When fact is fiction and TV reality

Apologies for the delay in writing, I had a few ideas on the backburner that should be written by the end of this weekend.

This past weekend (Feb 5 – 7th), I went on a trip to Northern Ireland with the DCU contingent of BU Abroad students (i.e. not people from SMG). Unfortunately, the DCU BU Abroad section was probably the most poorly behaved group of people over the age of 10 that I’ve ever had the misfortune of spending a weekend with – but there are far more relevant matters that I bring to the table.

When I told one of my friends that I was going to Belfast and Derry, she jokingly said “oh, don’t get shot.” At the time, it kind of pissed me off because it sounded pretty ignorant – but after spending a weekend there, it turned out that I was the ignorant one.

Immediately upon driving into Belfast, I was met with a haunting feeling that wouldn’t go away. The city centre seemed safe, but I felt as if I walked a mile in the wrong direction, I might not make it back. I unfortunately do not have a picture to fully explain my thoughts, but I got the impression that this wasn’t an uncommon sentiment among the people. It speaks volumes to how many problems the city has that one of the few places Belfast residents can find pride is that the Titanic was build at their Harland and Wolff shipyard.

Taking a bus tour around Belfast was eye-opening. There is so much remaining sectarian hatred existing that over 80 interface barriers exist between Protestants and Catholics. This is four times the amount of walls that existed in the early 1990s. Angry youths come out and night and throw bottles over the barriers at their neighbors. It’s hard to put into words how the tour made me feel, but I was uncomfortable enough to take off my “Notre Dame Fighting Irish” hat when I walked through Protestant areas (and I was in a tour group of 50+ Americans).

Understandably, these “interface areas” are in working-class communities and reminded me of something out of “8 Mile” – they were not nice places. The divisions are fairly clear too, with violent sectarian murals on the sides of buildings like the one below. Most outsiders to the situation know that the IRA and Protestant paramilitary groups have disarmed, but when you see a painting of a masked guy on the side of a Protestant building with an AK-47, it speaks to the hatred that is still prevalent in these communities.

Derry was stop #2 on the journey – the site of Bloody Sunday (holy obscure reference to the U2 song in the title of this post) and the only completely walled-in city on the British Isles. Derry was much less scary than Belfast – however during the tour when the Protestant section of town was pointed out, I was appalled. There are under 1000 Protestants in an area that formerly contained 15,000 and it is a completely walled-off section that basically amounts to a ghetto, with row-houses lining the streets proudly sporting the Union Jack.

The Protestant section of Derry.

I do not claim to even begin to understand the complex nature of conflict between Protestants and Catholics – but the experience in Northern Ireland left me with many questions. I wonder, how much of the murals exist simply for tourism’s sake or because the violent sentiment persists? Are peace walls really the answer, especially in places like Derry?

Our slightly biased tour guide for Derry addressed this saying that if they took the wall (in Derry) down, he doubts there would be a massacre like the leader of the Protestant section claims. “Kids would start playing together, teenagers would start sleeping together or binge drinking… whatever they do.” It seems counterintuitive to build community walls and teach your children to hate another group of people simply because they don’t worship (the same God) in the exact same way.

City hall and the Belfast Eye.

City hall and Belfast Eye at night.

Giant’s Causeway from above.

A few friends and I standing on part of the Giant’s Causeway.