PART 2 > IRISH NEWS ROUND-UP > http://irlnet.com/rmlist/ > > Saturday/Sunday, 1/2 July, 2000 > ----------------------------------------------------------------- > > > >>>>>> Nothing changes for loyalist muralist > > > A new loyalist mural in the Shankill Road area of Belfast > celebrating a series of atrocities has demonstrated the sick > mindset of a leading loyalist, recently released from jail and > anxious to boost his profile in an ongoing loyalist turf war. > > The painting in Dover Street lists five massacres by the loyalist > UFF/UDA - at Sean Graham's bookmakers, the Rising Sun bar in > Greysteel, County Derry, Kennedy Way council depot, the Devenish > Arms and James Murray's bookmakers. A total of 17 Catholics were > murdered at random in the attacks. > > The inscription underneath reads: "Wouldn't it be great if it was > like this all the time?" The slogan, from a Van Morrison song, > has been used in reconciliation campaigns. > > A spokesman for the Lower Ormeau Concerned Community, Mr Gerard > Rice, said the "sickness" of the painting did not surprise him. > "They want to make people believe they are under threat from > Catholics when in reality they are under threat from loyalist > drug barons," he said. > > Less than two weeks ago the UFF on the Shankill Road threatened > to shoot Catholic if alleged attacks on Protestant homes in west > and north Belfast did not cease. The threat, also seen as related > to an ongoing loyalist turf war, was later suspended. > > > > ----------------------------------------------------------------- > > > >>>>>> Aldi strikers' morale high > > > > Striking MANDATE trade union members from the Aldi store on > Parnell Street, Dublin, were on hand to picket the company's new > Galway outlet when it opened last week. The union has extended > the picket to Aldi's other stores in Cork and Letterkenny over > the weekend and plans to picket Aldi's Thurles store when it > eventually opens. > > Aldi had fired one Galway worker before the store even opened > because she had failed to memorise 250 prices in a sufficient > space of time. Aldi stores do not use bar code scanners as used > by most supermarkets, so employees are expected to memorise > hundreds of prices. > > Aldi has refused to negotiate with the workers' trade union, > MANDATE or seek a resolution of the Dublin dispute through the > Labour Relations Commission. They say that they have internal > grievance procedures in place and they claim that the dispute "is > confined to only three former staff members from the Dublin store > who decided to break their contract of employment". Two other > members of staff, they say, "failed their probationary period and > were not made permanent". > > MANDATE officials point out that the decision to fire the two > workers on probation was made after they joined the union. They > say their members are on strike following the refusal of Aldi > management to recognise the union. > > The trade union says that Aldi negotiates with unions in Germany > and in Denmark but refuses to do so in Ireland. > > Workers outside the store have been distributing leaflets in > Chinese, Romanian, French and African languages - aimed at the > large number of non-nationals who shop at the store. > > Business at the store has been clearly affected by the strike, > with only two or three tills operational at times. MANDATE > spokesperson, Willie Hamilton said that the union is adopting a > long-term approach to the dispute. "The workers' morale is > incredibly high," he said. "They have been buoyed by support that > they have received from the public, from trade unionists and from > the broad level of political support." > > An Aldi spokesperson would only say that all their stores were > "fully operational" when asked about the effect of the dispute on > the company's business. > > > ----------------------------------------------------------------- > > >>>>>> Feature: Views from the hill > > BY LAURA FRIEL > > > > A sapling, despoiled of its leaves and branches, stands in a > barren field against a darkening sky. Tied at the top of the tree > flies a British Union Jack; beneath it an Ulster loyalist flag is > unfurled. > > In her study, "Northern Protestants, An Unsettled People," Susan > McKay argues that "a sense of place is important in the North of > Ireland". On the front cover, the deserted field at Drumcree > provides McKay with an image of desolation which sets the tone of > her book. > > This is a story of ambivalence, indifference and denial - a story > of a community whose greatest peril lies within rather than > outside its ranks. The impromptu flagpole may be staked into the > ground, but its slender form is insubstantial against the > threatening storm. > > On the back of "The Faithful Tribe", a study of the Orange Order > by Ruth Dudley Edwards, the message is subtly different. The > image is still of Drumcree field. A bowler-hatted figure stands > silhouetted beneath a flying Union Jack. > > It's an archetypal image of Britishness, but in this particular > corner of Empire, the sun has already set. This records the > closing, not the beginning of an era. The immediate nostalgia > evoked by the image is dispelled by the harsh reality barely > visible on the horizon. > > The flag may be illuminated, but only by the artificial lights of > British Crown force personnel deployed to thwart the Orangemen's > determination to walk down the Garvaghy Road. This is a story of > inexplicable betrayal. > > For Dudley Edwards, the Orange Order represents "the old virtues > of family, sobriety, self reliance, hard work and thrift". Her > study opens with a quote from an English Orangeman reminiscing > about his childhood and remarking on the fate of fellow Orangemen > in the north of Ireland today. > > "It's the Blue Remembered Hills: you can't go back. We can all > see that community and experience a sense of loss - because we > know where we've come from. But it makes me feel angry that an > entire community should be demonised for no greater crime than > being out of fashion." > > McKay has no time for such misplaced sentimentality. The gravest > flaw at the heart of the Ulster Protestant community lies in its > ambivalence towards sectarian violence. To what extent are > Northern Protestants undermined by a sectarianism that few of > them acknowledge? asks McKay. > > She probes into the darkest regions first, describing in depth > the sectarian killings of two Catholic teenagers, Bernadette > Martin and James Morgan."I wanted to explore the influences which > were capable of producing such violent hatred," says McKay. > > "Bernadette Martin and James Morgan were young people full of > life and much loved. Their circles included Catholics, > Protestants, and others who had allegiance to neither faith. But > to the men who murdered them, they were simply taigs, fenians. > The enemy." > > McKay displays no ambiguity when it comes to sectarian violence; > the passion with which she describes the circumstances > surrounding the killings and the compassion with which she > identifies with the victims, speaks for itself. > > "Both of the killers [of Bernadette and James] supported the > Orange Order. Trevor McKeown was a Drumcree foot soldier. Norman > Coopey was an Orangeman, a member of the brotherhood." > > Within the Protestant community, such violence is not typical, > says McKay, but it does represent the worst outcome of a type of > strong political Protestantism. "How, in some, did being 'proud > to be Protestant' turn pathological?" she asks. > > For Ruth Dudley Edwards, sectarian violence isn't spawned from > within the Protestant community or Orangeism. Dudley Edwards > might record Orangemen describing themselves as "blockheaded > bigots", but she sees sectarian violence as the game plan of the > Republican Movement. > > "It was Drumcree, at the Mecca of Orangeism, that was to become > the centre of the IRA/Sinn Fein strategy of setting not just > Protestant against Catholic and unionist against nationalist, but > the loyal institutions against the state to which they were so > fervently loyal." > > Republican cynicism has no bounds for Dudley Edwards. The IRA > "hope to provoke retaliation" and "the kicking to death of Robert > Hamill and the shooting of Adrian Lamph "helped [Breandan] Mac > Cionnaith win a council seat." > > And then there's the do nothing theory of social change. "Without > the 25 years of assault from the IRA, the Orange Order would have > almost withered away," says Dudley Edwards. > > She acknowledges that "in Portadown itself, with its big > Protestant majority, violence against Catholics has been a > constant" and that "Portadown parades have often provided a focal > point for sectarian conflict". > > But although the author provides scant evidence to support it, > for Dudley Edwards sectarian violence is reciprocal. Two warring > tribes, with the RUC "caught in the middle" and Dublin > interference and"well meaning English belief in balance and > compromise" making the situation worse". > > At the heart of Dudley Edwards' analysis lies a simple model. It > is this. If republicans are the bad guys, and if the Orange Order > aren't exactly all time good guys, then for Dudley Edwards > they're good enough. > > The fundamental flaw at the heart of the analysis is this. The > right to live free from sectarian harassment is a northern > nationalist as well as republican aspiration. Dudley Edwards > fails to address the hopes and fears of the nationalist > community. They are portrayed simply as dupes of the IRA. > > Thus, residents' spokespersons are "frontmen" and their mandate > is "bogus". Breandan Mac Cionnaith is an "unrepentant ex > terrorist" and Father Eamon Stack, a "fanatical" Jesuit who > "stalked the Garvaghy Road hunting for state injuries". Irish > Americans who give them a sympathetic hearing are "die hards". > > Dudley Edwards' analysis almost falters when in 1998 she decides > that "the Sinn Fein agenda would not be helped by mayhem at > Drumcree". Her solution is to demonise Breandan Mac Cionnaith > even further. > > "Journalists who had known Mac Cionnaith for three years > confirmed to me that he seemed megalomaniacal. One man has > actually managed to flout the will of virtually everybody." > > So forget 200-odd years of Orange inspired bigotry and decades of > unionist misrule, ignore the anti Catholic pogroms of the 1920s > and the 1960s, and sideline the campaign of sectarian > assassination perpetrated by loyalists in the name of Drumcree. > It's all Mac Cionnaith's fault. > > Dudley Edwards often collapses her analysis of the opinions of > the Orangemen of which she writes so sympathetically. Breandan > Mac Cionnaith is currently being actively targeted by loyalist > death squads. Rosemary Nelson is already dead. The demonisation > of individuals is a very dangerous business in the north of > Ireland. > > Of course, Dudley Edwards has no sympathy for loyalist violence. > Sectarian violence around Drumcree is just another form of > extremism, distinct from mainstream Orangeism. So when the Orange > Order's Grand Master, Robert Saulters, is reported as having said > that Tony Blair had "sold his Protestant birthright by marrying a > Romanist", this is not a sectarian remark, merely a deeply > religious one. > > "Inevitably I tried and failed to explain to horrified English > and Irish people that such a remark did not mean that Saulters > was a mad bigot," write Dudley Edwards, "but instead that he took > his religion seriously in a way which was incomprehensible to a > secular world." > > One minute Orangemen are singled out for praise because of their > plain speaking, the next they don't really mean what they say. > Misunderstood and ill treated, they are inevitably led towards > ill conceived acts of frustration. > > "As I became closer to the loyal institutions and made more > friends within them," says Dudley Edwards, "I was constantly > angered by the sheer unfairness of the way in which they were > perceived outside their community." > > At Drumcree, Dudley Edwards watched as an Orangeman "briefly > succumbed to frustration and rage and was seen screaming at the > RUC". Another, "a pillar of his local community - completely lost > control when he saw the razor wire, for it conjured up an image > of the trenches at the Somme". > > While Dudley Edwards accepts the Orange Order's perception of its > own martyrdom, McKay is more questioning. She cites an incident > in which an Orange supporters' march in Portadown was confronted > by the RUC. > > McKay describes a handful of RUC, "undecided" about what they > were about to do: "Several held batons, but did not use them. > They did not block the footpath, so the parade simply moved > sideways off the road and resumed its route." > > But the marchers were "furious". The behaviour of the RUC was "a > disgrace" and partisan. It was the "same police force" who had > "protected an illegal Sinn Fein march in Belfast... but here, > they drew their batons," said one angry marcher. > > "The rage seemed disproportionate. Righteous indignation gone > hysterical. I had no doubt that this citizen had been entirely in > approval when, during Drumcree 1997, the RUC drew their batons on > nationalists who were protesting by sitting on the Garvaghy > Road," says McKay. > > Nationalist protesters had been "grabbed, beaten, lifted, carried > through the first line of police, which then closed behind them. > Then they were flung through the second line." They emerged > "bloody headed and bruised" while "the Orangemen passed down the > road beyond the RUC lines". > > The decision to stop the Orange march in 1998 was "to the > Drumcree supporters, a matter of betrayal and surrender," says > McKay. "A young man... stood in a circle cleared by the > incandesence of his anger. > > "He looked like a firework exploding. 'They're nothing but > fucking animals them bastards on the Garvaghy Road,' he roared, > 'if they don't give us the Garavghy Road, we'll fucking take it > by force.' > > "Then they sang, 'The Lord is my shepherd'. The last time I had > heard the beautiful psalm," says McKay, " was at the funeral, in > the summer of 1997, of James Morgan, murdered by an Orangeman." > > McKay identifies what she calls a "craving for victimhood". In an > interview with a Portadown Orangeman, whose "sash was worn over a > shoulder which also bore a UDA tattoo," McKay exposes the > doublethink at the heart of the Drumcree protest. > > The decision to reroute the Orange march away from the Garvaghy > Road in 1998 filled John with 'fierce rapture'. > > 'I hope and pray Mo Mowlam will stick by what she says. The > Ulster people will be united again. If the Orange Order is > battered here, it is going to unite the people,' says John. > > 'This will be our Alamo. This'll be Custer's last stand. When the > British people see British subjects being battered on the streets > of Portadown, when they see British blood running down the faces > of the people... only looking to walk the Queen's highway, they > will think those people have the right. > > 'This will be our Bloody Sunday,' says John. > > "John carved such a martyrdom for his people," writes McKay. "He > wanted blood sacrifice, filmed and photographed. Blood to wash > away the image of Protestants as triumphalist bullies, and show > them as the true victims." > > But of course fenian blood is also on the agenda. "The little boy > stood silently listening. John ruffled his hair. He told me this > was his grandchild. 'I'm bringing him up to the gun,' he said. > 'Sing the girl a song, son. Sing her "The Billy Boys".' > > "The child stood to attention. Then he sang: "We are, we are, we > are the Billy Boys...' When he sang the line, 'We're up to our > necks in fenian blood', John grinned, patted the child on the > head, and punched the air." > > But McKay doesn't just concern herself with the active > sectarianism of the few. She is just as concerned with the > ambivalence towards sectarianism found amongst the less overt. > > 'There was more to that than meets the eye,' said the woman, 'you > wouldn't know what it was about, but there is no way it was > sectarian. This is not a sectarian town.' She was talking of the > murders of the three Quinn children, burnt to death in a loyalist > petrolbomb attack on their Ballymoney home in the early hours of > 12 July 1998. > > McKay describes the woman as "kindly, an evangelical Presbyterian > from the professional classes" and she was saying what almost > everyone else McKay had met from the Protestant community in > Ballymoney had said. > > McKay describes Ballymoney as "peaceful enough". A predominantly > Protestant town "nestled on the western edge of Paisley's Bible > belt heartland in North Antrim but "where a Catholic minority > seemed to live quietly". > > But behind the denials, there was a more sinister reality which > many people in Ballymoney refused to recognise. When the nearby > nationalist village of Dunloy objected to an Orange march through > its main street, sectarian tension rather than toleration was the > response in Ballymoney town. > > "Pastor Alan Campbell preached a sermon in the town, in which he > claimed that what was really going on in Harryville 'is the > ancient battle between the true church, Protestantism, and the > Whore, the Beast, and the Baal worshippers within Catholicism'. > > For 20 months, Orange Order supporters, protesting against the > rerouting of their parade away from Dunloy, picketed a Catholic > chapel in Harryville, Ballymena ."The picket at Harryville was > frightening," says McKay. > > "The demonstrators attacked Catholics, threw bricks through their > car windows, and on one occasion broke into a house and beat up > people in their beds. They also hurled abuse, grunted like pigs > at the worshipper, and tried to burn out both the chapel and the > priest's house in the grounds." > > Then in 1997, in the centre of Ballymoney, a loyalist mob > attacked an off-duty RUC man, Greg Taylor. The mob, a local flute > band and its supporters had recognised the RUC officer from the > barriers at Dunloy. They kicked him to death in the street. > > But "people in Ballymoney disputed the evidence about this murder > too. 'That was nothing to do with Dunloy,' said a > teacher....'there was more to that than meets the eye.' Others > said it was 'just drink'." > > Denial would also shape the people of Ballymoney's response to > the Quinns' killings a year later. Even residents living on the > same housing estate as the Quinn family deny the killings were > sectarian. > > "Josie had lived on the Carnany estate for almost 20 years and > loved it. She was angry at media coverage of the Quinn murders. > 'They made a mountain out of a molehill,' she said. 'They went > overboard. They were crawling all over the place. > > 'Now people say about Carnany. "That's a bad place." If it was, I > wouldn't be here.' The community centre ran courses and fun days > and had darts and snooker and TV for the children. On St. > Patrick's Day, 17 March, they had an Irish stew night." > > Strangely, reports McKay, "no one spoke to me in Ballymoney about > the shame or damage after the Quinn and Taylor murders. Instead, > they offered reasons for the murders. Some went to the brink of > justifying them. > > "People insisted that the murders had nothing to do with > Drumcree, nothing to do with Dunloy, nothing to do with > sectarianism, nothing to do with the Orange Order," says McKay. > > "Middle class people said that some of the people involved in the > killing of Taylor were 'from respectable families'. By contrast, > Taylor had jeopardised his own respectability. He had separated > from his wife for a time." > > Susan McKay places the dynamic of Drumcree within the wider > Protestant community. There are many dissenting voices, which > deserved equally to be heard but which I have not included in > this article. > > Ruth Dudley Edwards' vision may be coloured by her support for > the Orange Order and an anti-republican agenda, but her study > does offer some insights into the mindset of many people within > the Protestant community. > > c. RM Distribution and others. Articles may be reprinted with credit. > > =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
