The rituals and parades of the coming weekend demonstrate how Irishness remains a strong emotion
ANY MINUTE now Ireland church and State will be gearing up to troop out for Easter in the colours of past pieties, although in both religious and political spheres the pieties are crocked. How do the new Irish figure out rival parades in honour of republican dead, ancient and modern, not to mention Christendom’s Easter rites?
At least some who have noticed the shame of institutional Catholicism unfolding must witness the elaborate liturgies next Sunday and Monday with puzzlement, if not a touch of nausea. Though no doubt other new Irish will be in the pews North and South – screening out scandal, cover-up and the lacklustre church response, in the name of familiar religious belief that helps them survive otherwise alien surroundings.
As for the State’s half-hearted ceremonial at the GPO, an outsider might suspect an element of cost-cutting, without guessing all the calculations involved. History dictates that something has to happen, though the Troubles blackened the spectacle of Irish soldiers parading to commemorate a war for independence from Britain. Ceremony was cranked down, then allowed back but in miniature. It’s still a fair bet that one recently demoted politician feels punishment and humiliation in every pre-Easter second. For Willie O’Dea, the loss of his right as minister for defence to send out invitations to the GPO’s reviewing stand must be a sore nip, a painful reminder of lost glory. Losing it thanks to a wretched Shinner must be particularly galling.
In the North, the major Easter ceremonies happen inside a nationalist/Catholic world, and for the most part are ignored outside it. Apart from occasional, slightly fakey unionist objections to commemoration of “rebellion” against Britain in time of war, it takes Sinn Féin hymns of praise to the saga of IRA valour to draw real anger. The imminence now of an election means some unionists will be on the alert, ready to advertise their own orthodoxy with criticism of the police for failing to make arrest, and complaints that republican speakers declare loyalty to a (non-existent) republic while holding office in a United Kingdom administration.
Most Protestants, and a sizeable contingent of youthful Catholics, probably don’t know that republican graves in Belfast’s Milltown Cemetery and elsewhere are segregated according to group. Or that separate Easter Sunday marches honour the dead of the Provisional IRA, the Official IRA, the INLA, that the 32 County Sovereignty Movement and Republican Sinn Féin have their own small crowds. And that for many the ceremony is mostly an excuse for a day’s drinking.
In the blackest moments of the Troubles for republican districts, feuds between splinters used to erupt over marches and rival commemorations, pointing up the futility of violence and draining the last ounce of nervous energy in communities already strained beyond bearing.
As dissidence puts down roots instead of withering, some see those days coming back. “Honour Ireland’s Patriot Dead”, Sinn Féin’s website urges each year: wear an Easter lily; attend local commemorations. In west Belfast tension usually stays low because the mainstream ceremonies are largest by such a margin. Relations are more volatile elsewhere.
Last year Sinn Féin in Tyrone scheduled the longest list of ceremonies on the island. It was countered by an ill-spelled website claim that relatives of unnamed IRA members wanted the organisational brand led by Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness to stop using their particular patriot dead to support powersharing at Stormont.
For Northerners who turn out each Easter, the parade to the graves and the speeches are part of an identity too deep to articulate. If pushed, they would say that for them it’s part of being Irish. But then people who wouldn’t dream of going to a parade, nor going to watch one, are as sure of their Irishness as those in the white shirts, black ties, the imitation uniform. Thinking of yourself as Irish – or British – comes as naturally to people with no need for ceremonial as those whose hearts it lifts. It is also a stronger emotion than some suppose.
Last month a Belfast Telegraph opinion poll found that fewer than one in five would substitute Northern Irish for Irish or British. Of Protestants, 71 per cent said they were British – 100 per cent of the over-65s – while 83 per cent of Catholics identified themselves as Irish. A majority of Catholics, a higher percentage than during the Troubles and more than three-quarters of the young, say that in a referendum they would vote for a united Ireland.
That fits with the theory that many Catholics support powersharing at Stormont, while accepting Sinn Féin’s presentation of it as staging post, not permanent settlement.
Easter ceremonies – inside and outside church – may be flyblown, the celebrants flawed, but belief goes marching on.
Some need ritual: more need something to believe in.