A Word in their Ear

“The Orange Order, of course, has every right to stage its march. But for the sake of order, and our nation's image before the world, it should desist.”

These are not my words, nor are they a reference to the controversial Twelfth parade past Ardoyne shops. They were penned by a leader writer at Scotland’s Sunday Herald, about a march due to take place in Edinburgh shortly before September’s independence referendum.

Still, the advice might be even more applicable to their brethren in North Belfast.

The clock-watchers have been chipping in to the debate, estimating that Saturday’s banned homeward leg by the Ligoniel lodges would take only six minutes to complete. No big deal, they say. Why all the fuss?

Why indeed?

If the march is, as they would have it, no big deal, why withdraw from a talks initiative over it? Why draw up a protest campaign against it? Why unite with political opponents over it? Why make common cause with parties linked to paramilitary groups over it? Why heighten tension and spread fear over it?

No big deal? Actions – or more accurately reactions – speak louder than words.

Unionist politicians have struck discordant notes in the days since their “graduated response” to the Parades Commission’s determination was announced. Arlene Foster told yesterday’s Good Morning Ulster programme that she was “very clear” what the graduated response was.  Just over an hour later, her party colleague Gregory Campbell told Stephen Nolan that they didn’t know what was going to happen: “...We don’t know how these things will play out.” For the first time in my recollection, the right hand didn’t know what the right hand was doing.

I suspect things may play out rather badly.

In its determination last week, the Parades Commission seemed to suggest that the reaction to last year’s ruling – “such as the call by some within the Orange Order to protest against the July 2013 determination, a protest which culminated in violence...” – influenced last Thursday’s decision. In terms of next year’s attempt to complete the homeward leg to Ligoniel, the Orange Order and the collective Unionist leadership may already have shot themselves in the foot.

While politicians have been delivering mixed messages about the sinister-sounding “graduated response”, they’re not nearly as confused as the so-called rationale underpinning this latest campaign.

Nowadays, Unionist ‘culture’ is expressed overwhelmingly through flags, parades and bonfires. We’re asked to believe that this culture is under threat but evidence suggests otherwise. Only last week, a study by Queen’s University reported that the number of parades here had more than doubled in the eight years up until 2013. The number of Union, Ulster, loyalist paramilitary and even Ku Klux Klan flags flying here would keep a small army of seamstresses busy round the clock. And bonfire towers climb so high into the air that you can barely make out whose image is being burned. The collaboration of parties, four of whom were cutting lumps out of one another only a couple of months ago, makes the situation ‘curiouser and curiouser’.

Unionist leaders have spouted some rubbish to justify their “graduated response”. Acknowledging a threat to the institutions, Peter Robinson pointed the finger at the Parades Commission. By the same logic a motorist might blame the Highway Code after being caught speeding.

Most bizarre of all has been the pretence that this is all being done to channel justifiable anger and protect democracy. Normally, at this point, children in the audience cry out, “Look behind you.”

If Unionist leaders do turn around, they’ll see people linked to groups which brought terror to communities like Ardoyne. They make strange bedfellows.

The Ligoniel controversy is not simply about a 6 minute march. It’s about 40 years of history. Or 100 years. How long have you got?

Shrewder Orangemen in Scotland would do their brethren here a big favour if they called them on the ‘QT’ and advised them to desist at Ligoniel – for the sake of order and their nation. 

Less Bang for our Buck

This morning’s explosion at the Everglades Hotel caused extensive damage to the business’s reception area but I fear the damage to Derry’s reputation is even more severe. Those trying to attract tourists to the area must be deeply frustrated. Those trying to attract jobs and investment must despair.

The people most directly affected by the attack included family members preparing for a funeral today; guests with medical needs (which heroic hotel staff still managed to meet); and ordinary Derry people enjoying a night out. This was an attack not just on a hotel, but on the people of Derry, and visitors from elsewhere. I haven’t even mentioned people who were in the vicinity while the device was being manufactured and transported.

Ironically, while the bombers were preparing their assault, I was attending an event in the city at which respected local dramatist, Dave Duggan, was launching his latest play, ‘Denizen’, in which the fictitious last dissident republican is challenged to lay down his arms. In a further irony, at precisely the same time, people who helped make City of Culture 2013 such a success for Derry were being fêted at the Northern Ireland Tourism Awards.

It is obvious that the vast, vast majority of Derry people disapprove of what happened at the Everglades in the early hours. This kind of activity has the support of only a minority – a tiny minority – who are either unaware of, or even worse indifferent to, the impact of continuing bomb attacks on Derry’s reputation. Take it from me: this explosion will have a negligible ‘military’ impact but serious economic consequences.

The time has long passed for an end to these attacks, if they ever should have happened in the first place. I don’t pretend that Derry doesn’t have problems; there are many, endemic unemployment being the most pressing. But bombings won’t solve them. Clever politics will.

We, as Derry people, need to send out a message – to the bombers and to the world – that attacks like this morning’s are not done in our name. Ours is a great city, a friendly city; we have much to offer, given half a chance. Support us as we try to build a better future for all our citizens – young and old, of all traditions, of all religions and none.

I am delighted to see that Sunday’s Walled City Marathon is expected to start, as planned, at the Everglades Hotel. That would be a fitting response to those who damage our reputation and jeopardise our future. The task of building that better future is itself a marathon. It starts here. It starts now.

And some advice for the bombers: not in my name.

  

Spoilt for Choice

My friend and occasional colleague, Alex Kane, makes an interesting contribution to a debate which is exercising the minds of more and more potential electors at the moment: whether or not to vote in next month’s elections.

Alex has already decided: he won’t. He sees no point. He doesn’t believe that casting his vote in the local government and European parliament polls would make any difference and he’s not prepared to endorse what he calls “the travesty that passes itself off as government here”.

That is his right and his choice. But it is a fairly bleak pronouncement on the state of politics here. I can almost imagine Alex donning a black cap before penning his judgement.

I, on the other hand, will exercise my franchise in both next month’s contests. Voting is a privilege that people have fought for and won.

“Democracy”, Winston Churchill said, “is the worst form of government, except for all those others that have been tried.” Our assembly has been doing its utmost to live down to that expectation. No one, not even its fiercest advocate, would suggest that it has been a rip-roaring success. Ripping – occasionally; roaring – frequently; but successful? Hardly. Its mere survival is often cited as its greatest achievement.

But, like it or loathe it, it is all we have. And using our votes – even by spoiling them – is the only democratic recourse left for people who want to bring about change. (They also, of course, have the option of standing as candidates, as I myself did unsuccessfully in 2010, although few will do so.)

Alex is correct to state that there are many people who yearn for something more from our politicians. The ‘bread and butter’ part is easy; we all want more job creation, greater prosperity, improved health care, quality education, more effective services and better infrastructure.

It’s trickier, though, when we consider the constitutional issue. For some a united Ireland is the ultimate goal; for others that is anathema. And it becomes more complicated when we toss in related matters like the past, parades, flags and emblems – issues that will have seasoned envoys hurrying to catch the first plane out of here. They, at least, have that option.     

For many of us who have to stay, there’s the faint hope that something better might be in the offing. Alex argues that change might come about “when the Assembly, and councils and MPs are clearly seen not to represent a majority of the electorate”.

If – as Alex speculates might be the case – more than half the electorate decide not to vote, that would be a crushing indictment of the parties here. It would, he suggests, weaken the parties, strip them of authority and undermine their claim to speak on behalf of the people of Northern Ireland. But he’s wrong to think that the parties – certainly the bigger ones – would be weakened or stripped of their authority in such circumstances.

Voters staying at home would actually suit some parties, especially those with the best-organized political machines. And a low turn-out would be dismissed as “apathy”, with blame placed on members of the public who “couldn’t be bothered” to vote. I do not believe that a low turn-out would change parties’ behaviour dramatically.

A spoilt vote is different. A spoilt vote is a statement. To get up off one’s backside, leave the telly, go to a polling station and cast a ballot cannot be dismissed as apathy. It delivers a more withering verdict on parties and candidates than abstaining, and is a much more effective protest.

I am certainly not advocating that people should spoil their votes. Every elector has the right to decide what to do with his or her ballot paper. If there are candidates or parties they like, or whose policies they admire, I urge voters to give them their support. The priority is to be counted.

For the whole electorate here, voting is a privilege and a right. For some it is a responsibility. In other parts of the world, though, it is only an aspiration.

A vote is precious. Use it.

Wheel of Fortune

Final preparations are being made to ‘the Derry Eye’, the big Ferris wheel which will briefly dominate the Ebrington skyline and offer a new perspective on the UK’s first city of culture. From Friday, for a £3 fee and from140 feet up, the less faint-hearted will get an exhilarating view of one of the most historic cities in Ireland. (You can, by the way, get a similarly stunning view for free, on terra firma, at nearby Gobnascale).

The Giant Wheel will no doubt be a big draw for locals and visitors alike, but one wonders whether it is an attraction or a distraction. The same site hosted a circus recently and last Christmas it was home to a skating rink. As the ancient Roman empire declined, the satirist, Juvenal, observed that ‘panem et circenses’ – bread and circuses – were the last remaining aspirations of a once great population. Has Derry embarked on a similar path?

It is ironic that the Giant Wheel is being erected on a site managed by Ilex – the urban regeneration company aiming to deliver the “best regeneration any city on these islands has ever seen”. Ilex deserves some praise for Derry’s physical renewal but its economic impact – in admittedly challenging times – has been far less obvious.

April’s new unemployment statistics brought further evidence of how badly Derry lags behind the rest of Northern Ireland. The number claiming Jobseeker’s Allowance in the Strand ward finally crashed through the 20% barrier. A frightening 20.1% of its working age population are now ‘signing on’. The Diamond follows close on its tail – at 19.1%.

Derry has five of the top seven highest claimant rates for council wards. The claimant count for the council area as a whole is 8.4% – well above the Northern Ireland average of 4.9% and far ahead of Northern Ireland’s lowest, Castlereagh (2.9%). Factor in an inactivity rate well above the Northern Ireland average and we are witnessing a deepening economic crisis. Yet the talk almost everywhere else, it seems, is of “recovery”.

Even allowing for the redundancies announced in Belfast on Tuesday, it was still a good day for the city. The software company, Vello Systems, confirmed that 15 jobs were to go, but the IT firm, Novosco, revealed that it was creating 50 new posts at its offices in the Belfast Science Park – a net gain for the city of almost three dozen high value jobs. It would be churlish to begrudge them.

On the very same day, though, there was more bad news for Derry. While Enterprise Minister Arlene Foster – looking radiant in pink – beamed proudly on a tour of Novosco’s offices at Queen’s Island, staff at two workplaces in the second city were bracing themselves for the worst. Nine posts are going at City of Derry Airport (how’s that for a vote of confidence in the region’s economic future?) and another 20 are in danger at the Lough Swilly bus company.

I would love to take our MLAs – all 108 of them – cram them into the Giant Wheel’s pods, and make them spin round and round until they realise their duty to the people living in the streets below. It would provide welcome respite from the current grind of canvassing and, in any case, they seem to enjoy going round in circles. They’re certainly comfortable surviving in their own wee bubbles, cut off from the rest of the world.

The local councillor who was attacked by a dog while canvassing this week should get used to the experience. It’ll be surprising if more politicians aren’t savaged on doorsteps over the next month or so. Cave canem. Beware of the dog. And beware of the voter.  

Angling for a Deal

Ordinarily you’d be disappointed, if not insulted, to find a “Gone Fishing” sign hanging from the doorknob of an office you’d called at. Today, though, it might be a welcome sign.

On Saturday, the chair of the Panel of Parties in the NI Executive, Dr Richard Haass, warned talks participants that the time had come to “either fish or...cut bait”. Most onlookers are hoping they opt for the former. There’ll be dreadful disappointment – although little real shock – if the Stormont fishing party wind up hauling in their nets and lamenting the ‘one that got away’.

The seasoned foreign policy expert Haass and his high-achieving vice-chair, Professor Meghan O’Sullivan, have been around enough diplomatic corners to know that success at the all-party talks should not be taken for granted. When it comes to corners, the Northern Ireland political scene is like a Rubik’s Cube – except even harder to solve.

If the Americans are frustrated at the lack of progress to date, they’ve been careful not to show it. It is inconceivable, though, that by the end of their ocean-hopping stint – should success elude them – they will keep their exasperation to themselves. Two such well-connected mediators have access to the corridors of power back home where, one assumes, their final report will be carefully dissected.

Among the more interesting recent interventions – possibly a ratcheting-up of pressure on the locals – was Sunday’s statement from the US National Security Council. Noting that the Belfast talks had reached a “critical juncture”, NSC spokeswoman Caitlin Hayden called upon “the leadership of the five parties to make the compromises necessary to conclude an agreement now, one that would help heal the divisions that continue to stand between the people of Northern Ireland and the future they deserve."

Ms Hayden’s statement didn’t come ‘out of the blue’. As far back as three months ago, Vice-President Joe Biden “reiterated U.S. support for independent chair Richard Haass and the all-party talks”. He also pledged the United States’ “continuing commitment to support Northern Ireland’s progress toward a united community and shared future”. The Haass initiative clearly enjoys Barack Obama’s imprimatur. If it fails, the President and his advisors will want to know why (the mediators’ allocation of blame in such circumstances would make interesting reading).

Those wondering what continuing US support looks like need only take a train ride into Belfast.  The journey from the north, meandering among glistening downtown office towers, testifies to the transformative effects American investment has already had on the city. Consider how Belfast might look if that tap was to be turned off.

Martin McGuinness suggested at the weekend that it would be “a humiliation” if Dr Haass and Professor O'Sullivan “left here...against the backdrop of no agreement". If anything, the Deputy-First Minister may have been understating the seriousness of such an outcome: a failure to agree could have severe diplomatic and economic consequences.

Politics is often portrayed as the art of the possible. Realpolitik, though, is the art of the practical. Failure to close a deal now would be interpreted as a snub back in Washington (with possible repercussions) and – being practical – can we afford that?

The former US President Theodore Roosevelt employed an old African proverb to characterise his foreign policy: “Speak softly and carry a big stick”. As the clock runs down on the Haass initiative, its chair and vice-chair have – outwardly at least – maintained a diplomatic silence; but, in the absence of any visible ‘big stick’ from the Americans, one wonders if we’re creating a rod for our own backs.

The American comedian Steven Wright reckons “there’s a fine line between fishing and standing on the shore looking like an idiot”. I wonder if – after the all-party talks – the joke will be on us.

They Think It's All Over

The hype surrounding their unveiling was extravagant. Their arrival has been hailed – nervously one suspects – as heralding “a new dawn”. True, they carry the hopes of an expectant nation. But nobody in their wildest dreams imagined that this particular combination of ‘talents’ – of men who played under rival flags – could foretell a period of success. As Jimmy Greaves frequently said, though: “Football is a funny old game.”

One is an introspective, cerebral man, a thinker who learned at the knee of one of the giants of the game. His mentor was unconventional and outrageous, but undeniably successful, taking a provincial, backward outfit, and fashioning them into a slick, all-conquering powerhouse. The pupil learned well, graduating as a sophisticated, cultured proponent of the finer arts, an astute reader of games, alert to opportunities, always ready with the killer pass that would undo the opposition and put rivals to the sword.

The other is a more private individual, celebrated more perhaps for brute force and iron will than for skill or technique. Throughout his career, though, he could be relied upon to get stuck in where and when it hurt, and he’d never ask a colleague to do something he wouldn’t do himself. Many a time – in white hot cauldrons of battle – we saw him with our own eyes stiffening the resolve of those who stood behind him.

Both men carry the scars of battle and the medals of achievement, but as a management pairing, is their alliance the stuff of dreams or does it have the makings of a nightmare? The game is wholly different depending on where you view it from – the pitch or the dug-out.

For the moment, the pair will get away with posturing for the cameras and swatting away journalists’ questions, but long-term – if their partnership is to work – the two will have to trust one another, lean on one another, modify their behaviour and learn a new skill – the art of compromise.

Whether two such dogmatic people as Peter Robinson and Martin McGuinness are capable of accommodation remains to be seen. When they played, it wasn’t the taking part which mattered but winning: victory was everything. The sport has moved on though. Can fans on the terraces – who regard trade-offs as sell-outs – be taught to appreciate the modern game, in which the objective is not a win but a ‘win-win’?

One thing’s for sure: it’s going to be a roller-coaster of a ride. Dream or nightmare? Time will tell. It’s a funny old game. 

Living Downstream

The announcement that the American firm, Stream, is creating almost a thousand new jobs in East Belfast will take some of the heat off at least one local MLA, the beleaguered First Minister Peter Robinson. His party has been rattled by allegations – from some of the most strident voices in the loyalist community – of ‘neglect’ of working class Protestant areas. The jobs-boost will quieten those critics for a while, although I doubt whether Mr Robinson will be given much long-term credit by his ‘in-house’ detractors.

While welcomed on Laganside, news of the expansion was received with stunned and perplexed disbelief in Derry, where people feel like they’ve been mugged.

It’s ironic that one Programme for Government commitment – concerning the Maze-Long Kesh project – is regarded as a deal-breaker, while another “addressing regional imbalance as we move ahead” – is not. It really has come to a sorry pass when the only people even talking about the need to “rebalance” the economy are the Tories, and their “semi-detached” Secretary of State Theresa Villiers.  

Stream used to run a substantial call centre in Derry, at one point employing up to one thousand people. What a coincidence. The operation there began to stutter around the time the downturn hit, finally giving up the ghost in 2011. The company now maintains a spectral presence of only 15 staff in Derry. The whiff of rodent is almost over-powering.

I’ve no doubt that most people in East Belfast will say that “Londonderry” should take its oil. But the revelation that the East Belfast jobs deal was lubricated by £3m of Invest Northern Ireland cash makes the announcement that bit harder to swallow in the North West, where unemployment – once endemic – now feels like a contagion. It is frightening that in August – two thirds of the way through its stint as UK City of Culture – there were more people signing on in Derry than at the end of last year.

Among them, I assume, were people who worked for Stream in the past. I have no doubt that they are still perfectly capable of doing so. The company’s reasons for developing its Belfast operation sound unconvincing. I can think of three million better ones.  

Executive ministers must have racked up frequent-flyer bonuses aplenty as they traversed the globe – from Brazil to China – trying to drum up business. If investors in far-off Rio and Beijing can be induced to commit to Northern Ireland, then why can’t they be encouraged to go the extra mile (well, 75 miles, actually), and locate in the North West? If there are logistical, or infrastructural, or skills-deficit barriers to such investment, then why aren’t these being tackled? What of the other PfG commitment to “develop the ‘One Plan’ for the regeneration of Derry/Londonderry”?

There has been much talk, on both sides of the Assembly floor, of the need to build a “shared” future. In the Stormont bubble, that energy has been concentrated exclusively on our very narrow definition of ‘culture’. It should be applied with even more fervour, and much greater urgency, to economic development.

I will watch with interest to see how Stream develops its Northern Ireland operation in future; in which constituencies it creates new jobs; and how INI supports it. I will, of course, apply the same level of scrutiny to other economic development as well, with equal fervour.

Politics here is becoming so reminiscent of the sixties that I fear I’m starting to see things only in black and white. Sometimes, though, monochrome provides the clearest view.