(Northern) Ireland's Call
Guinness, guns, and group activities.
Hello!
It’s been a while. I’ve been buried in essays, and I made a judgement call that no one wants a 3,000-word breakdown of post-conflict peacebuilding frameworks on a Tuesday afternoon. You’re welcome.
But this one I actually want to write.
I’ve just come back from 12 days in Northern Ireland with Durham University - Belfast, Derry/Londonderry (depending on your persuasion), and a few places in between.
The original plan was Oman. Then the United States launched strikes on Iran, and our university’s risk assessment apparently decided that the Middle East was no longer a suitable academic field trip destination. Fair enough. Instead, we went to a place where, within living memory, bombs were planted in shopping centres and people were shot dead on the street by the British Army.
But sure, Oman’s the dangerous one.
I’m not complaining. It turned out to be one of the more formative 12 days I’ve had.
On the way back to Belfast airport, one of our cohort made the mistake of calling it ‘Derry’ only to receive backlash from the taxi driver, clearly unionist, who cried ‘LONDONDERRY… ITS NOT BEEN DERRY SINCE 1613!’. And look, I get it. The name dispute is real and it matters to people. But I do think there's something self-defeating about screaming at a student in a taxi about a city's name from 1613. It doesn't make your political point land harder. It makes you look like you've lost the argument before you've started it. I kept that observation to myself, because at that point I was 11 days deep and ready for my own bed.
‘The Troubles’ as they’re called, were deadly.
3600 people died in the conflict, and we get absolutely no teaching about it in school.
The laziest shorthand is that it was a fight over religion. Catholics versus Protestants. It wasn’t. It was a fight over identity, territory, and the legitimacy of the state itself.
And for what it’s worth, Northern Ireland isn’t even that religious. Roughly 30% of the population attend church weekly. But ask them, and they’ll all tell you they’re deeply religious. because in NI, religious identity and political identity are the same thing.
Catholic means nationalist means republican. Protestant means unionist means loyalist.
The Good Friday Agreement of 1998 froze the conflict and stopped the killings (for the most part) but didn’t solve the underlying complexities that sparked the conflict in the first place.
As part of the programme, we met former combatants from both sides. Former IRA (allegedly). Former UDA and UVF (allegedly). People who, in a different political context, would simply be described as terrorists (allegedly).
The university risk assessment, which had deemed Oman too dangerous, apparently had no issue with us sitting in a room with people who had participated in political violence. I’m still not sure whether that’s brave, iconic, or simply very British/Durham. Maybe they didn’t know?
One of the most striking meetings was with a man who had been part of the UDA. He spoke without apology, and with a kind of clarity about violence that was unsettling to sit with. When the conversation turned to the future and a potential border poll he was unambiguous. If it kicked off again he would go back to it.
The way they describe the violence is like a job they have left, not as acts of (alleged) terrorism. ‘I’ll return to it’, as if it’s a part time gig at a bar. It’s the cleanest portrayal of how we perceive the conflict differently to them.
Whatever people say about the Good Friday Agreement - and it is a remarkable diplomatic achievement - it didn’t solve the underlying tensions that caused the conflict.
Every single person we met on this trip agreed on one thing! Stormont, the devolved government, is essentially useless. It has collapsed and been suspended for roughly 40% of its existence since 1998. While it’s been sitting idle, the critical social and economic problems of Northern Ireland have gone largely unaddressed.
Funnily enough, the only thing that unites republicans and unionists in Northern Ireland is their shared contempt for Stormont. Oh, and the Belfast Giants. Identity politics stops at the rink, apparently.
Belfast was much more enjoyable than I ever imagined, they had phenomenal pints of Guinness and everyone we met was warm and welcoming. It has a slightly Orwellian vibe though, the peace walls separating the two communities feel out of place in the UK in 2026. The PSNI (police service) is still routinely armed, and wearing certain football tops in certain areas guarantees - at a minimum - some verbal abuse.
We spent a few days in Derry; I’m calling it Derry, the taxi driver can find me. To be honest, he was the only person I met who called it otherwise, so it feels appropriate to call it Derry.
We we were shown around by the son of one of the men killed by the British Army’s Parachute Regiment on Bloody Sunday in 1972.
Fourteen people were shot dead. The Saville Inquiry, which concluded in 2010, found that the killings were unjustified and unjustifiable, and that soldiers had fired on unarmed civilians. It took 38 years to get to that conclusion.
Being shown around those streets by someone who grew up without a father, because of a decision made by the army, is not an experience that translates easily here. I’ll just say that it puts the abstract political history into a very different register. No matter how you view the conflict, I hope we can all agree that the shooting of unarmed civilians is against everything Britain stands for.
We also visited Corrymeela, a peace and reconciliation community on the north coast, perched on the cliffs above the Atlantic near Ballycastle. It’s genuinely beautiful up there. Its spent sixty years bringing people from both sides of the divide together through dialogue, shared meals, and community. It hosted secret meetings between politicians during the worst years of the conflict. People on the run from paramilitary death squads took refuge there.
I have nothing but respect for what Corrymeela does and what it represents. I also want to be honest that it felt, just a little, like a very well-meaning cult. The vibe was intentional community, gentle acoustic music, a lot of earnest conversation about healing. Everyone was incredibly nice and I slightly worried they were going to ask me to stay forever and tend the garden.
I also, for the first time, played football here with my good friend Cam. I’m good at a lot of things (allegedly) but football isn’t usually one. However, even Cam would agree - I hope - that I gave it a good shot. In fact, the lady serving our meal even commented on us and our sporting endeavour.
Joking aside, Corrymeela represents a model of peacebuilding that the rest of the world, currently tearing itself apart along identity lines, could genuinely learn from. The idea that you sit down with the person you’ve been taught to fear and just… talk.
Overall, I had a much better experience that I could have ever imagined. There was no dull point, the people were lovely, pints were exceptional and although the weather was unbelievably volatile, it felt like a holiday - of sorts.
I’ll admit, before we arrived, I had a terrible perception of Northern Ireland. I’m not sure if it’s because of our media, or because of my lack of awareness. I pictured something grim and grey and vaguely hostile. The kind of place you pass through rather than visit.
Yet it wasn’t like this at all. We met some fabulous people - mostly after one (or ten) pints, explored the nightlife… a lot. Plus, saw the amazing culture that both ‘sides’ hold onto and take pride in.
Northern Ireland needs investment and attention. If Westminster doesn’t treat them as an equal part of the union, and give them the attention they need and deserve, it should come as no surprise if they decide they’re better off without us.
The Giants Causeway, an (extortionate) national trust treasure, was beautiful. It was nice to get some fresh air and potter along a coastline, being careful not to plunge to certain death on some of the steep areas.
I’m popped some photos below of my time in Northern Ireland. Jay was kind enough to let me use his film camera. Of course I needed a film camera! I wasn’t insufferable enough to everyone already - got to keep people on their toes (and rolling their eyes).
Enjoy!
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Corker of a read Mike, this is great!