Published January 1996 by Island Publications132 Serpentine Road, Newtownabbey, Co Antrim BT36 7JQ© Michael HallISBN 1 899510 05 2Printed by Regency Press, Belfast2
IntroductionOn 27 November 1995, after weeks <strong>of</strong> almost daily warnings from Sinn Féin sources thatthe Northern Ireland ‘peace process’ was in ‘crisis’, this item appeared on Teletext:Mayhew Praises People PowerPeople power would prevent a return <strong>of</strong> IRA violence, the Northern IrelandSecretary Sir Patrick Mayhew said. Responding to Sinn Féin leader Gerry Adams’claim that conflict was inevitable without talks, he said the “passionatedetermination” <strong>of</strong> [ordinary] people would keep the ceasefires intact.Sir Patrick was, in my opinion, quite correct to assume that the vast majority <strong>of</strong> peoplehere fervently desire peace, and equally justified in surmising from this that a return toviolence hardly seems possible with so many opposed to it. However, the reality is thatthe very people with the greatest desire to see genuine peace emerge – the ordinarycitizens <strong>of</strong> Northern Ireland – are the ones least empowered to see this process through toa satisfactory conclusion. Instead, power over our future remains firmly in the hands <strong>of</strong>all those, whether government ministers, faceless bureaucrats, local politicians, or thevast army <strong>of</strong> assorted pr<strong>of</strong>essionals and middlemen – and not forgetting the paramilitaries– who have so manifestly failed us in the past.It is not that ordinary people have made no effort to contribute positively to thissociety’s welfare – quite the opposite. Throughout the past twenty-five years <strong>of</strong> violencecountless individuals and grassroots groups, in a multitude <strong>of</strong> ways, have striven to effectpositive social change within their own localities and to create conditions for dialoguebetween our divided communities. These efforts, <strong>of</strong>ten involving much time, energy andpersonal risk, have largely gone unrecorded and unacknowledged, yet cumulatively mustsurely make up the real ‘hidden history’ <strong>of</strong> <strong>Ulster</strong>’s tragedy.Throughout our turmoil these individuals and groups have constantly pitted theirenergies against manipulative bureaucrats, struggled frustratingly for never-appearingresources, stood up bravely to uncaring paramilitaries, and constantly striven to overcomethe doubts and apathy <strong>of</strong> friends and neighbours. Sometimes their efforts met withlimited success, but more <strong>of</strong>ten than not they were ignored, frustrated, sidelined – <strong>of</strong>tenquite deliberately – by those with control over resources and decision-making.For some years now I have been trying to encourage various community activists torecord their experiences, but with little success. Some are too busy confronting presentneeds, some still doubt the importance <strong>of</strong> their efforts, some are disillusioned, otherssimply worn out. Yet our society is at such an important crossroads – where ordinarypeople must finally decide where they want to go – that I feel compelled to make a startat describing how powerlessness is reinforced at the grassroots, even if I have had tomake use <strong>of</strong> many <strong>of</strong> my own experiences – something I feel very uncomfortable about.Nevertheless, I believe that the recounting <strong>of</strong> actual experiences is far more effective inshedding light upon the various processes at work than any amount <strong>of</strong> theory.3