Tuesday, June 14th

As promised here comes a long post, please stick with me.  I'll start by covering what we did yesterday and move chronologically right up through the run I took in the Belfast Botanical Gardens about an hour ago.  I already feel like I'm overflowing with experiences and things I want to say/report, so I acknowledge that covering two days in one post may be a bit much -- apologies in advance.  I also apologize that in order to not truly take up hours of your time, I'm going to assume my readers have a general knowledge of Irish history, politics, and the Troubles to a certain extent.  So here goes...
Yesterday morning, our guide of sorts -- Raymond Lennon, who is associated with the Clonard Monastery (more on that later) where he plays the organ -- took us on a mini-bus tour of the areas most heavily involved in the Troubles (with the exception of Derry which we will journey to later in the trip).  I had seen the murals spread throughout the city from afar when here with students in March of 2009, but we essentially atop a mountain looking down on the city as opposed to actually touring through the streets.  This time, thankfully, we were right there weaving our way through the remarkably segregated neighborhoods.  First we'd be in a Catholic neighborhood and 50 yards later we'd be in a Protestant neighborhood; not a big deal for us Americans, but as Raymond said, if a local strolled into the wrong neighborhood absentmindedly (hard to do as flags and murals mark the territories fiercely) he/she very seriously risked (and still risks, though much less often) disappearing forever.  Just recently the body of a woman (mother of 13 whose husband had already died) who had been dragged from her home by the IRA on suspicions that she was an informer was found buried 50 miles away on the beach... She disappeared (I acknowledge this is somewhat of a tangent as she didn't wander into the wrong neighborhood -- I'm already full of too many stories) over 40 years ago.  When we Americans think of segregation, I think we automatically think of black/white, the civil rights movement in the 1960's, and some of that sort of thinking still does exist, not just in the segregated neighborhoods -- there are actually swimming pools for Catholics and swimming pools for Protestants because the government knows if they built one to be shared neither community would use it.  One thing that really struck me was seeing two elementary schools directly across the street from one another -- one Catholic, one Protestant.  The Catholic elementary school had massive metal shutters on all the windows that have to be shut every evening when the school closes in order to avoid having the building burnt down, and a vandal had spray-painted "UVF" (Ulster Volunteer Force) on the building.  Across the street, the Protestant elementary school stood -- much shinier -- with no shutters at all.  The two schools are in a predominantly Protestant neighborhood.  Raymond told us a story that happened close to "marching season" -- which is fast approaching.  In preparation for an upcoming Orange (i.e. Protestant) parade, a Protestant man in the area was hanging a Unionist flag (probably the British flag) and one of his Catholic neighbors made a comment along the lines of "Soon you won't be allowed to hang that flag anymore" -- next thing you know, the Protestant and his fellow Protestant neighbors decided that they didn't want the Catholic families walking their children to school down their street anymore and for weeks hundreds of police officers had to line shoulder to shoulder down the middle of the street as a barrier as the children and their parents walked to school.  Earlier in the bus tour, we passed an elementary school that still had huge bullet holes in the exterior walls.  Perhaps the children weren't doing the fighting in the Troubles, but it's easy to see how those who were children at the time and even in recent years come to grow up with such divided viewpoints.

Fences.  There are walls and fences everywhere.  Around the police headquarters, around schools, around whole neighborhoods.  At some spots, you actually have to pass through a gated border to get from a Catholic neighborhood into a Protestant one, and the gates are shut at dark.  Obviously, things have changed greatly since the signing of the Good Friday Peace Agreement in 1998, but there are more "peace walls" in Belfast now than there were before the peace agreement.  It seems that "peace" very much means diminished violence, but there is still a long way to go in terms of integrating these communities.  This morning Minister Attwood (SDLP) said to us: "What we are doing now is a good start, but we are no where near the end," and this is visually evident in the city.  Peace walls are built between Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods to separate the communities in order to enable peace...it takes a concrete wall it seems.  The most impressive (though that seems a much too positive word) is the peace wall we visited yesterday.  It appears to go on for miles and has actually gotten higher twice to stop things (such as petrol bombs) from being thrown over to the other side.  The first wall is concrete, atop that was added a metal wall, and atop that was added a chain link fence.  People from all over have come to graffiti and write peaceful sentiments on the wall, and Raymond told us there has been talk by some of wanting to put windows into the wall as a show of progress in the peace process.

Driving and walking through Falls Road, Sandy Row, Shankill, etc. yesterday was important but sad for me, even though I know the violence has decreased tremendously.  It seemed that we were told several times in the first 24 hours "we have a great peace here now," but all morning as I looked around, I kept thinking "This is what peace looks like?"  I guess it is more peaceful...and as we also keep hearing, "it's a process." 

That being said, it was a welcome shift to visit Clonard Monastery in the afternoon, where we met with Ed Peterson, who I will discuss in a moment.  First, some important information about the role of Clonard Monastery in the peace process.  This is where Gerry Adams always attended mass (he's now found his way into the Dublin government). Fr. Al Reid of Clonard (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alec_Reid) had a hand in arranging secret meetings between Gerry Adams and John Hume by sneaking John Hume in the front door of the monastery while Gerry Adams slipped in the back -- they could not be seen entering the same establishment together or risk losing credibility with their supporters.  It was in Clonard -- in Room 007 no less -- that these secret peace talks took place and where Adams and Humes wrote the six points that would eventually give shape to the Good Friday Agreement.  And it is in Room 007 that we met with Ed Peterson who works at Clonard in peace and reconciliation efforts.  He spoke mainly of their efforts with Unity Pilgrimages, which involves a group of Catholics joining "our Protestant brothers and sisters" (a refreshing thing to hear someone say at the end of yesterday!) at their Sunday worship services.  His comments and the group's perspective were a hopeful sign of progress and optimism, despite the many Eucharistic issues, etc. he says they still try to work through.  The persepective of the pilgrims and the program is that "the way towards peace is through becoming friends with one another," and they strive for "Christian unity" in Northern Ireland.  They now cycle through four different worship services in a joint worship service as well; the cycle goes through Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian, and Church of Ireland, so that they can worship together and sort of take turns with Eucharistic practice.  To go from such violent images in the morning to such a calm, gentle, inspired man in the afternoon left me with a sense of hope in the air.
Then last night Phil Metres (English/Creative Writing Prof. at JCU), John Day (Academic Vice President of JCU), Rich Clark (Sociology Prof. at JCU), and Mim Conway, who I was in a Contemporary Irish Fiction course with in the fall, all went to a reading by the writers of Queen's University's Seamus Heaney Center, which marked the opening of the Belfast Book Festival.  We saw readings and music by Ciaran Carson (and his wife), Medbh McGuckian, Glenn Patterson, and Padraigin Ni Uallachain.  We then went for a pint with Don Bogan (and his wife), who teaches in the Creative Writing program at the University of Cincinnati but has a Fulbright position here at Queen's for the semester.  By the way, I've been able to find some great material at the University bookstore that I can't find in the States, and I'm eager to get into the library later this week to search for Field Day pamphlets!
All in all, a busy but eventful first full day.

Are you still with me?

Now for today!

Today we spent all of our time together at Stormont, the center of government here in Belfast/Northern Ireland.  A magnificent building, and as Raymond and Phil pointed out, it was amazing to sit in the legislative assembly and watch two sides of the room talk respectfully (and even share a chuckle at one point) when just ten years ago they would have been shooting at each other.
The first person we met with was Minister Alex Attwood of the Social Democratic Labour Party (SDLP) -- the more moderate Irish Nationalist group, though he did refer to himself as a Republican (slightly more radical term than Nationalist) -- sidenote: Raymond has a rather funny story about being in Hudson (yes Hudson, OH! He has worked with Walsh in the past) and meeting a woman during Bush's last campaign who expressed jealousy when a bit in jest he told her that the Irish Republicans have their own army (meaning the IRA).  Minister Attwood talked mostly about John Hume (SDLP is his party) and referenced his admiration for Bobby Kennedy often.  He expressed that the SDLP believes that you can only achieve peace through dialogue, but made a point to tell us he was not a pacifist.  That he believed an arms struggle can be legitimate but that it never has been in Ireland/Northern Ireland, that it has only been terror.  He really, as Phil pointed out, was speaking largely from just war theory.  He pointed out that though the IRA has always said they fight on behalf of the people, only 2-3% of the people support the IRA.  He also spoke admiringly of Michael Collins and Arthur Griffith because they "stopped when the price was too great," noting that Michael Collins recognized that there was too much suffering and that a compromise was a positive and preferable step to continued violence.  He also talked about how much British intelligence had infiltrated the IRA, leading up to the peace agreements at the end of the Troubles, and spoke very candidly about his belief that full truth about everything that has happened over the last 50 years will never come to light, saying "people don't want the truth to come out.  Really...Because the truth is so revolting," adding that individuals can't/won't admit to the atrocious things they did.  He thinks exposure would be too great and too personal for there to be some sort of truth recovery.  He also mentioned that politicians don't make decisions they think will be too upsetting to victims and that he thinks amnesty should be given to allow for truth-telling mechanisms but that amnesty doesn't extend to leaders of organizations. 
The big news around here right now seems to be that a woman (I think an IRA woman) who had been convicted and served time for murdering a young school teacher who was walking down the street with her father who was a judge (and I think the actual target) has now been appointed as an advisor to someone in Stormont (the arts & culture person), and people are outraged.  He mentioned her yet also noted that people from all parties spoke nicely publicly about the politician Brian Lennahan (sp?) who passed last week which is progress.  This woman is an interesting segue to the next person we met...
Even though we spent the least amount of time with him (we hope to have him come meet us at the university later in the trip), I was most...starstruck is an awful word for it, but perhaps the most accurate...with meeting this next person: Patrick Sheehan.  http://www.independent.co.uk/news/people/profiles/pat-sheehan-the-hunger-striker-who-gave-up-bombs-for-the-ballot-box-2174664.html 
Sheehan is a member of Sinn Fein (MLA -- Minister of Legislative Assembly) who took over for Gerry Adams when he switched to Dublin.  Perhaps more...impressively?....he was one of the hunger strikers in the H-Block alongside Bobby Sands.  He grew up in West Belfast as one of only three Catholic families in an all Protestant neighborhood and said that as he aged, his Protestant friends grew more and more distant.  He was attacked by Loyalist gangs several times, and his family finally picked up (over night) and moved to Falls Rd. when a man came knocking at his front door, asking his father if he could speak with Patrick.  His father delayed and the man eventually started shooting into the house -- though no one was harmed.  Shortly after moving to Falls Rd, Sheehan joined the youth division of the IRA and then, at 17, joined the IRA.  In 1979, he was sentenced for a bomb that went off in Belfast City Center, and it was in 1980, in the H-Block of Maze Prison, that he volunteered for the hunger strike movement led by Bobby Sands.  He replaced hunger striker Kieran Doherty (one of the ten Hunger Strike Martyrs) when he died.  Sheehan participated in the Hunger Strike starting on August 10, 1981 until it ended on October 3, 1981.  He told us that October 3rd was a Saturday and the Wednesday before, the doctors at the prison told him he had virtually no time left - he wasn't going to survive, as his liver had gone into failure.  He was down to 105 pounds.  Shockingly he has no ill health effects from it today.  He was released from prison in 1987, but was back in 1989 and sentenced to 24 years.  Then, in 1998, with the signing of the Good Friday Agreements, he was released again.  Then came Sinn Fein and now Stormont.  To see this man in a snappy suit with a bright purple tie, looking so official, one would never know he was an IRA gunman and a hunger striker, but he has done work with a political ex-prisoner group, peace groups, and outreach groups with unionists.  He said the film Hunger was incredibly accurate and like being transported back in time...very disturbing film, so perhaps part of the "starstruck" feeling comes from having watched that film and read about the events and then meeting one of "real people" who experienced it.  I'm ashamed to admit it, he was essentially a terrorist, but it's oddly hard not to be impressed by this man.  Phil referred to a weird "glamour" that seems to surround the IRA, and he's frighteningly right.  On one hand, I come from an Irish Catholic heritage and have spent a good amount of time exploring postcolonial theory and literature and therefore on some level understand or acknowledge the source of their anger, but at the same time I can not condone or respect (even if I can explain it with theory) the extreme and violent actions they have committed.  I guess that makes me a moderate nationalist?  Still...I got more excited to meet Sheehan than anyone else we met.  Fear not, lest you think I or this trip is seeming one-sided or biased.  We are meeting with Protestant DUP leaders soon as well!  It's an odd thing to be able to explain the thoughts, motivations and reactions of both sides to a certain degree, knowing that your heritage lies on one side -- that Irish Catholic guilt finds a way to creep in and you have to remind yourself to step back.   Ultimately though, perhaps that's exactly what the peace process is about.
Tomorrow we do a walking tour of the same areas from the first day, but we do one with a former IRA political prisoner and one with a former loyalist political prisoner.  Then we go meet Rory O'Neil, an old JCU Orientation Staff compadre, who is working with an organization called the Peace Players.
Slainte,
Jeannie