Careful Now

There is an old adage: be careful what you wish for. Many unionists would like to have seen the IRA defeated 19 years ago, when the last ceasefire was announced. It didn’t happen. Likewise, many would like to see republicans wearing sack cloth and ashes. That isn’t going to happen either.

We are where we are and – imperfect though our peace is – we are in a much better place than a generation ago. Have we forgotten that only 17 years ago this month, 29 men, women and children, and two unborn babies, were killed in the worst atrocity of the Troubles, in Omagh?

The relative peace we enjoy didn’t materialise out of thin air. It had to be worked at.

The Chief Constable’s assessment last weekend that, while an infrastructure existed at a senior level of the Provisional IRA, the organisation was not on a "war footing" came as no surprise to the Secretary of State. It appears however to have astonished some unionist politicians. It also seems to have caught some nationalists by surprise and, at the same time, piqued senior republicans who had been adamant that the IRA had “left the stage” and “gone away”.

Republican assurances cut little ice now with the Ulster Unionist leader, Mike Nesbitt. That is hardly surprising.

What is hard to fathom, though, is unionist politicians’ lack of attention to some of the Chief Constable’s other ‘clarifications’: that the Provisional IRA is “committed to following a political path”; that it is “no longer engaged in terrorism”; that the IRA “does not exist for paramilitary purposes”.

Moreover, the Sinn Féin president could hardly have been more forthright in his condemnation of whoever shot Kevin McGuigan dead. They were “criminals”, Gerry Adams suggested – in language he would never have used of IRA members.

Surely such statements should be a source of relief, if not necessarily a cause for celebration? Instead, we see unionists of various hues searching high and low for an allegation, a word, a nuance – anything that might justify withdrawal from the power-sharing government.

Imagine for a moment that the IRA had gone away – completely, and to unionists’ satisfaction – in 1996. What do people believe would have happened? Where would IRA members have gone? Would they have kept faith with a political process which has left everyone feeling short-changed?

Conflict resolution and peace-building are complicated, especially when there is no clear ‘winner’. We need look no farther back than a recent war in the Middle East where – following Iraq’s defeat – the precipitate dismantling of military, police and governance institutions led to anarchy and chaos. Peace processes have to be managed.

The last thing Northern Ireland needed in 1996 – or indeed needs now – is hundreds of highly committed, highly trained former IRA members seeking some outlet, other than a peaceful one, for their disaffection. How, other than with some lingering infrastructure – a command chain of sorts – can former combatants be kept ‘on message’ and ‘onside’?

The late Nobel Laureate, Seamus Heaney, captured mid-seventies Northern Ireland brilliantly, in his poem ‘Whatever You Say, Say Nothing’:

                                            “O land of password, handgrip, wink and nod,

                                             Of open minds as open as a trap,

                                             Where tongues lie coiled as under flames lie wicks”. 

Heaney’s words seem as relevant today as they did forty years ago.

No one likes doing ‘nod-and-wink’ politics but, in the real world, there is a chasmic difference between politicking and realpolitik. Had it not been for ‘back channels’ and secret contacts between previous governments and the IRA we would all still be stuck in a morass of violence. The supposed naivete of some politicians nowadays is truly breath-taking.

When the Independent Commission for the Location of Victims’ Remains liaised with intermediaries, who did people think those intermediaries were talking to? Why would any IRA volunteer – former or current – risk imprisonment in cooperating with the search for the Disappeared other than on foot of an order?

Nineteen years after the last IRA ceasefire and seventeen after the Good Friday Agreement, we still have no sense that our political institutions have taken root or confidence that the peace will endure.

It will be interesting in the coming weeks to see whether the DUP will follow the UUP’s lead by leaving the Executive, how the SDLP will respond (although it’s difficult to envisage them ignoring the ‘positives’ in the Chief Constable’s assessment), and who lines up alongside the Ulster Unionists in any new ‘Opposition’.

The people who will be most satisfied with the latest developments will be the TUV and republican dissidents, both of whom will be able to say, “We told you so.”

Mike Nesbitt was shrewd enough to secure the unanimous support of his MLA Group, the party’s one MEP and two MPs for today’s move, as well as of senior representatives of his Councillors’ Association and the party chairman. His initiative has undoubtedly wrong-footed the DUP.

But, how wise is his gambit, when viewed strategically? Mr Nesbitt insists today’s move is a principled one, in response to the murder of Kevin McGuigan. Nationalists and republicans have scented hypocrisy, though, pointing to the differing ways he treats republican and loyalist representatives who have been linked to groups implicated in murders.

The Ulster Unionist leader says he believes the situation “can be fixed” but for that to happen requires “some clarity about the IRA and its command structure”. Clarity from whom – the PSNI, Sinn Féin, the IRA? And in what form – a statement, a gesture, sack cloth and ashes?

The Secretary of State now has a big call to make. Tomorrow the DUP will remind her of the “responsibilities she has to punish any party that is found to be in breach of their commitments to exclusively peaceful and democratic means”. Ms Villiers confirmed only two days ago that her “understanding” was very much in line with the Chief Constable’s (Mr Hamilton has already accepted the bona fides of the Sinn Féin leadership). She said she was satisfied for the moment that all parties in the Northern Ireland Executive were supportive of the principles of democracy and consent.

Northern Ireland is barren territory for politicians but fertile ground for poets. ‘Peace comes dropping slow’, WB Yeats wrote, in his most famous poem, The Lake Isle of Innisfree. We could not have imagined how slowly it would come here.

Be careful what you wish for.

A Matter of Choice

The Irish literary giant, George Bernard Shaw, wryly observed: “Put an Irishman on the spit and you can always find another Irishman to turn him.” His remark came to mind as Stormont MLAs debated the ill-fated Welfare Reform Bill earlier this week.

The inability of our various politicians to reach agreement on such a crucial issue has exasperated the public. And MLAs’ frustration with each other exploded in sniping recrimination on The Nolan Show the following evening, when even the normally even-tempered Roy Beggs became animated and agitated. The East Londonderry MP and MLA Gregory Campbell put up by far the most impressive performance, jabbing at his nationalist opponents and even locking horns with a woman in the audience. So, how come I’m not convinced by the DUP’s case?

Well, first of all, it’s not the DUP’s case. The DUP voted against the Conservatives’ welfare agenda at Westminster and argued for local mitigating measures in their dealings with the last government. Remarkably, Stormont’s largest party have since become the most vocal cheerleaders for welfare ‘reform’ and, in the process, the debate here has degenerated into one of ‘Orange versus Green’.

The DUP would have us believe their conversion was a matter of realpolitik. This is, we shouldn’t forget, an ideological battle between right and left. But it is also about right and wrong.

What has disappointed me has been the failure of many opponents of the Welfare Reform Bill to present any persuasive case against it. That has resulted in the perverse spectacle of some people – who will quite possibly bear the brunt of George Osborne’s so-called ‘reforms’ – defending his policies.

There is so much wrong with the Tory case that I hardly know where to begin. For starters, the idea of being lectured about fiscal probity and financial rectitude by people who have struggled with their parliamentary expenses beggars belief. 

Those who’ve swallowed the Conservative line have coined a new cliche – the “money-tree” – with which to belittle opponents. Would this be the same money tree, I wonder, which Amazon and Starbucks scrumped off for years? And we’ve had the usual off-stage mutterings from Tory supporters about the “need to live within our means”. These people really should be given a mirror.

Osborne’s brutal assault on welfare is being presented as ‘the only option’ when, in fact, it was – and remains – a choice. It is a very deliberate choice. I can’t make up my mind whether the DUP’s change of heart is a surrender or a genuine conversion.

There is no gainsaying the challenging state of the UK finances. It is true, too, that there is only so much money “in the kitty”. Demand is infinite while resources are finite. But that requires decisions to be made about how those limited resources are to be spent; how outstanding resources – unpaid taxes – are to be collected; which parts of our public services deserve to be protected; and which people should be expected to shoulder the burden.

In a very crude way, the choice is between targeting the rich or the poor.

Osborne has opted for the latter. He has trained his sights on the one million people on zero-hours contracts and the one million who eat out of food banks, rather than on the rich and the mega-rich. People like Harriet Green – the former Thomas Cook boss who will get an estimated £10m bonus this summer – must be laughing all way to the bank. And don’t start me on bankers.

The choice is between targeting those on benefits or those in mansions.

Benefit fraud costs the state about £1.2bn a year (less than the £1.5bn of benefits which go unclaimed by people entitled to them). In the year to April 2013 the ‘tax gap’ – the difference between the estimated tax owed and the amount actually collected – was £34bn. Coincidentally, in 2013 Amazon paid around £4.2m in tax in the UK, despite racking up more than £4bn in sales here.

The choice is between targeting welfare or warfare.

Can a UK – which has to “live within its means” – afford to replace a weapons system it will almost certainly never deploy? The Trident nuclear weapon system will cost an estimated £100bn over 30 years if MPs decide to replace it. One Labour MP has dismissed it as “a useless, hugely expensive virility symbol which will never be used”.

Our hospitals certainly will be used over the next 30 years. So will our schools and universities, our roads and railways. The list goes on. And so will the hardship.

Make no mistake: this debate is about choice. It would have been remarkable if – having campaigned so vigorously against the Tories’ welfare ‘reform’ plans recently – Sinn Féin and the SDLP had then chosen to implement them. Their supporters, and the victims, would have been outraged. Remember what Nelson Mandela said: “Where you stand depends on where you sit”.

With welfare ‘reform’ here paralysed (for the moment), our Executive deadlocked and Stormont in crisis again, the Secretary of State has entered the fray. America fought a revolution over ‘taxation without representation’. Here, we’re going to suffer devastation at the hands of a government whose entire mandate in Northern Ireland could fit comfortably into Windsor Park (even with its reduced capacity).

That’s what I call a democratic deficit. You have to admire Theresa Villiers’ chutzpah, though, coming in to administer Conservative rule in the most Tory-repellent region of the UK.

So what happens next? I haven’t the foggiest idea. We still don’t know the full extent of welfare ‘reform’. That may become clear on July 8^th when the Chancellor delivers his emergency budget, with its expected £12bn in additional welfare cuts. The Twelfth week is shaping up to be even more interesting than usual.

With our politicians getting twitchy (an improvement on apoplectic), Mrs Villiers is cautioning against any rush to judgement. We all need to “reflect carefully” on the way forward, she suggests. Will ‘careful reflection’ persuade her to snatch welfare powers back from Stormont, possibly precipitating the collapse of the Stormont institutions? Your guess is as good as mine.

I will leave you with one final thought. Three years after the Second World War had ended – while the UK economy was in severe difficulty and rationing was still in place – the British government founded the National Health Service. There would have been many, I’m sure, who would have counselled against it and claimed it was unaffordable.

On careful reflection, though, it was the right thing to do. Yes it has proved costly (it continues to devour resources), but it has been – and remains – something worth protecting, a price worth paying. Established in the most challenging of times and in the most difficult of circumstances, the NHS was a tangible statement about the kind of society we should aspire to: a compassionate one, a more civilised one, a fairer one.

Hard though it is to believe, right now, we can still achieve that. That’s real aspiration. It’s a matter of choice.

As regards George Bernard Shaw’s spit-roasted Irishman, it would seem that on this occasion – just like ‘The Lady’ – some Irishmen and women are not for turning.     

Blindingly Obvious

Whatever Nigel Farage’s qualities, his major flaw, according to UKIP colleague Patrick O’Flynn, is that he has become “a snarling, thin-skinned, aggressive man”. That perception didn’t deter almost four million people from voting for UKIP at the recent general election.

On first reading, it was a far more successful election for the SDLP leader Alasdair McDonnell. His party managed to retain its three Westminster seats – three times as many as UKIP – but Dr McDonnell’s reward has been a determined heave against his leadership.

If there’s one charge you cannot lay against him it is that of being thin-skinned. The South Belfast MP must have a hide like a rhinoceros to insist on clinging onto the SDLP leadership after this week’s assaults on his authority.

The party which prides itself on its contribution to the peace process now finds itself embroiled in a civil war. McDonnell has spurned Seamus Mallon’s advice to resign as quickly as possible – “it would be good for him and good for the party” – opting instead to hang on and dig in.

Dr McDonnell insists the vast majority of SDLP members want him to remain as leader. That is a dubious claim in view of the personalities arrayed against him – Claire Hanna, John Dallat, Mallon, Brid Rodgers and now Mark Durkan. In any case, support within the party is irrelevant. It’s the electorate who count.  

No one can take away what McDonnell has achieved in the three and a half years he has been at the helm: reorganisation; an influx of young new blood; more women. But one issue cropped up time and time again for SDLP canvassers during the Westminster campaign: their party’s leader. The ‘bull in a china shop’ has become an issue for potential voters.

Dr McDonnell is right about one thing – this is not “a silly personality contest or beauty contest”. It’s far more important than that. It is now a battle for the very future of the SDLP. As Councillor Hanna pointed out: “This is a ‘do or die’; it’s ‘fight or flight’ for the SDLP for the next twelve months”.

I suspect Hanna is being optimistic about the timeframe. Her party faces another election in less than a year and cannot afford to go into that campaign led by a man who has been criticised so publicly by so many of his colleagues.

Former leader Mark Durkan told the BBC programme, The View, last night that people wanted to see the DUP-Sinn Féin leadership at Stormont challenged in “a cogent, competent way, in a passionate way”. That is a withering, implicit criticism of McDonnell’s stewardship.

The party has to define what it stands for now. Should it remain tethered to an Executive which treats it with such disrespect? Should it be inextricably linked to budgets of which it is so critical? Would it be more credible and more popular in an opposition role at Stormont? These are huge issues which need to be resolved – quickly.

The Antrim Glens man had an embarrassing first party conference as leader when he was dazzled by the conference hall lights during his leader’s address. Those who care about him should hope he won’t be blind or deaf now to the personalities and voices urging him to go. 

Claire Hanna is correct. This does look like 'do or die' for the SDLP. The patient is in poor shape. I wonder what a doctor would prescribe?

It's People Crunching, Not Number Crunching

Rarely can a trip across the Irish Sea to deal with a Stormont crisis have seemed as appealing to a British prime minister as this week’s must to David Cameron. His meetings with the warring parties on ‘the hill’ will offer a brief respite from the bloodletting back at Westminster where – quite apart from his battle with Labour – his coalition partners have now turned on him and begun rubbishing his Chancellor’s sums.

The critics would seem to have a point. George Osborne’s figures have been so far off the mark, they could have been driven by Mark Thatcher.

For a party which prides itself on its business acumen, it’s made a poor fist of affairs. As Ed Balls pointed out, the government will have borrowed over £200bn more during its lifetime than it planned in 2010. That is precisely the kind of behaviour the Conservatives derided their Labour predecessors for.

And now Mr Osborne is demanding movement on the cuts to Welfare. He calls it “reform”, but that is sophistry. The Tories are less concerned with number crunching than people crunching. And you don’t have to be a genius to know that the effects will be disastrous here.

It was a predecessor of Mr Cameron’s (and possibly one of his heroes), the late Baroness Thatcher, who famously said that Northern Ireland was as British as Finchley. Yet a research paper, presented to MPs in October, provided evidence to the contrary.

The paper examined unemployment throughout the UK’s 650 parliamentary constituencies. Remarkably, it showed that in terms of finding work, Northern Ireland boasted three of the five worst. Foyle was top of the list, of course; West Belfast was second; and North Belfast fifth (for good measure, West Tyrone weighed in at 8^th). Finchley and Golders Green – the object of Baroness Thatcher’s comparison – was 359^th on the list. The Prime Minister’s Witney constituency was 623^rd.

Foyle was top of the heap, too, for youth unemployment – among 18-24 year olds – with the two Belfast constituencies also making the top six; and all three featured in the top six for long-term unemployment.

So when Mr Cameron arrives here this afternoon, from the opposite end of the economic spectrum, someone will have to explain to him that – despite what he may have been told – Northern Ireland is not as British as Finchley. He won’t, of course, have any idea what life is really like here (I can’t imagine there was a ‘free meal queue’ at Eton). But it is the responsibility of our politicians – all of them – to put him in the picture; after all, they are paid – and ‘expensed’ – to represent us.

They might choose to remind him of his joint pledge with Nick Clegg, in their 2010 Programme for Government, to “support sustainable growth and enterprise, balanced across all regions and all industries”.

That plainly hasn’t happened. And as if that dismal record wasn’t bad enough, George Osborne now plans to heap even more misery upon us. This is unusually sadistic – even for a Tory.

The DUP’s “No more money” mantra seems to have changed in recent days. The party appears to have accepted the need for some kind of financial package, not merely to lubricate the wheels of government but to keep the vehicle on the road.

Nobody wants a car crash at Stormont – not the DUP; not Sinn Féin; not the Irish government and certainly not the British. Unlikely as it may seem, Stormont has been touted around the world as an inspiration to societies trying to emerge from conflict. David Cameron will not want to go down in history as the Prime Minister on whose watch it juddered to a halt.

As any student of Irish history will tell you, “England’s difficulty is Ireland’s opportunity” and Cameron’s arrival does, indeed, present precisely that: an opportunity. While we might not have everyone singing off the same hymn sheet, we do – unusually – have most of the main parties humming in some kind of unison.

The DUP can behave coyly, with a general election just around the corner and the Tories possibly needing their votes; Republicans can play hardball, reminding Mr Cameron of Britain’s responsibility for what happened here (that’s a part of Legacy that seems to have slipped from Westminster minds and spending plans). We have been left with appalling levels of ill health – both mental and physical – deprivation and poverty.

It would require a major move on the Prime Minister’s part to cut a special deal over the North. But he rose to the occasion – rhetorically, at least – over Bloody Sunday. And in that programme for government, he and Nick Clegg emphasised their preparedness to turn old thinking on its head.

Mr Cameron wrote in this morning’s Belfast Telegraph that he was determined to do everything he could to help “resolve the outstanding issues and secure agreement”. Let’s put him to the test.

The proof of the pudding will be in the eating. The next few days should tell whether we get our just desserts. 

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.