I should have realised when you pop the ‘B’ and/or ‘P’ words into a musing over the language and differing realities of Irish social life, north and south, you may well look out. For ‘border’ and ‘partition’ have become the pulses which raise the temperature in a way that was really only for the truly politically-committed of this island.
Certainly, in my upbringing and ‘circle’ of mates in Belfast back in the nineteen sixties, the border featured as a bit of excitement to cross over with the allure of difference; an ‘Ireland’ fashioned by beliefs and ideals unknown to us in deepest north Belfast, and a history which seemed, well, exotic. Not anymore.
The politics of the border just got very busy again, thanks in large part to the Brexit business and the blind alleys that were torturously gone up and back down again under the Theresa May governments before the Johnson ‘team’ took over and then the pandemic brought refashioned priorities starkly and tragically into place.
As we move out of the dire clutch of Covid, it is clear that ‘B’ and ‘P’ are back on the agenda and, as the comments appended to the article show, folks are really thinking aloud about the pros and cons of why what happened happened in and to Ireland in the 1920s; who was responsible and should therefore be blamed for the troubles that were a feature of Northern life thereafter; and what is the likely outcome if and when ‘unification’ is on the cards again.
I think what I was trying to say in my last post was something different: that little enough knowledge and experience is shared about the actual conditions of life in the here and now on the island of Ireland and how people think about these conditions, the differences in them in relation to everyday things like health, tax, education; basically, in other words, what makes the social world go around, and how people’s expectations and assumptions vary across the island.
To say nothing about attitudes to Britain.
Based upon a completely unscientific, non-expert, anecdotal reading, some things struck me as of interest, including a couple of particular bugbears such as the universal social charge (USC) which was levied upon ordinary employees in the republic to cover the banking crisis of mid-2000s.
This levy remains imposed on the adult population including those of us no longer in regular employment; while the property charge, for which nothing is returned directly in terms of civic or community services, is unlike the situation in Belfast where rates deliver various domestic rewards. Nothing dramatic but it matters.
The narrative of comments flew in spiralling directions – questions about entrepreneurial spirit north and south, social division along religious lines, though the health provision and housing were understandably front and central, as in this reader’s comment:
I think the depth of feeling of the under 30’s that they have been excluded from society and will never own their own homes is not well appreciated in the north. The young nordies think they have it bad but a property in Belfast can be had for under £100k, the cheapest apartment in Dublin costs €160k plus — in a dangerous area. SF have risen because the Labour party leadership are geriatric and never connect with that discontent. Young people also see that their taxes are wasted. Ireland actually spends MORE per capita on health than the UK but gets far less for their money — again it looks like jobs for the boys. One of the most attractive aspect of potential unification is the opportunity to start some of these things again. Rather than combine the NI NHS and the HSE, build it again from the ground up. Build it based on value for money and if the consultants complain bring in new ones wholesale from eastern Europe and India.
This brought forth the following infra response:
Things ‘seem like’ they are moving in the right direction but waiting lists etc are dire. I only hope this new found optimism at how quickly the service adapted to COVID will manifest into a culture change in the HSC. On housing, I completely get that. I got my first home when I was 23 and my commute to Belfast city centre is very short. I get the benefit of greenbelted countryside and the city within 30 minutes. Such a thing in Dublin is a much more expensive affair. Personally I blame the centralisation mentality in Irish politics. Everything outside Dublin is small beans and not taken seriously, I think Belfast folk wouldn’t tolerate that a second in a UI scenario.
But the following post seems much more directly engaged with what was the original theme:
The psychological separateness already exists within NI, so partition did not accurately reflect these distinctions and solved nothing. This article, like many by unionists, assumes NI and unionism are the same thing. That is not the case today and by the time unification happens it certainly won’t be. Unification will be about unifying those who want to be unified – northern nationalists (and whoever else wants to tag along) and southern Ireland. The rapprochement between unionists and the rest of Ireland, if it ever happens, is in many ways a completely separate matter.
I couldn’t work out which article – ‘like many by unionists’ – was being referred to in the above (hardly mine) but the response was quite emphatic:
So it’s not actually about ‘unification’ beyond the base territory then?….it’s really just about getting the unwilling Unionist-dominated bits of 6 county territory out from under British administration at the same time as ‘liberating’ the willing Nationalist parts – whatever the cost?……But as no-one else will give a fig according to your analogy and is happy to go along with it that’s ok I suppose…I wish I could wish you well in your endeavours…but then I will actually have to live in whatever mess is left as a result…
So, the focus of the comments was mostly on the past with little enough on the present, and even less on our possible futures. Incidentally, so far as I could see, there was not one reference to the mention in the original article of an audit of Sinn Fein’s achievements in government north of the border by way of informing the southern electorate of what they should expect if and when SF enter government there. Say no more.
A personal note from ‘lombardox’ on which to conclude (for which a pardonable indulgence please):
‘Gerald was teaching at TCD when I was there in the 90’s [and] put in the effort to engage with the undergraduates at a level we could understand. He opened the doors to a lifetime of Beckett appreciation for me through More Pricks Than Kicks and Murphy for which I’ll always be grateful. If you are reading this, thanks Gerald!’
Well, thank you ‘lombardox’ for these kind words.
And so, to close the door, and move on, and just for old time’s sake, a quotation from Beckett’s first published novel Murphy (originally published in 1938) – a novel which used to bring a smile to all our faces in the windowless seminar room of the Arts building all those years ago. When all is said and done, even in these increasingly uncertain and edgy times, we shouldn’t let irreverence and humour pass us by.
‘In Dublin a week later, that would be September 19th’ Neary minus his whiskers was recognized by a former pupil called Wylie, in the General Post Office contemplating from behind the statue of Cuchulain. Neary had bared his head, as though the holy ground meant something to him. Suddenly he flung aside his hat, sprang forward, seized the dying hero by the thighs and began to dash his head against his buttocks, such as they are, The Civic Guard on duty in the building, roused from a tender reverie by the sound of the blows, took in the situation at his lesire, disentangled his baton and advanced with measured tread, thinking he had caught a vandal in the act. Happily Wylie, whose reactions as a street bookmaker’s stand were as rapid as a zebra’s, had already seized Neary round the waist, torn him back from the sacrifice and smuggled him half-way to the exit.
‘Howlt on there, youze,’ said the C.G.’
Samuel Beckett, Murphy: London: Faber and Faber, 2009
A City Imagined, the third and final installment of Gerald Dawe’s Northern Chronicles, is published later this year by Merrion Press
“Walk This Way” by Scouse Smurf is licensed under CC BY-ND
Gerald Dawe is a Belfast-born poet. He was professor of English and fellow of Trinity College Dublin until his retirement in 2017. He has published twenty collections of poetry and literary criticism, including most recently, The Last Peacock and The Sound of the Shuttle: Essays on Cultural Belonging & Protestantism in Northern Ireland.
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