As I’ve said before, nothing is as it seems in Ireland. I often sense something unsaid between Irish people, something tacitly understood and politely taboo. This unfamiliarity with local convention would be true if I moved anywhere outside the US, or even out of California.
But when it comes to The North, the unsaid-ness is stronger, like a sub-audible hum. I’m not the only one who is uncomfortable with The North. According to a recent survey there are few cross-border friendships.
Most people in the South have no friends or relations in Northern Ireland, have not crossed the Border in the past five years, have not taken an overnight trip there. The North has more contact with the South than vice versa, but not a whole heap more. The island is not just home to two political entities – there is a separation between the two societies that is clear from the data.
Only in The North do people say “The South.”
The survey also found:
Perhaps not surprisingly, they found that people from a Catholic background in Northern Ireland were more likely to have strong cross-Border connections, and Catholics with such connections were more likely to be in favour of Irish unity. This correlation is much weaker for people from a Protestant background, suggesting that for many people from that community having good relations with the South is compatible with opposition to Irish unity.
“Not surprisingly” if you know people on another side of a wall, you feel more like doing stuff with them, and if you don’t know them, you defend the “good fences make good neighbors” position. Fences do make good neighbors, and they also define enemies. Both are true, which seems to be the key to understanding all Irish mysteries.
If you would like a 20 minute summary of Ireland, The Border, The Troubles, The Brexit, and The Northern Ireland Protocol, you can watch this. For an American, the youtuber gets most of it right; though he does fail to mention that a majority of Northern Irish people voted against Brexit.
Last week I needed to go to IKEA for a few kitchen things, and the nearest one is in Belfast. My neighbor also wanted to go, so we made a little holiday of it. She would visit friends, and I would see the sights, as this was my first opportunity since moving here.
I sometimes get asked about the future unification of Ireland. I say Ireland is already united in its effort to charge Yanks too much for breakfast.
Irish people are also united in support for Health Care strikers.
And agree that the rent is too high.
So I think Irish unity is just as possible as the Irish Times fears.
Since this was my first tour of Belfast, I chose a bus tour, rather than a sectarian Black Cab tour. I felt some anxiety as the tour began, the kind of feeling you might have on a jaunty tour of a house where someone was murdered by a relative. I was thankful for the anonymity of a bus, and relieved to first see Belfast from a perspective where everyone agrees to hate English football clubs. The driver’s humor was unspeakably bad, and put everyone at ease.
The tour started at the docks, where the Titanic was constructed. As they say, “She was alright when she left here.” The Titanic museum was closed, so that’s for next time. Also for next time is the Ulster Museum, the Botanic Garden, and nighttime music scene and weekend George’s Market. The Crown Bar is a pub so awesome it’s operated by the National Trust. (Too bad the MAH in Santa Cruz couldn’t save the Poet and Patriot.)
Then we drove to The Walls.
I did not want to see The Walls. I thought the walls were taken down after the Good Friday Agreement. Everyone agreed in 2013 that they would be down by 2023. They haven’t yet begun.
I think I heard the driver say The Walls divide neighborhoods from the urban center to the west for 13 miles—all the way to the mountains. I don’t even want to try to look that up. The walls, like low-key political violence everywhere, signify the victory of smug fence builders who consider themselves good neighbors but can’t remember your name.
Although you can drive down streets divided by walls, the gates shut for twelve hours every night.
The wall route is a canvas for political art, and our driver pointed out the tone shift as you cross from one community to the other.
History LessonMaurice Mullen
A Dutchman called Prince William,
and an Englishman — King James,
fell out and started feuding,
and called each other names.
Twas for the throne of England,
but for reasons not quite clear,
they came across to Ireland,
to do their fighting here.
They had Sarsfield, they had Schomberg,
they had horse and foot and guns,
and they landed up at Carrick,
with a thousand Lambeg drums . . .
They had lots of Dutch and Frenchmen,
and battalions and platoons,
of Russians and of Prussians,
and Bulgarian dragoons,
And they politely asked the Irish
if they'd kindly like to join.
and the whole affair was settled,
at the Battle of the Boyne.
Then William went to London,
and James went off to France,
and the whole Kibosh left Ireland,
without a backward glance.
And the poor abandoned Irish,
said "goodbye" to King and Prince,
and went on with the Fighting,
and we've been at it ever since.
Political partitions are a disaster at every level, everywhere, every time. We can live with “ourselves alone,” (sinn fein) and be good neighbors too, all without political borders, enjoying the messy imperfect compromises of democracy. Whenever I hear “good fences make good neighbors” I remember “Mending Walls” by Robert Frost.
Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't itWhere there are cows? But here there are no cows.Before I built a wall I'd ask to knowWhat I was walling in or walling out,And to whom I was like to give offense.
After the tour, I walked to the Cathedral Quarter to see someone I know. I wrote about her here. The bus driver had encouraged us to walk in that direction and to tour Protestant St. Anne’s. He didn’t mention the nearby Catholic St Patrick’s. Is that an example of something unsaid? Or is it that his company sells a £10 tour of St. Anne’s and Catholic St. Patrick’s is free? Perhaps both.
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