Blinkered unionist leaders have failed their community

Here we go again. The gravest crisis since 1912, says the Rev Ian Paisley. Irish unity by instalments, says Robert McCartney

Here we go again. The gravest crisis since 1912, says the Rev Ian Paisley. Irish unity by instalments, says Robert McCartney. No talking, says William Thompson. Sell-out, says William Ross. The siren voices of unionist alarmism once more wailing their unchanging two-tone message of distrust and defiance.

We've heard it all before from these elected representatives - I call them that deliberately, for they are most emphatically not leaders but blinkered, unthinking opinion followers, timidly locked into the slipstream of the most backward-looking, unyielding and vociferous of their supporters, and dishonestly nourishing the worst political fears and anxieties of the nominally unionist majority.

In 1985 these same representatives cynically whipped their people into a frenzy of panic and uncertainty about the Anglo-Irish Agreement, telling them that it had driven them to, what Peter Robinson memorably called, "the window ledge of the union". A dozen years on, where is the convincing evidence that the Union has been prejudiced, unionism diminished or the unionist way of life eroded?

Yet Paisley and others continue to peddle this proposition and frighten the people who continue to elect them. As a result of their signal failure to provide political leadership, there is today a deeply insecure, confused and distrustful unionist community in the North. They are as firmly opposed as their forefathers ever were to any relationship with the South.

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They are disappointed that successive British governments do not appear to value the Union and, moreover, seem bent on driving them out of it. They see, in every official action, a consistent plot, masterminded from Dublin with London's willing concurrence, to undermine their heritage, culture, rights and beliefs, softening them up, they believe, for hand-over to the hated south.

Above all, they regard the way the two governments encouraged the IRA ceasefires as the ultimate betrayal and they are convinced that there are still secret protocols, agreed with the IRA, underpinning it to their future disadvantage.

The unionist persecution complex is aggravated by a perception that, in a future united Ireland, they will be dominated and humiliated and made to conform to the dictates of an exclusively nationalist political and Catholic religious regime that will strip them of any rights, dignity and influence.

They have been told, and they believe, that the imminent Stormont talks are the instrument by which this dreadful fate will finally be imposed upon them by the pan-nationalist alliance of the Irish government, SDLP and IRA, with the willing connivance of an anti-unionist Blair government. The doom mongers insist that another of the stays corseting them into the United Kingdom is about to be cut. But what do they do in the face of such apparent betrayal? Paisley and McCartney pull out of the process altogether, leaving the expression of their case and fears to go by default.

It is clear that for all they rail against the limitations and impotence of direct rule, Unionists find it easier to blame the British, and the IRA, for everything rather than take responsibility for making and defending tough and potentially unpopular decisions, another characteristic failure of leadership. They have too long pursued a policy of "Ulster says No", an assumption that prevarication and delay was the best political course. What they need to do is recognise that, on the eve of the most far-reaching negotiations since the partition treaty of the early 1920s, the unionist mould forged then is now so flawed and fatigued that it needs to be recast.

A notable exception to the siren voices has been David Trimble, the Ulster Unionist party leader. Although he has wallowed in negativity in the past, this time he deserves great credit for seeking to make progress. He has incurred the wrath of some of his followers for being prepared to confront Sinn Fein, to make a case for unionism, to fight for what he believes in. He should have the confidence and courage to defy his critics and continue to do so, even if they seek to make the rift in the party more visible or even move to unseat him.

Recently, in a ground-breaking encounter, he held talks with the Catholic Archbishop of Armagh. He needs to go much further. There are many Catholics who hold unionist views or who are content with the status quo. Trimble could muster further support for the Union from this quarter by disentangling his party from its traditional links with the Orange Order and inviting them to join him. There were high hopes that he would do so when he became party leader. It would be a telling and timely demonstration of leadership if he were to do so now.

The word "historic" has been gravely and prematurely overworked in describing the preparatory process to next week's Stormont talks but there has, by any standards, already been remarkable progress, albeit bought at a terrible price in human life, suffering and the destruction of property. Apart from Trimble's positiveness, the proponents of violence on both sides have been persuaded to silence their guns, an encouraging degree of tentative cross-community political dialogue has been stimulated and the ground rules have been agreed for a comprehensive negotiating process involving all parties to the conflict.

However, with some shades of unionism refusing to take part, the threat of a complete unionist withdrawal still a possibility and a likelihood of further procedural deadlock, the May 1998 deadline for agreement looks ever more hopelessly optimistic.

Years ago, Merlyn Rees asked Cardinal Conway why the politicians could never agree. "You keep setting them exams they cannot pass," said the Cardinal. The odds that they can pass this time are indeed long. The price of success, for Trimble, will be to lead a new Belfast administration. The cost of failure, for everyone, is too awful to contemplate.

Chris Ryder is a freelance journalist

Nuala O'Faolain is on leave