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!970s Northern Ireland, forgiveness, Martin McGuinness, Paisley, Sinn Fein, The Good Friday Agreement, The Troubles, The Wayside Halt, Ulster Workers Strike
I suppose if you live long enough, almost nine decades, all is eventually forgiven. At least that’s what the obituaries for Rev. Ian Paisley suggest. Like many of us, I was raised to observe the “de mortuis nil nisi bonum” credo, to speak no ill of the dead, but in the days since Ian Paisley’s passing, I have grown increasingly vexed over the glowing online obituaries, the over-the-top eulogizing of a man, who from the year of my birth until the year I left Northern Ireland, railed against the Catholic church, spewing hate and bigotry – brilliantly – and inciting countless followers to violence.
I did not know Ian Paisley as a father and a husband. I know nothing of the way he conducted his private life. I empathize with his grieving family and friends – he was an old man and in poor health when he died. As well, I feel compelled to comment on his public life which splashed noisily onto mine and the lives of so many ordinary people living in Northern Ireland, people who wanted peace some forty years before the fragile state of it in place today, people who were denied it in large part because of Paisley’s immovability, his fire and brimstone ferocity, his rabble-rousing. Deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland, Martin McGuinness, writes that for decades:
Ian Paisley was seen as part of an intractable and unending problem in the North of Ireland. But in the end, he made a powerful and determined contribution to resolving that problem and pointing to a new way forward based on dialogue, respect, partnership and reconciliation.
Unlike McGuinness, I am not a politician. I am a teacher who began her career in a Belfast classroom, where students revered Paisley and openly despised Catholics. Where did that hatred come from? Much of it was fueled by the rhetoric of Ian Paisley. In that classroom, I had a daily opportunity to observe what happens to a country when the hearts of its young harden, and I cannot forgive Ian Paisley for his part in that. I read recently that the best age to learn a new language is 11-13, early adolescence. Thus, it saddens me to consider the opportunities squandered by Paisley and his ilk. When he was at the height of his power, he had so many chances to to teach the language of peace and understanding, but he chose not to, and he stood by that choice for too many years of turmoil and bloodshed.
I know of course that my opinion of Ian Paisley probably doesn’t matter much. I know that in spite of being told to do the decent thing and to say nothing against a man who cannot defend himself in death, I feel a profound sense of obligation to speak publicly about the impact of his thundering, virulent attacks on Catholicism, liberalism, the Civil Rights movement, mixed marriage, and homosexuality, because he played a starring role in the destruction of dreams of peace and unity for so many of us. Along with the black and white images of The Troubles that flicker still in my memory – the banging of the bin-lids, the soldiers on street corners, the bombed out shops and the panic-stricken faces of families forced out of their homes, I can hear Ian Paisley roaring from our television set, his violent rhetoric scaring the little girl I once was.
There is no doubt, as the obituaries reveal, that Paisley, the “Big Man from Ballymena” (who called himself a child of God) was a masterful politician. More than most, he knew how to work a room, how to whip a crowd into a frenzy, how to frighten his followers into believing that their cultural heritage, their very way of life was at risk, and, he knew how to step back, absolved of any responsibility for what they might do. He was instrumental in bringing Northern Ireland to a standstill – “a constitutional stoppage” – through the Ulster Workers’ Strike (UWS) of 1974.
Forty years on, and on the other side of the world, I cannot write about the UWS without writing about what happened on May 24, 1974 at The Wayside Halt, a nondescript country pub on the edge of the dual carriageway between Antrim and Ballymena, the kind of place that wouldn’t merit a second look.
The Wayside Halt will forever linger in a corner of my consciousness, refining my sense of who I am. My father told me not too long ago that on that May evening in 1974, one of his friends had suggested stopping at the pub for a quick pint on the way home. Back home, the “quick pint” is something of a paradox, and because dad was in a rush to complete bread deliveries before dark that Friday night, he declined. Before he reached Randalstown, the harrowing word had arrived that within the previous hour, Loyalist paramilitaries had barged into the Wayside Halt, and shot at point-blank range, the Catholic publican,Shaun Byrne, and his brother, Brendan. Other pub owners in the Ballymena area had been attacked as well, their places of business vandalized because they had decided to remain open during the United Workers Council Strike of 1974.
Shaun and Brendan Byrne were murdered, while the children were in the sitting room upstairs. In the picture sent to me by one of the Byrne family, the only child not home that evening is the little girl at her father’s right shoulder.
Ian Paisley – man of God – did not attend their funerals. Intransigent and unyielding, it would take another quarter of a century of bloodshed – a lifetime – before he would accept the Good Friday agreement and share power with his former Nationalist enemies as First Minister in the new devolved government.
Too late for the Byrne brothers and their families.
Too late for me.
I sat here on Fri, baffled by the eulogies, the sanctimonious ‘not speaking ill’. it’s not simply that he was a divisive politician- he determined to put the fear of god in us, of what he and his ilk would do to the rest of us.
I will write it out, but I haven’t got past the ‘what is wrong with people?’ yet 🙂
Fiona, I was just going to ignore the news of his death at first, and then I read Anne Byrne’s blog (ganching.typepad.com) which is always instructive and brilliant. I knew Anne would have something to say, and after reading a particularly ignorant comment on her blog, I just couldn’t NOT say anything.
When I think of all the wonderful friendships I missed out on, because of the bigotry that kept our schools segregated and ordinary people living in terror, I could cry. I really could.
x
Hi Yvonne,
I read your article and although I identify with many of your own feelings, I find myself defending Paisley. Not because I liked him or feel any sadness at his passing but because I believe that we can not blame him for the choices we make as individuals.
As a young boy I remember those same images of Paisley on the TV as he bellowed out hatred, bitterness and contempt for republicanism, for nationalists and for Catholics. I wondered why he hated us so much. I also remember the images of Paisley and McGuinness as they sat and chuckled together while they mended the peace process and brought the cultures of Northern Ireland together. It is clear that these two men chose to change their path and converge on the road to peace.
As human beings we can choose to listen to the voice of a mad man who condemns our fellow countrymen because of religion. We can choose to feel bitterness, anger and hatred. We can choose to pick up a gun and kill in the name of God or Country. Or, we can choose mutual respect, forgiveness and understanding.
I grew up in a Catholic area yet I chose not to hate Protestants. I was shot by the UVF yet I chose to forgive those that shot me. I have had twenty years of the British Government protecting undercover agents who helped those UVF gunmen. I chose not to be bitter.
Paisley was responsible for saying a lot of things that gave encouragement to violent men. As was Martin McGuinness; Gerry Adams, David Ervine, Billy Hutchinson and many others on both sides. However, the men that killed six of my friends in Loughinisland made their own personal choice to kill. Every terrorist in Northern Ireland made their own personal choice to kill.
When I extend a hand of friendship to my protestant friends I do not give Paisley or McGuinness any credit for that. Nor should I hold them accountable if I decide to pick up a gun and kill.
The most powerful thing we have is choice. How we use it is up to us.
Colm
I was deeply conflicted about writing this for many of the reasons you give in your comment. I wrote it not out of bitterness, but out of sadness for what could have been in the country you and I chose to leave behind.
While I agree with you about the responsibility we have for our choices, I find myself wondering when that responsibility begins. As children, those choices are shaped by our parents, our teachers, our religious leaders, our politicians, and those who deliver our news. Paisley – and the others you mention – could have sewn the seeds of peace and understanding in our schools and in our places of worship. They didn’t.
Everyone who grew up to become a terrorist in Northern Ireland could have grown up to be something else, but hard men – like Paisley – played a part in making that impossible.
I have seen the pictures of him chuckling with Martin McGuinness. Yes. He had a change of heart, but it came too late for so many of us. Decades too late, and I think it is important as we write our history, to acknowledge that fact.
You write that you would not hold Paisley or McGuinness accountable if you chose to pick up a gun and kill. Of course you wouldn’t; however, where would such a horrific choice come from?
Desmond Tutu once said that “Abominations such as apartheid do not start with an entire population suddenly becoming inhumane. They start here. They start with generalizing unwanted characteristics across an entire segment of a population. They start with trying to solve a problem by asserting superior force over a population. They start with stripping people of rights and dignity – such as the right to be presumed innocent until proven guilty – that you yourself enjoy. Not because it is right, but because you can. And because somehow, you think this is going to solve a problem.”
We reap what we sow.
Well said Yvonne. My feelings exactly.
Oh, Liz, I struggled with saying it, but when I think of myself as a brand new teacher standing in a Rathcoole classroom, my heart breaks. By the time those kids were in my classroom, they were already poisoned.
I read recently that the best age to learn a second language is 11-13. We could have been integrating our schools and teaching the language of understanding – instead we segregated our schools and Paisley et al taught our kids the language of hate.
Intransigent and unyielding – yes, that’s how I will always think of Ian Paisley and indeed, Margaret Thatcher in relation to the politics during the so-called Troubles. I got out as soon as I was old enough to do so in1981 as Bobby Sands lay dying because of the ‘no surrender’ attitude. Sad, regrettable, and shameful times in NI epitomised too by your recall of the Byrne family tragedy. Unfortunately, we all know of many other atrocities committed against ‘both sides’ of the community. So, Paisley’s passing left me feeling the same way I felt when Thatcher died – to quote Yeats, “Cast a cold eye on life, on death. Horseman pass by.” Don’t apologise for this post, Yvonne – your honest and valid views are shared by many, I’m sure.
Thanks so much.
I had similar feelings about Margaret Thatcher’s passing. So many absolutes, so much time wasted, the lexicon of “no surrender!”
I remember in his Nobel speech, Heaney talked about the harrowing and the hardening of the heart of Northern Ireland, explaining that when hearts harden, our dreams are diminished and our possibilities are limited.
were it not for Paisley
and his ilk, I honestly think I would still be living there. I really do.
yvonne
dear Yvonne,
we all must speak our truth, it must be authentic to what we have lived. what Ian Paisley lived, what his truth was and how he lived it for decades cannot be completely rectified by an act that was much too little and much too late. so many precious and innocent lives were lost, beliefs and attitudes and actions spearheaded by his rancorous words and his own actions were solidified in the minds of the young and innocent and birthed a generation of terrorists for those who would accord him “a change of heart” seems merely a blip on a screen across the years and years of murderous rampages that spawned hatred and divisiveness with nary a hint of desire or design for a peaceful coexistence. and I would wager that a good many of his henchmen have not been so quelled by his “change of heart”, being too well schooled and groomed by the power mongering he unleashed within them; I wonder where they are now, and what it is they are teaching THEIR children?
you have spoken your truth, authentic to how you (were forced) to live it. it is my honor to read it, and to pay witness to it.
Karen
Oh Karen,
You are so eloquent. I don’t know how to respond sometimes, other than to say thank you.
Thank you for putting into words what I have been thinking too. He was the bogey-man of my generation – and his hate-filled rants are not something we can easily forgive and forget.
Marie – I don’t know if you ever visit anne Byrne’s blog – ganching. You should. He was the bogey man for her too and she is another one of those wonderful women from Northern Ireland that I never got to know in large part, I’m sure, because of the way our schools worked etc
Such a shame.