Red Hands and Redemptorists

Our morning correspondent is Kevin Gibbons:

“I knew these guys.”
~ Nate, our tour guide in Shankill Road, concerning his friends who had died in the Ulster Volunteer Force)

The group’s fifth day in Belfast began with yet another hearty breakfast at the Treehouse, or, for those disciplined enough for Running Club, a jolly traipse through West Belfast. Dress was casual for the day because we would later be touring working class communities, where, in contrast with our adventures at Stormont, there was no dress code in effect. So we set out, all dressed in t-shirt and jeans, to meet up with our guide for the Falls aspect of the tour, an IRA man by the name of Peadar Wheeling. Peadar was a fascinating man, having spent 16 years in prison for transporting arms with the Republican movement. In prison he had begun work on his political degree which he completed after his “release” from prison. However, the curious thing about Peadar that a number of us found striking was that he had never been truly “released” from prison; rather, he was out on license, which is something like a strict form of probation. As he explained, if someone were to start a fight with him and he defended himself, then he would go to jail and the other man would get off because less evidence was needed to put Peadar in prison. Thus accompanied, we began the tour.

Our first stop on the Falls was the “international” mural which had pictures relating the Irish Republican cause to that of the Palestinians, the Cubans, and the Basques in Spain. In addition, there were depictions of famous events and people of The Troubles such as the Falls Road Curfew of 1970. It was interesting to see the wall attempt to synthesize so many international issues, but at the same time it seemed inauthentic because more people stop and take pictures than do those who stop and actually think about it. Following this stop we continued on to the Republican museum, located in a former mill. Immediately inside the museum was a memorial to those who had died in the Republican effort, which once passed gave way to an exact replica of a prison cell a Republican female convict would have stayed in. Across from the cell was the main exhibit which contained a show of paraphernalia, weapons, uniforms, and explanations. In the back of the exhibit was the entrance to a small library which contained the books that Republicans would read while imprisoned. In fact, Peadar showed us the censor mark that the prison guards put on before the books were allowed in. It was just a little mark on the title page of the book, but it really drove home the reality of these people’s story. When people had finished we walked out of the museum and were met by some other members who had just returned from a humanitarian trip to Palestine. This was one of the most interesting parts of the day because of the story these people told. They had been on a ship headed out to sea towards the Gaza strip when one of the crew aboard got a hunch and went down into the hull to check the main beam. What he discovered was that the beam had been weakened and that, should they have gone out on the open water, it would have snapped and they all would have drowned. More interesting however was that the beam had not been weakened accidentally, but rather had been damaged by a small explosive. Speculations abounded about the Israeli Mossad, but it was clear that someone had not meant for them to get to Palestine.

After this episode, Peadar took us to the Bombay Street Memorial Garden which remembered the people from that section of the Falls who had died during The Troubles. It was striking to me because those people whose pictures were up on the wall for us to see were not very old at all. They looked to be normal kids, just growing up in abnormal conditions. Here was where Peadar really talked to us for the first time, and I was struck by two things. Firstly, that he was very knowledgeable in what he was saying; he seemed to have a very firm grasp of the theory of what was going on. Secondly, he seemed a little offhand. This in and of itself was not a bad thing, but it seemed to make it more difficult for him to get his message across. Nevertheless, it was a moving tour and after he had finished he headed down to hand us over to our guide on the loyalist side: Nate.

From the very moment we saw him, Nate had a very laid back attitude. He walked with his hands in the pockets of his royal blue windbreaker, and his Timberlands had a jaunty gait about them. This was the man we saw walk up to Peadar, and when they shook hands it made for a very nice photo opportunity. When all had been arranged, we waved good bye to Peadar and entered Shankill road.

From the get go, people found themselves relating to Nate with incredible ease. Even though, unlike Peadar, he had not finished high school knowing how to read and write, and certainly had no politics degree, he had something about the way that he talked that got his point across just as effectively, if not more so. This wasn’t so obvious at the Peace Wall, where everyone was more concerned with getting a shot to use the one Sharpie to write their names, than at getting to know the guide. But as we ventured into the neighborhood, his passion became more and more apparent. We reached an abandoned row of houses, and, according to a number of people, that is when we first noticed that his eyes seemed to look sad as he described the eviction and the stealing of the bricks from abandoned houses and the exodus of an entire community. Further on in the tour, it became more clear that he had an emotional connection with the places we were visiting. Among these was the Ranger’s supporters club, which had a list of the “Battalion of the Dead”-those who had died in the UVF- and a carved hand of Ulster. In addition he took us to his own memorial garden where he told the story of a man whose family had been killed. The man had then requested a couple fifers to play a service, but had broken down in tears when all 150 members of the local flute band showed up to play. However, the most potent experience we had with Nate was when we visited the C company Mural. He walked up to the list of the deceased and pointed out the last several, telling us that he had known them personally. When he went through how they had died, he was clearly choking up. It really hit home with us then that the people involved in this thing weren’t just numbers or names in books, but rather real live human beings who left behind friends and family standing at walls in tears. That put a very human face on a conflict that previously we had only looked at through an academic lens. But as the tour and the morning ended, he walked us back to the interface and told us goodbye as we made our way to Clonard Monastery.

Our afternoon correspondent is Stephen Sigmier:

“Do what you reasonably can and leave the rest to God.”
~ Fr. Alex Reid

As soon as our group finished our walking tour, we moved back up the Falls Road and reached our next stop: Clonard Monastery. Clonard, which was partially under construction at the time of our visit, was established in 1897 by a Catholic religious order known as the Redemptorists. The seemingly normal monastery actually played an extremely important role in the progression of the Peace Process: it was the location of the first peace talks that were made in secret between Gerry Adams, leader of Sinn Féin, and John Hume of the SDLP. These talks were moderated by Fr. Alex Reid, a highly respected member of Belfast’s Catholic community. The location was the only place suitable for Adams to begin discussing peace because it was comfortable, difficult to monitor from the outside, and, most importantly, the only church that would accept him due to his position as the spokesmen for the IRA. Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, Adams, Fr. Reid, and many other politicians discussed the logistics of achieving peace in the secretive Parlor 4 of Clonard (Ironically, the room was labeled as the enigmatic “Room 007” due to a renumbering of rooms that took place during renovations). The first steps made towards lasting peace at Clonard Monastery have given it the nickname “cradle of the Peace Process”.

After touring the parts of the monastery that weren’t under construction, we met Ed Petersen, a man who fills many roles at Clonard. Ed shared with us a short version of his impressive life story. After graduating from Yale University (Ed barely mentioned this in a passing comment; I should mention he is also one of the most modest people I have ever met), he journeyed to Rome, hoping to become a priest. His plans changed, however, and he moved to Belfast, later returning to New York to do some ecumenical work around the community. In the wake of 9/11, however, his mission changed drastically. Realizing that understanding and healing were required for the people of New York to move forward, he began working in an inter-faith program between Jews and Muslims in the city with the goal of helping each faith community to learn about the other. After managing the program for a number of years, he returned to Northern Ireland and, remembering the positive effect his inter-faith program had in New York, joined a similar one called the Unity Pilgrims, which worked with Catholics and Protestants of Belfast. The secret to its success was simple: have the group meet at 11:00 AM on Sundays, so that people of both faiths could worship at each other’s community. In addition to his responsibilities with the Unity Pilgrims, he also worked alongside the Clonard Youth Program in a summer program called Street Outreach. I was impressed with Ed’s incredible devotion to harmony among humanity; he did as much as reasonably possible to strive towards peace, and he continues to give almost all of his energy to Clonard day after day. On a side note, I was also regaled with his tale of how, for a brief time, he had been a professional basketball player in Lithuania (Ed only discussed this for a short time; I really meant it when I said he is modest).

Saying goodbye to Ed, we left the monastery and returned to Queen’s Elms just in time to prepare dinner and meet our next guest: Jim Gibney, a senior strategist for Sinn Féin and one of the major engineers of the Peace Process. Although he does not have as high a profile as Gerry Adams or Martin McGuinness, a quick look in any book on the history of Sinn Féin will reveal his massive contributions to the party. He is best known for making one of the most important speeches of the Peace Process at Achill Island, revealing Sinn Féin’s willingness to end the war. Strategically, the speech was brilliant; it was a response to the British government’s “public” statement at a deserted golf club on Achill that Britain had no strategic, political, or economic interests in Northern Ireland. The British statement would never have been found out about if Jim hadn’t alerted the public to it in his message. I admire him for taking the reasonable route of cease-fire when faced with so much opposition from both sides. Jim was one of the nicest and interesting people I have met so far on the trip; as our group filtered in for dinner, he introduced himself, shook each of our hands, found out all of our names, and asked us what our favorite part of the trip was so far. The fact that made sure he spoke to all sixteen of us is a testament to his genuine interest in our travels. It was an odd meeting in context of the trip, as this was the first time we were being asked questions, rather than asking them ourselves! Although dinner ran into technical difficulties, it took significantly longer to cook, it was a treat to talk to Jim about our understanding of the conflict in Northern Ireland and listen to his take on it.

I went to bed feeling very happy, having met two people who made the world a better place and always worked for peace above all else.