July, 1999
I put off writing about Belfast for a long time because, in a way, it's just too intense to explain easily. In our two and a half weeks in Ireland and Northern Ireland we did three various types of historical tours and talked to a lot of residents about "the Troubles" here, as they call it. Before I describe Belfast I'll give the brief history which we learned. If you know this already, I'm sorry, just skip these paragraphs.
For everyone else: Ireland fought for hundreds of years for its independence from Great Britain. The country was devastated by the Irish Potato Famine in the late 19th century in which Great Britain (GB) purposely withheld food in a horrible (but successful) attempt to reduce the peasant population. A few years later (forgive me, but I don't remember the date) the Irish revolted, lead in part by Michael Collins.
The peace treaty called for six counties in the North to remain part of Britain, while the rest of the country could have its freedom. Collins signed the treaty, knowing that if he didn't accept it the Irish would lose everything. (The acceptance threw the country into a civil war and lead to Collins' death). The six counties kept by GB were chosen because of their Protestant majority. (Of course, GB is soundly Protestant while Ireland is traditionally Catholic.)
Those six counties are now known as Northern Ireland, or "Ulster" and are part of the U.K. The rest of the country, the Republic of Ireland, is completely free and remains happy, prosperous and peaceful. Unfortunately, the Catholic minority in N. Ireland has always been heavily discriminated against and treated unfairly by the Protestant Loyalists (as in loyal to the U.K.) and "Mother England". This has lead to the unhappy situation in which Northern Ireland (and specifically Belfast) finds itself now.
This situation is known as "the Troubles" and climaxed in the late 1960's and early 70's with extreme violence and large areas of segregation within the city. Although through a series of peace talks and cease fires things are better here, the Catholic Republican groups (most notably the IRA) and Protestant Loyalist groups continue to wage war on one another. Although the IRA is better known for its violence, the loyalists are no less brutal. Unfortunately, the violence will undoubtedly continue until the Republic wins back their freedom from GB.
Most people we spoke to think that will happen within the next few years, simply because the Catholic population is growing more rapidly (as Catholic populations tend to) and will very soon outnumber the Protestants. Right now it's around 48/52 %. Even then peace seems unlikely, as the Protestants who remain may very well be discriminated against, and simply because that many years of violence and hatred won't rest easily.
All that said, I was surprised to find Belfast a nicer city than I'd imagined. On our first morning we took an all day tour outside the to see the Giant's Causeway - a strange arrangement of stones on the coast shaped into hundreds of hexagonal pillars, caused by slow and regular cooling of lava millions of years ago. Dubbed "the 8th wonder of the world," it was both strange and beautiful. On the ride to the Causeway we drove along the coast and saw spectacular scenery. The day was so clear that we could easily see Scotland across the sea.
Much more interesting, however, was our conversation with the bus driver who had spent his life in Belfast and worked as a taxi driver for years. During that time he was hijacked twice and bombed once, barely escaping with his life. He refused to state his religion, but he said that he lived in a neutral neighborhood, indicating that he was not a radical for either side.
As we drove through Northern Ireland he pointed out flags and graffiti that indicated which neighborhoods were Catholic and Protestant. In the Protestant neighborhoods the hydrants, curb sides and even some trees were painted red, white and blue. Union Jack flags were everywhere. In Catholic neighborhoods the stores had traditional Irish names like O'Sullivan or St.. Patrick and Gaelic signs. The flags flying from the houses were that of the Republic of Ireland.
Our driver explained that the neighborhoods were strictly divided and that it wouldn't be safe for one to cross into the other neighborhood. Job applications state clearly "no Protestants" or "no Catholics" leading to Catholic or Protestant only businesses. He said that it would be futile to lie, since anyone could tell by your name or address which you were. Of course, schools are divided, too.
After we got back from our first tour we began our second which was specifically about the Troubles. Much of what our second driver explained was the same, but he drove us through the worst of the divided neighborhoods in Belfast. These neighborhoods are the source of the infamous Orangeman Parades which make international news every July when Protestant Loyalists march through Republican neighborhoods. The violence is so great at those times that shopkeepers generally close and take their vacations elsewhere.
Because we were there between parades, the Loyalist neighborhoods were still decorated with red, white and blue streamers and flags everywhere. Huge murals in both neighborhoods displayed IRA and UVA or UFF (the Protestant equivalent) propaganda, much of it violent, which pictured machine guns and men dressed in black. Our driver explained that although the residents liked the tours, which drive by several times a day, (they see it as a way to advertise) no rival would dare to walk through the other neighborhood for obvious reasons.
Although police patrol in armored vehicles, it was apparent that they were little more than a formality. The driver explained that the residents in these neighborhoods value honor to the cause above all else and "squealers" would pay dearly. That afternoon we had all heard on the news that a young man had been shot in the leg in an area near where we were. The driver said that he was most likely suffering a punishment of sorts for going against the cause in a small way. For a bigger crime he'd have been killed.
Our tour ended a little later and our driver dropped us off at the hostel in a calm upper class, neutral neighborhood. Before we left he reminded us again that the extremists only make up one part of Belfast and most residents live peacefully together. Unfortunately, as our first driver had demonstrated, the violence isn't entirely contained and strikes civilians in the most unexpected ways. Both men left us with a sentiment we had already heard several times before, "This isn't about religion. It has nothing to do with God, and everything to do with politics."
We left Belfast the next day and I can't say that I was sad to go. Although I was glad I had seen it, things were worse than I had expected and I breathed a sigh of relief as we departed for Scotland. Before I move on though, I should apologize for any biases that no doubt crept in as I wrote. Probably because the situation was explained to me first by Catholic friends and the guides and no doubt because I'm an American with a bit of historical bias against Britain, I believe that what the English did and have continued to do to the Irish Catholics of Northern Ireland is wrong.
By dividing a country in the beginning, they brought these problems upon themselves and I think that until Ireland is united there will be no lasting peace. Only time will tell, however, and perhaps the next generation of Irish will look back upon the Troubles with the same wonderment and disdain that my generation sees in the old segregated South.
We arrived in Scotland that afternoon and, unfortunately, I stopped keeping a journal, knowing that we soon would be home. Among our Scottish adventures, we climbed Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in Great Britain. It took six excruciating hours to reach the top but was well worth it.
Later we were fortunate enough to stumble upon the Highland Games where the men wore traditional Scottish kilts and competed in the old-time sports such as the tossing the caber (a literal log throw) and the hill climb race where dozens of runners sprint to the top a mountain and back (yes, I do mean mountain, not hill). Although at this time we were camping in the wettest area in Britain, we were fortunate enough to be there during a dry spell. Although we didn't think too much about the weather, except to be grateful that we were finally drying out from Ireland, the day before we left we were informed that the city's water supply was dangerously low, after a week of no rain! Soon afterward, we headed to Edinburgh where we were scheduled to fly home. We were so homesick! We spent a night there before boarding a plane bound for Atlanta. Imagine our surprise when we were seated in first class! We still aren't sure why, but we aren't complaining. It definitely eased the 9-hour flight home.
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