How a history of tensions manifests itself: the case of Northern Ireland
Kertu Niit
Student of International Relations and Regional Studies in Skytte
Each year the students of International Relations and Regional Studies have the chance to register for an elective course called Practical Field Research in the Conflict Areas. The course takes place in the form of a study trip, supported by seminars beforehand to grasp the necessary basics of the conflict before delving into the specifcs on-site. This year, the course took us to Northern Ireland, to understand the history of the Troubles and implications it has brought to the communities to this day.
After arriving to Northern Ireland, I was most surprised by Belfast itself. The city felt like a living museum, where history was not just told but seen and felt in the urban landscape. During our walking tour of the city, I was taken aback by the murals and infrastructure that still carry the conflict, such as the barbed-wire-topped walls and the iconic murals that display a range of political messages. The physical separation of the communities by peace walls and highways after the conflict felt eerie in a way, as if the past was still present in these barriers. I kept thinking about how the new generations grow up in this environment, seeing the remnants of division every day. When you have not experienced conflict yourself, the peace walls can create the feeling of an “other” behind them, even though the social processes themselves seem to move towards the integration of the two communities. Yet, the walls remain, as reminders of a fragile peace and unresolved tensions.
The day trip to Derry, combined with the lectures on (Northern) Irish history, provided much-needed context to grasp the deep-rooted nature of the Troubles. The museums in Derry offered a fascinating window into the different perspectives of the conflict, each with a distinct narrative. The James Connolly House Museum, for example, presented a unique perspective on the Irish nationalist movement, showcasing admiration for figures like Che Guevara and expressing clear support for the Soviet Union. This unapologetic alignment with leftist ideologies was surprising, offering a stark contrast to more mainstream nationalist views. In contrast, museums aligned with unionist perspectives were more discreet in their presentation. At the Siege Museum, we could watch videos of the Orange Order marches, read stories of figures like the traitor Lundy, and even purchase Union Jack souvenirs. While more subtle in its messaging, the museum still highlighted a particular view of history, emphasizing the legacy of British unionism. These experiences illustrated how both sides of the conflict continue to shape narratives, even in the way they preserve and present their history.
Personally, I feel like I oversimplified the two communities before arriving in Belfast. I initially approached the conflict through a narrow lens, thinking mainly about the religious divide without fully appreciating the layers of identity and allegiance that shaped each side. I was more focused on the Catholic-Protestant divide than anything else, assuming that religion was the primary line of separation. Even though the readings focused also on the political and social divides, I still saw it mostly as a conflict between Catholics and Protestants. After arriving in Belfast, I quickly learned to add two other dimensions. Seeing the sides of the conflict as Catholic/Nationalist/Republican and Protestant/Loyalist/Unionist made me understand the complexities better. This multidimensional perspective revealed how different histories, political goals, and cultural affiliations interact to shape the identities of each community, and how these distinctions persist even after the peace process.
We also learned about the distinctions in how the two sides are labeled, revealing the nuances often overlooked in common discourse. While the terms Protestant/Loyalist/Unionist and Catholic/Nationalist/Republican are frequently grouped together, they do not always align perfectly with people's identities. For instance, not all Catholics identify as Republicans, and many Unionists reject being labeled as Loyalists, despite the fact that Unionist leaders often present themselves as such. Among the general Unionist population, the term "Loyalist" can carry connotations of militant or extremist tendencies, which some prefer to distance themselves from. Similarly, "Nationalism" is typically associated with the more constitutional parties, such as the Social Democratic and Labour Party (SDLP), while "Republicanism" is often linked to a more militant stance and is associated with groups like the IRA and Sinn Féin. However, the SDLP considers itself republican in a broader sense, believing that they work for the well-being of the republic through peaceful and democratic means. These distinctions highlight the diversity of views within each community, challenging the simplified binaries often applied to Northern Ireland's political landscape.
Connected to that, we learned that there has been a steady growth of people not identifying as either. Many individuals in Northern Ireland now prefer to identify simply as "Northern Irish" rather than aligning with the traditional categories of British or Irish. This shift reflects a changing social landscape where some, especially younger generations, seek a sense of identity that transcends the historical divisions. This relates to both the religious and political aspects, as the traditional affiliations between Catholicism and Irish nationalism, or Protestantism and British unionism, are no longer as rigid. Interestingly, the fastest-growing religion in Northern Ireland is Orthodox Christianity, due to the large number of migrants from Poland, Lithuania, and other Eastern European countries. This shift highlights the broader demographic changes and suggests that Northern Ireland's future identity might become increasingly diverse, reshaping the traditional dynamics between the communities.
These demographic changes have brought new tensions to Northern Ireland, especially Belfast. As new communities arrive, the social fabric of the city is being tested, creating challenges for integration. We learned about the protests in the city last summer that aligned with those in Great Britain, when people took to the streets to demonstrate and riot against immigration, particularly targeting Muslim communities. Even though the Muslim population in Northern Ireland is not large, the spillover from anti-immigration sentiments in Great Britain affected them. The tensions manifested through a wave of anti-immigrant rhetoric and sporadic violence, highlighting how quickly the region can become a microcosm of broader UK political issues. Interestingly, the protests seemed to bring the two historically rival communities together, with both Catholic and Protestant participants rallying against immigration. Protesters from the Republic of Ireland joined the Protestants, waving the Irish flag next to the Union Jack, showing a rare moment of unity against a perceived common issue. This paradoxical solidarity demonstrated how new social pressures could temporarily override deep-rooted historical divisions.
The implications of Brexit for the future of Northern Ireland were largely underestimated. While the political focus during the referendum centered on immigration and economic concerns, the unique situation of Northern Ireland was often overlooked. The European Union had provided the whole island with common infrastructure and similar development, allowing for a seamless integration between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. This economic integration, along with the Good Friday Agreement, had made the border between the states practically invisible, facilitating free movement of people, goods, and services. For many, the absence of a visible border was a symbol of peace and cooperation, helping to ease historical tensions and support the reconciliation process.
However, as we learned, Brexit brought about a series of difficult discussions regarding the future of this border, threatening to undo the progress made since the Good Friday Agreement. The prospect of a hard border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland raised fears of a return to division and even the potential for renewed conflict. Many worried that customs checks, border posts, or other physical infrastructure could become targets of unrest, sparking tensions in communities where memories of the Troubles are still raw. The debates also highlighted deep divisions within Northern Ireland itself, as the majority of voters there favored remaining in the EU, in contrast to the overall UK vote to leave. This disparity brought up questions of sovereignty and representation, fueling discussions around whether Northern Ireland’s future might lie closer to the Republic of Ireland or continue as part of the UK.
The solution ultimately came in the form of the Northern Ireland Protocol, which effectively kept Northern Ireland aligned with certain EU rules to avoid a hard border on the island. Instead, a de facto customs border was created in the Irish Sea between Northern Ireland and Great Britain. This arrangement sparked its own controversies, particularly among unionists, who saw it as a weakening of Northern Ireland's position within the UK. For nationalists, however, it was viewed as a necessary compromise to preserve the openness of the land border and maintain peace. Brexit thus reawakened difficult questions about identity, belonging, and the stability of Northern Ireland’s delicate balance, showing that the political geography of the region is still a source of profound uncertainty.
Another thing I found really interesting was the debate on the existence of a separate culture of Northern Ireland. This concept challenges the binary of British versus Irish identity, suggesting a more nuanced sense of belonging that has emerged in the aftermath of the conflict. One of the lectures focused on the fact that we cannot assume that one of the communities is inherently British and the other Irish. Even the most loyalist and most republican individuals often demonstrate aspects of a distinct Northern Irish identity. The lecturer talked about the annual marches in Northern Ireland and how they seem to be either British or Irish but are actually neither. The Orange Order and the celebrations of William of Orange may seem British because of their clear connections to British history, but as the lecturer pointed out, nobody in the “mainland” would celebrate these events. As the lecturer said, even asking most people in London what they knew about William of Orange would likely lead to silence. This connects to the historical memories of the people, which are shaped not only by British or Irish traditions but also by the specific context of life in Northern Ireland. This is especially true since there has been a steady rise of people identifying as Northern Irish, suggesting that many see themselves as having a cultural identity that is distinct from either side of the traditional divide.
We also learned to not underestimate the importance of words. In Northern Ireland, language is more than just a means of communication; it is a marker of identity and allegiance, shaping perceptions and signaling political positions. You can tell a lot about a person based on what they call things, as certain terms carry deep historical and political connotations. For example, we were taught the difference between saying "the North of Ireland" versus "Northern Ireland." Using "the North of Ireland" tends to reflect a nationalist or republican perspective, implying a desire for a united Ireland and downplaying the legitimacy of Northern Ireland as a separate entity. On the other hand, "Northern Ireland" is more commonly used by unionists, emphasizing its status as a distinct part of the United Kingdom. Similarly, the terms "Good Friday Agreement" and "Belfast Agreement" reveal underlying allegiances. Those who use "Good Friday Agreement" often align with a nationalist perspective, reflecting the significance of the date in Catholic tradition, while "Belfast Agreement" is more frequently used by unionists, focusing on the geographical location rather than the religious connotations. It even comes down to the name of the conflict itself, as some call it a "civil war" instead of "the Troubles" like we are used to. Referring to it as a "civil war" suggests a view that the conflict was a fundamental internal struggle over sovereignty and identity, placing the emphasis on the deep divides within the population. In contrast, "the Troubles" has become the more commonly accepted term, often perceived as a way to downplay the scale and severity of the violence, framing it as a series of disturbances rather than a full-scale war. These seemingly small distinctions in language can reflect deeper ideological divides, revealing how individuals perceive history, legitimacy, and the future of Northern Ireland. Understanding the power of these words helped me appreciate the sensitivity required when discussing the region's complex past and its ongoing political dynamics.
As I was also there finding inspiration for my Master’s thesis, the murals and their connections to other global conflicts particularly captured my interest. It was striking to see Palestinian and Israeli flags displayed mere streets away from each other, representing the alignment of local identities with distant struggles. Photographing the numerous murals that portrayed the Palestinian fight for freedom alongside the Irish republican struggle felt like witnessing a reimagining of the conflict through new symbolism. These murals, while rooted in local history, use imagery from entirely different geopolitical struggles to express a shared narrative of resistance and solidarity. This highlighted how Belfast’s urban art has become a canvas for connecting local and global perspectives, linking the legacy of the Troubles with contemporary movements for self-determination.
Conclusion
The study trip to Northern Ireland deepened my understanding of the region’s complex social, political, and cultural landscape. It challenged my preconceptions and broadened my perspective on the Troubles and the ongoing peace process. I gained insight into the layered identities within the communities, the impact of Brexit on the border dynamics, and the nuanced shifts in how people perceive their place in a changing Northern Ireland. Walking through Belfast's divided spaces and learning about the evolving social tensions highlighted that peace is not static—it requires constant negotiation and understanding. This experience not only enriched my academic knowledge but also underscored the importance of approaching conflict with empathy and an open mind. The trip taught me that understanding Northern Ireland's past and present involves acknowledging the complexity and fluidity of identities, and that the region’s future will be shaped by how it balances its history with the aspirations of its people.
