When I voted in favour of the Belfast Agreement I did so with quite a few concerns: not least of which was my fear that there was, given our history, the likelihood that new hope would be overshadowed by the “dreary steeples” and we’d simply cement into place an us-and-them executive which wouldn’t prioritise genuine power-sharing.
On the morning of the referendum – May 22nd, 1998 – I still wasn’t certain how I would vote, or even if I would vote. Yet eventually my fears and usual pessimism were overcome by the acknowledgment that this was a moment for peace that hadn’t existed before in my lifetime; which meant that there was a chance, however small, that the hope contained in the agreement would morph into trust, co-operation and a new and better way of “doing” politics here.
I first felt the hope in April 1998. I felt it again in the size of the majority in that May’s referendum, when an 81 per cent turnout delivered a 71 per cent vote in favour. But that hope was shaken on June 28th, at the first Assembly election, when the political centre (UUP, SDLP and Alliance) just about scraped an overall majority of seats (57 of the 108), without an overall majority of the votes: while pro-agreement unionism pipped anti-agreement unionism by just 30 to 28 (and David Trimble couldn’t even rely on about five of his MLAs).
A new type of bespoke arrangement nurtured division and fostered individual self-interest
It was clear at that moment – with turnout 12 per cent down on the referendum – that there hadn’t been the surge from the centre ground which might have been expected after the referendum. It left both the UUP and SDLP weak, and one thing that NI politics teaches you is that the politically weak won’t be helped by either the British or Irish governments. Particularly when those governments decided – and decided quickly – to do everything required to keep the DUP and Sinn Féin in play. Even when that meant allowing Trimble and Séamus Mallon to swing in the wind until the 2003 election put them out of their misery.
Flying pigs
I didn’t feel the hope again until the election in March 2007, when the DUP and SF gathered 54 seats between them and, crucially, 51 per cent of the overall vote. In the almost four years since the previous election, both parties had been preparing their own bespoke arrangements for governing together. And on May 7th, with Tony Blair and Bertie Ahern watching from the public gallery, while flying pigs avoided crashing into the lights and microphones, Ian Paisley and Martin McGuinness were sworn into office.
Fair enough, they made for particularly strange bedfellows, but sometimes that’s what’s required on the journey from conflict to post-conflict. And if the DUP and SF had managed the weirdly miraculous, then it would have seemed churlish to be overly critical. Yet, just over a year later, Paisley had been toppled as leader and first minister (there were growing concerns about the “cosiness” of his relationship with McGuinness) and succeeded by Peter Robinson. More important, though, at that point any chance of genuine power-sharing died; to be replaced by a process best understood as two governments in the one executive. A new type of bespoke arrangement which nurtured division and fostered individual self-interest.
This is now the seventh election since 1998. The 2016 Assembly collapsed in less than a year, when SF withdrew from the executive. The 2017 election didn’t produce an executive for three years, which, in turn, was pulled down just weeks ago. Irrespective of the outcome on May 5th, there is no likelihood of a new executive anytime soon. Even if there is one, there won’t be a programme for government for which the executive will take collective responsibility. Meanwhile, most of the original mountain of problems which faced the first executive (elected in July 1998) remain unresolved – while the mountain continues to grow.
Socio-economic agenda
When I voted Yes in 1998, I was voting for change. Opinion poll evidence suggested the vast majority of people wanted change. Polling for this election suggests a majority of people want the parties to focus on the socio-economic agenda rather than the “same-old, same-old”. Yet the actual electoral evidence points very clearly to the fact that a majority of voters still prefer to keep two polar opposites at the centre of the political/governing structures. They seem likely to do so again on May 5th: even though there is no prospect of the DUP and SF (irrespective of which one emerges as the largest party) proving any better at working together than they have in the past.
I sometimes wonder if there is an "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here" poster above every polling station
I sometimes wonder if there is an “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” poster above every polling station. Even though DUP/SF voters know the awful relationship between the parties, they will probably still vote for them rather than shore up the centre (UUP/SDLP/Alliance) to test if it could do a better job. It’s possible, too, the DUP could take a massive hit from the Traditional Unionist Voice (most of whose voters would be delighted if the Assembly collapsed entirely), leaving Jeffrey Donaldson utterly hobbled.
If the centre doesn’t make inroads this time, then I don’t see when it ever would. If the big two remain the big two, then I presume they will interpret it as a mandate for adding another few degrees to the frost level. All of which raises the obvious question: how long do we continue the collective pretence that it is worth preserving the Assembly? Maybe the 25th anniversary celebration of the agreement, scheduled for Belfast next April, could put that question on the agenda.
Alex Kane is a commentator based in Belfast. He was formerly director of communications for the Ulster Unionist Party