Nineteen Eighty-Five
As I head towards 50 I want to say some thank yous
“That summer I recall us watching a TV set in the Barracks canteen which showed the riots that had erupted in our home town. I determined the next year I would be going nowhere but staying at home.”
We returned home and the town had changed. The tension had arisen due to an Orange march. This connects to the Orange in the Flag of the Republic of Ireland (RoI). In the founding of an independent Ireland in 1922, it created two countries within one island, Northern Ireland (NI) and the Irish Freestate ( now RoI). I am led to believe that when a new national flag was commissioned it was to represent the new era with Green representing Irish Nationalists and Orange representing the Protestants. Orange is the colour of the Dutch Royal family and it was William of Orange who ensured the succession of Protestants to the British throne by marrying Queen Mary II. He continues to be hailed as a hero by Northern Irish protestants. In 1795 a fraternity was born now known at The Orange Order. They chose as their name implies William’s colour.
The white in between the Green and Orange was intended to symbolise the peace between the ‘two tribes’.
The Orange (as it is locally referred) has a tradition of marching for the best part of their over 200-year history. Usually, it is to an annual church service. The tension arose in 1985 when the authorities decided that it could not parade through a Nationalist area on its way to church. Demographics change as do areas and over the years many housing areas of my town became predominantly either Green or Orange. The town itself was predominantly Orange.
The dispute revolved around whether a historical march should be changed as the town was changing. The Orange community of which I was a part felt the need to oppose this change. This brought clashes with not only their Nationalists neighbours but the Police and British Army who were sent in to enforce the ban.
In 1968 inspired by the Civil Rights protests in the US a Civil Rights movement was born in NI. Catholics in the new state of NI suffered discrimination in most areas of civic life. The Civil Rights protests were modelled on the same ideals of non-violence as their US counterparts, however, sections of the Orange community saw this as a threat to the status of NI and reacted with counter-demonstrations which led to increasing tensions between the communities and violent clashes. In the shadows, people on both sides were arming themselves and eventually the armed men and occasionally armed women eclipsed the non-violent protests as sectarian killings became daily occurrences. This lasted until the Good Friday Agreement in 1998. That was a long 30 years.
I was born in 1970 and into a society that was at war with itself. Very quickly I absorbed my place in the conflict influenced by the family into which I was born. We were Protestant, Unionist (wishing to remain part of the United Kingdom (UK))and Orange.
The tension in my town in 1985 was not unique rather it was another chapter in the 30-year history of ‘The Troubles’.
As a kid and early teen, I saw it similar to watching a football team perform in a league the difference there were only two teams and no one knew when the game would end. The battle for us was over whether we would remain part of the UK or be subsumed into a United Ireland. Our worst fear was that we would lose and be overtaken by a United Ireland in which we would not be welcome nor have any place.
But this was not a game that was determined by the goals scored as the killings on each side mounted up. Few if anybody who lived in NI was unscathed by the troubles.
We now know that 1985 was a mid waypoint in the conflict. Protestants would have to learn to live with their fears and their Nationalist neighbours. In 1985 many of us were not ready.
15th November 1985 was also the year that the Anglo -Irish Agreement (AIA) was signed between the then British prime minister Margaret Thatcher and Irish Taoiseach Garrett Fitzgerald. This was seen by the Orange community as a betrayal by the British government by giving joint authority over NI to the RoI government. The place erupted. There were daily protests as the Orange community mobilised itself to oppose the AIA.
This coincided with me transferring from Junior High to Senior High. Another transition which would mean some friendships drifted while new ones emerged.
At 15 I was no longer an early teen nor yet an adult. For many years I saw 18 as a golden age when I would be free, 15 was getting there but not quite there.
I was establishing myself at a new school where I was aware I was one of the few on free school meals and from a single-parent family. There was a need to prove myself and that came in the form of being political. Others may have had their identity in their studies, sports or family pedigree. I wrapped mine in my identity as a Protestant and a Political one at that. This meant I did not concentrate on my school work as I was more concerned with what was going on in the streets.
But it was n’t all politics. I had two good friends Art and Morrie who weren’t interested in politics and if I wanted to move with them I had to act my age.
We acted our age by walking into town on a Friday after school and getting a coffee at one of many cafes in the town. Friday afternoon was when many our age and older ‘hung around the town’ and interacted with each other in a relaxed ‘end of the week’ kind of way.
One Friday we bumped into a lad from our year who we knew well and he was with a girl. She wasn’t any ordinary girl as her uniform told me she was a ‘Catholic’ girl. She bemused me with her mannerisms, her laughter and her boldness. I remembered her eyes they seemed rather than her body to hold her life.
It was perhaps weeks later when we were hanging out at the Swimming Pool cafe that I came across her ( let’s call her Michelle). I was once again attracted by her liveliness. I was at the counter when she joined me in the queue. Initially, I didn’t recognise her but as I was charmed by those eyes and her smile it came back to me, “Your the one that was with Rich the other day.” She confirmed she was, joked some more. Once served I made my way back to ‘the lads’.
In the same cafe, there were some younger lads. Some ‘spat’ developed which led to me chasing these two down the street. They ran into a house and for a reason unknown to me I knocked on the door. A woman answered I presumed their mum. I can’t remember what I would be saying but I do remember that she was very pleasant and invited me in. Just as I was leaving who walks through the door but Michelle. It is with her brother and her mum that I have been chatting. They invite me to call again.
I like visiting others and so somehow I found my way to their home and like a cat who got well fed I kept returning. Veronica kept a very welcoming home and I was probably there as much for that as ‘the girl with the life in her eyes’. But it was a major contradiction as here was I on the streets proclaiming, “Ulster says, No” yet a catholic family had become my friends.
I lived with that contradiction until July 1987. The amount of political activity I saw in those two years and was involved in would do me for a lifetime. It came to an end when I realised what I had failed to see that people make grand statements but in the end, life is about compromise and negotiation.
It still revolved around this disputed parade but two years on people had begun to accept it. I along with a few others saw this as weakness and we made our views known. It resulted in a division amongst us but as Leonard Cohen sang, ‘There is a crack in everything, that is how the light gets in’. The light showed me that I may believe but if the leaders don’t believe what they are saying why should I be their fodder. I went home and took down my flag.
Was it an act of surrender? A surrendering of my soul to the light? If it were so the light was now my guide for there were no others.
The stamp of Lord Carson is from 1912–1914 when unionists opposed Irish Home Rule. It was given to me by Veronica who had found it in a book. That act speaks to me of redemption a catholic woman giving me a Protestant Unionist this stamp. It somehow brings together the contradiction. Thank you to her and her family for providing a place to be and their friendship.
Best day,
g
