "In an ideal world, I suppose, they would have compromised." But, even for her, compromise seems far fetched.
