It has been recognised that the bitter divisions of Northern Ireland will never be resolved by mere demographics, writes Paul Murphy
Later today the results of the 2001 census for Northern Ireland will be published, offering a wealth of detailed information designed to help shape decisions about public services and government policy over the next 10 years. But in truth there will only be two figures talked about: the percentage of those from Protestant and Catholic backgrounds respectively.
This headcount will dominate discussion because Northern Ireland is one of the few places in the world where a fact-gathering census can be thought to have "winners" and "losers".
In one sense there are unlikely to be surprises: the trend of successive surveys suggests an increase in the Catholic population and a decrease in the Protestant population. As the gap narrows, those in both communities who prefer confrontation to accommodation will seize their moment; some nationalists will start to speculate on a timeframe for a united Ireland, triumphant about what they see as an irreversible tide; some unionists will start manning the flood barriers while hoping the tide will go away.
For too long Northern Ireland has been bedevilled by the politics of what might happen, rather than what is happening. People speculating about the future, rather than dealing with the present. And the present is this: a chance for a settlement which involves both communities, gives a generation which knew nothing but violence a chance to raise their children and grandchildren in peace, and a chance for Northern Ireland to be known as an example to the world of how to make the transition from conflict to peace.
Once the dust settles today I hope the majority will see the census as a useful reminder of what the Belfast Agreement was all about. Because at the heart of the agreement was a recognition that the bitter divisions of Northern Ireland will never be resolved by mere demographics. If history has taught us anything, it is the hard lesson that a majority - whatever its complexion - cannot ignore the will of the minority. Power and responsibility have to be shared.
The supreme irony of Northern Ireland is - and has always been - that neither community can plough its own furrow. Just as their pasts have been painfully interwoven so their futures are interdependent. If Catholics and Protestants, unionists and nationalists cannot learn to cherish diversity, to value and respect the cultural identity and allegiance of the other community, neither will prosper. In the new Northern Ireland everyone must be able to feel at ease. To paraphrase my predecessor, if Northern Ireland were to become a "cold house" for anyone, it would be a grim, miserable house for everyone. That is the stark choice which the census brings into fresh focus.
As one of those who spent many months involved in the talks which led to the Belfast Agreement, I remain optimistic that the two communities will be able to forge this common future. I do not underestimate the difficulties or the depth of bitterness which runs through Northern Ireland like a faultline. But since I returned as Secretary of State a few weeks ago I have seen signs of hope.
In fact, the universal disappointment at the suspension of the Assembly and Executive, which brought together - however uneasily - nationalists, unionists and republicans, was itself encouraging. Everyone valued the chance for local politicians to make local decisions.
The creation of a cross-community Policing Board, which routinely addresses acutely sensitive issues, or a police service, which now attracts large numbers of young Catholics, would have been unimaginable a few years ago. A visible sign of hope which is making a real difference on the streets of Northern Ireland.
Many of Northern Ireland's politicians also continue to show the ability to resist the siren call of sectarianism. Mark Durkan's SDLP is at its best when blazing the trail for an inclusive society which accepts the kind of realities presented by a sectarian headcount. David Trimble has shown decisively that unionism can and will share power, if the threat of violence is removed. The smaller parties continue to be prophetic, holding out the vision of a non-sectarian future.
EVEN at what some would term the harder edges of unionism and republicanism there are discernible changes. Few of us involved in the talks expected to see so quickly a republican Lord Mayor of Belfast acknowledge the remembrance of those who died in the British army.
Or to hear Gerry Adams, the Sinn Féin president, agree that a united Ireland would only be workable with the "consent and assent" of unionists. Or to see Dr Paisley's DUP sitting in Assembly committees with members of Sinn Féin.
Perhaps these movements at either end of the political spectrum are straws in the wind. But they amount to a recognition amongst all mature politicians in Northern Ireland that they and their communities cannot exist alone, in isolation, or in opposition to other communities. That promises nothing but conflict for the young people of both communities.
In short, for unionists, nationalists, loyalists and republicans "ourselves alone" must be transformed into "ourselves together" if the Belfast Agreement is to become a reality.
Anyone who needs convincing that such a transformation is possible should visit the Glencree reconciliation centre outside Dublin, as I did yesterday. It is a testament to the bitter history shared by Ireland and Britain and to the remarkable healing of that relationship in recent years. Two countries with intertwined cultures, histories and communities, in conflict with each other for so long, have become partners in the European project.
The wounds of the past have been healed to the point where the two governments and the two prime ministers have become inseparably committed to resolving the conflict in Northern Ireland by asserting a common agenda of democratic politics, human rights and non-violence. Without that shared vision - which has withstood every difference of interest - the agreement could simply never have been concluded.
A few miles from Glencree, in a small village called Shankill, local people are bringing together their own young men and women with those from that troubled namesake area of north Belfast. Like so many in Northern Ireland, they are rebuilding society from the bottom up, knowing that the challenges facing the new generation - from drugs to social deprivation - do not follow sectarian boundaries.
These, and thousands like them, are the people building the future. For them the census will be a useful tool in planning that shared future. By contrast, anyone who is tempted to use the census as a weapon, whether offensive or defensive, will simply condemn themselves, their children and those they represent to relive a past of isolation, conflict and misery.
Mr Paul Murphy MP is the Secretary of State for Northern Ireland