In a society of rigid categorisations PUP chairwoman Dawn Purvis is breaking the mould. She talks to Fionola Meredith
When you sit down to have a coffee with Dawn Purvis, chairwoman of the Progressive Unionist Party (PUP) and newly appointed member of the Northern Ireland Policing Board, it's easy to forget that she's a leading light of a political party intimately linked with loyalist paramilitary groups the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) and Red Hand Commando.
She's all business: plain-speaking and down-to-earth, she's proud to be a working-class single mother speaking out on behalf of a misunderstood community that she evidently holds dear. She has nothing of the political zealot about her, no crazy ideological glint in her eye. Yet she's bluntly matter-of-fact about her party's association with paramilitarism.
Born and brought up in the loyalist Donegall Pass area of south Belfast, Purvis (39) has always been staunch in her conviction that the paramilitaries had to be part of any solution to the North's problems. So she approved of the "warts and all" analysis of the terrier-like PUP as it came to the fore in the early 1990s, biting at the heels of ponderous and distant middle-class-dominated unionism.
"Up to that point you just had Ian Paisley and James Molyneaux, talking the same old claptrap. It was always the notion that if these bad people would go away this would be a wonderful place. But the so-called bad people they talk about are uncles, brothers, cousins - they're friends, part and parcel of that society, and they're not going to sail off in a wee boat into the sunset. So the question is, how do you move that community from violence to peace? The politicians we had were never going to do that because they were excluding the people that needed to sit down and resolve it. Since I was about nine or 10, that was my mentality - it's the men with the guns that need to sit down and sort this thing out."
Despite Purvis's warm inclusive words, there's no doubt the activities of the "men with the guns" have made life difficult for the PUP. Last year, after a bloody UVF feud with the Loyalist Volunteer Force, recognition of the UVF's ceasefire was withdrawn by the British government. The Independent Monitoring Commission (IMC) report of September 2005 noted "it is the UVF rather than the PUP which leads".
The PUP was criticised for failing to have any impact on the spate of murders and sectarian attacks, but party leader David Ervine claimed the PUP was powerless to intervene. A motion for the PUP to end its "special relationship" was defeated in a closed vote at the party conference last October.
So why, in Purvis's view, did the party decide to maintain its links with such a political liability? "Some people would regard [ the link] as a hindrance in terms of electoral gains. And there's no doubt that when members of the UVF have been ill-disciplined, particularly around election times, it does cause the PUP harm. But I think when you have debated that link, discussed it, understand what that link is, you can see that's what the PUP is actually about. It's about transforming loyalist communities and bringing an end to paramilitarism. There's no point cutting people off and leaving them behind. Don't get me wrong, the UVF and Red Hand do not vote for the PUP in large numbers - if anything, many would be DUP voters. But rather than constantly condemning them, slapping them down, we want to help them out of the jungle."
The recent appointment of Purvis to the Northern Ireland Policing Board has caused fresh controversy. SDLP justice spokesman Alban Maginness fired off a series of outraged questions: "How does the Northern Ireland Office (NIO) reconcile their decision with the conclusions of the IMC less than six months ago? Does the NIO disregard more-recent IMC reports of UVF involvement in serious crime? Where is the NIO really on the issue of loyalist paramilitaries?" But Purvis is sanguine that her roles as PUP chairwoman and Police Board member are entirely compatible, based on her extraordinary belief in the fundamental moral probity of both the PUP and the UVF.
"Policing is all about dealing with crime and crime prevention. What the PUP is about is ensuring an end to criminality, ensuring that people who at one point turned to violence now use democratic means to deal with issues." But if she knew UVF members were taking part in criminal behaviour, would she have any difficulty reporting that? "None whatsoever. If I see a crime in the street, I report it, no matter who's involved. Those same principles are held by the leadership of the PUP, the leadership of the UVF, the leadership of the Red Hand. Criminality is totally wrong, whether drug-dealing, extortion, pimping, breaking and entering - it doesn't matter what it is, it's wrong, against the law."
Purvis is determined to use her new position to tackle the deep sense of alienation and hostility towards the police that causes disaffected youngsters to scrawl "PSNI scum" on walls and gable-ends in loyalist areas. "This is one of my main motivations for joining the board. How many police recruits come from Sandy Row? Or the Shankill Road? They probably get more recruits into policing from the Bogside or the Falls."
Women in unionist politics have long held the role of chief tea-makers. The unionist cult of the Big Man (and his invisible wife) means that - with a few exceptions - women have remained supportive onlookers rather than active participants.
"Working-class loyalism in particular is a deeply masculinist culture, only intensified by the years of violence. So how does Purvis fit into this volatile, ultra-male world? "Some men feel fearful of someone strong, confident, articulate, who can speak for themselves. But I see that in women too. I've heard women in my own community say - 'who does she think she is'?" Purvis believes that a lack of education has held working-class loyalist women back. "The message is: 'don't worry about going to school, you'll get a job in the stitching factory, and you'll only be in there a couple of years till you get married and have kids, so what's the point in getting educated?' That's the way you're brought up."
And a deep-rooted suspicion that feminism is irretrievably bound up with a nationalist agenda has prevented many unionist and loyalist women from using the language of political empowerment. "As far as they're concerned, feminism and nationalism are one and the same - anything to do with women's liberation has always been shunned by unionism, and we're still feeling the impact of that."
Purvis is pro-choice, and campaigned in the past for the extension of the British 1967 Abortion Act to the North. "It really cracks me up that the people making these decisions are men. It always comes down to morality and religion, but to me it's about women's mental, emotional and physical health. It's crazy that Ian Paisley jnr has something in common with Bernie Smith, the leader of Precious Life. I believe that religion is about keeping women in their place - it all goes back to Adam and Eve."
Purvis is a figure of contradictions. She speaks out passionately against criminality, yet chairs a party inextricably linked to a paramilitary organisation. She is a lone unionist voice calling for abortion rights for women in the North, yet balks at calling herself a feminist. She's fiercely proud of her Protestant background, yet she condemns the constrictive effects of religion. In a society addicted to the category, she resists assimilation.
