Religion, pragmatic fundamentalism and the transformation of the Northern Ireland conflict

Since 11 September 2001, the religious dimension of conflict has been the focus of increasing attention. In The Clash of Civilizations, Huntington has identified the West in religious-cultural terms, as Christian with a dominant democratic culture emphasizing tolerance, moderation and consensus. The persistence of conflict in Northern Ireland among 'White' Protestant and Catholic Christians undermines this simplistic argument and demands a more subtle understanding of the role of religion and fundamentalism in contemporary conflict. Modernization theory - which is echoed among some theorists of globalization - had predicted the declining importance of religion as the world became industrialized and increasingly interconnected. This is echoed by those who argue that the Northern Ireland conflict is 'ethno-national' and dismiss the role of religion. On the other hand, others have claimed that the conflict is religious and stress the role of Protestant fundamentalism. This article draws on new evidence from Northern Ireland of the complex and subtle ways in which religion impacts on the conflict there, incorporating insights about the pragmatism of fundamentalist Protestants and how religious actors are contributing to conflict transformation. This analysis leads to three broader conclusions about understanding conflicts with religious dimensions. First, the complexity of religion must be understood, and this includes a willingness to recognize the adaptability of fundamentalisms to particular contexts. Second, engaging with fundamentalists and taking their grievances seriously opens up possibilities for conflict transformation. Third, governments and religious actors within civil society can play complementary roles in constructing alternative (religious) ideologies and structures as part of a process of transformation. In a world in which the impact of religion is persistent, engaging with the religious dimension is a vital part of a broader-based strategy for dealing with conflict. © 2008 Journal of Peace Research.

Catholicism and Fascism in Interwar Ireland

The interwar era saw the collapse of liberal democracy and the rise of anti-democratic authoritarian movements and states throughout much of Europe. Parliamentary or liberal democracy proved especially vulnerable in countries with large Catholic populations and ‘successor states’ – those states that achieved independence following the Great War. Despite meeting both criteria, the democratic structures of the Irish Free State – established in 1922 following a revolutionary struggle against British rule – proved remarkably resilient: indeed, it was arguably the only successor state to remain fully democratic by 1939 This outcome appears all the more striking given the formation of the state amidst a civil war, a form of conflict that frequently prevented the successful emergence of democracy. This is an article about the dog that didn’t bark: why did the kind of authoritarian political movements that flourished in many other parts of interwar Europe attract negligible support in the Irish Free State, and what does this have to tell us about the relationship between Catholicism and authoritarian politics? It begins by surveying the Irish Catholic Church’s attitudes to far-right politics in Continental Europe, and assessing how ‘official’ Catholic attitudes shaped popular perceptions of fascism and clerical authoritarianism within Ireland. It then explores the extent to which Ireland’s only significant fascistic movement – the Blueshirts – was influenced by, and sought to exploit, Catholicism. It concludes by questioning whether the immense influence of the Catholic Church and Catholic values within Irish political culture and society facilitated or hindered the cause of authoritarian politics in Ireland.

Traditions and transitions: teenagers’ perceptions of parading in Belfast

The purpose of this article is to explore and illuminate teenagers' experiences of, and attitudes to, parades in Belfast. The research draws on responses from 125 teenagers located in interface areas (areas where Catholics and Protestants live side by side but apart) to government supported attempts to rebrand Orangefest (traditional parade associated with Protestant/Unionist/Loyalist community) and St Patrick's Day (traditional parade associated with Catholic/Nationalist/Republican community) as all-inclusive community events. For the most part, young people access these parades in pre-existing, single identity peer groups and view these parades as either inclusive or exclusive calling into question the extent to which Belfast's city centre can be viewed as shared space.

‘Plugging the Gap’: Shared Education and the promotion of community relations through schools in Northern Ireland

Although there is no consensus amongst educationalists as to the role schools play as drivers of hostilities in divided societies, there is broad agreement that they can facilitate more positive intergroup relations. In Northern Ireland the promotion of school based inter-group contact has been offered as a means through which this can happen. Until 2007, the approach was twofold, reflected on the one hand in short-term contact opportunities for pupils in predominantly Catholic and Protestant schools, and on the other, in support for integrated schools which educate Catholics and Protestants together. In 2007 the Shared Education Programme was introduced to ‘bridge the gap’ between short-term opportunities for contact, and ‘full immersion’ integrated schools. Informed by contact theory, shared education offers curriculum based interaction between pupils attending all school types, aimed at promoting the type of contact likely to reduce negative social attitudes and ultimately contribute to social harmony. In this paper, we examine the impact of shared education thus far. Our analysis suggests that whilst shared education is generally effective in promoting positive assessments of other group members, there is a danger that programme impact may be inhibited by the foregrounding of educational over reconciliation priorities. Appreciating that the downplaying reconciliation objectives may have been necessary when the programme was established in order to maximize recruitment to it, we argue that if the full potential of shared education is to be realized, moving forward, it is important for schools to engage with issues of group differences.

Does social deprivation influence inter-group contact outcomes for pupils in Northern Ireland?

The education system in Northern Ireland is characterized by division, with
around 95% of the pupil population attending predominantly co-religionist
schools. In a society that is transitioning from a thirty year conflict that has been
framed by hostilities between the main Catholic and Protestant communities, reconciliation
interventions in education have sought to promote the value of intergroup
contact between pupils attending separate schools. Some qualitative research
suggests that such initiatives are more likely to have positive outcomes for
pupils from more middle class backgrounds than those from more disadvantaged
communitiesand areas that experienced high levels of conflict related incidents and deaths during the pre-ceasefire years. Drawing on contact theory and empirical evidence from a large scale quantitative study, we seek to examine this theory. Using free school meals as a proxy for social class, our findings are consistent in finding that there is a differential impact of contact for those from less affluent backgrounds, and we conclude by arguing that this should be reflected in policy responses.

Reva Siegel and the Role of Religion in Constructing the Meaning of ‘Human Dignity

The “religious understanding” of dignity is a topic of considerable complexity and is the subject of extensive scholarship. In this paper, I consider understandings of dignity that are currently under discussion in Roman Catholic circles, not least because Catholic discussions of dignity are often seen as influential in public policy and legal interpretation, directly and indirectly. I shall focus on one relatively neglected issue in legal scholarship: how scholars go about the task of identifying what a particular religion’s understanding of human dignity involves.
To illustrate the methodological problems that such an enterprise raises, I shall take one attempt by a scholar writing in the field of secular legal scholarship to describe Catholic understandings of dignity in the context of abortion and same-sex marriage. The discussion is that of Reva Siegel, an academic lawyer at Yale University; her recent analysis of differing understandings of dignity illustrates some of the issues that arise when the secular scholarly community addresses religious understandings of dignity.

Contested urbanism: Access and control issues in Tundikhel, Kathmandu

Contested Open Spaces?: Access and control issues in Tundikhel, Kathmandu

Public spaces play a role of political, economic and cultural transformation of cities and the impact of these transformations on the nature of public space.

Urban open space(s) in Kathmandu have been an important part of the city’s urbanism. Historically they have played an important role in the city as spaces for religious, cultural, social and political and military activities during the 300 years of unified monarchy. Throughout the civil war period (Maoist insurgency between 1996 and 2006) they became material locations for political activities, and a site for protests and dharnas. In post-conflict Kathmandu, especially since the abolition of Monarchy in May 28, 2008, these spaces are increasingly seen being claimed by street hawkers, informal sellers and individuals reflecting a new set of users and functions, whereas a significant part of Tundikhel still remains under the military occupation posing important questions around access, identity and control of an important space.


Public spaces are broadly defined as crossroads where different paths and trajectories meet, sometimes overlapping and other times colliding (Madanipour, 2003). Using Tudikhel in Kathmandu, this research examines the increasing collision and contestations witnessed through social, political and neoliberal interactions. It explores how spaces are constantly
contested, negotiated and as a result reshaped through these interactions. It is observed that multiple forces are at play to gain control and access of this important open space, leading to increasing fragmentation of the space, and erosion of its historic significance both as cultural venue and a symbol of democracy in modern Nepal. It is argued that increasing disconnection of Tudikhel from wider urban setting has contributed to exacerbation of these contestations

Calvinist Absolutism: Archbishop James Ussher and Royal Power

Archbishop James Ussher's manuscript notebooks allow us to observe the making of a Calvinist absolutist and to orientate the archbishop's beliefs about royal power within European Reformed thought as a whole. By 1643, Ussher was preaching a polished and complete theory of absolute royal power, and it is possible to track the development of this political theory forward from his undergraduate days in the 1590s. Throughout his life Ussher engaged anxiously with Reformed theologians abroad, who generally favored limited rather than absolute monarchy. Nevertheless, Ussher shared with these Reformed colleagues both an antipathy to aspects of Aristotelian politics and a commitment to the divine institution of royal power. Finally, despite Ussher's hostility to Laudian innovations in the Irish Church, his heartfelt political beliefs made him a firm supporter of Stuart absolutism throughout the Three Kingdoms.

Symposium - Organisational transformation in policing: Leadership and change in extreme contexts

Nearly 4000 people died in Northern Ireland’s long running conflict, 314 of them police officers (Brewer and Magee 1991, Brewer 1996, Hennessey 1999, Guelke and Milton-Edwards 2000). The republican and loyalist ceasefires of 1994 were the first significant signal that NI society was moving beyond the ‘troubles’ and towards a normalised political environment. The Belfast (Good Friday) Agreement of 1998 cemented that movement (Hennessey 1999). Policing was a key and seemingly unresolvable element of the conflict, seen as unrepresentative and partisan. Its reform or ‘recasting’ in a new dispensation was an integral part of the conflict transformation endeavour(Ellison 2010). As one of the most controversial elements of the conflicted past, it had remained outside the Agreement and was subject to a specific commission of interest (1999), generally known as the Patten Commission. The Commission’s far reaching proposals included a change of name, badge and uniform, the introduction of 50/50 recruitment (50% Roman Catholic and 50% other), a new focus on human rights, a new district command and headquarter structure, a review of ‘Special Branch’ and covert techniques, a concern for ‘policing with the community’ and a significant voluntary severance process to make room for new recruits, unconnected with the past history of the organisation(Murphy 2013).

This paper reflects upon the first data collection phase of a long term processual study of organisational change within the Royal Ulster Constabulary / Police Service of Northern Ireland. This phase (1996-2002) covers early organisational change initiation (including the pre-change period) and implementation including the instigation of symbolic changes (name, badge, and crest) and structural changes (new HQ structure and District Command structure). It utilises internal documentation including messages from the organisations leaders, interviews with forty key informants (identified through a combination of snow-balling from referrals by initial contacts, and key interviews with significant individuals), as well as external documentation and commentary on public perceptions of the change. Using a processual lens (Langley, Smallman et al. 2013) it seeks to understand this initial change phase and its relative success in a highly politicised environment.

By engaging key individuals internally and externally, setting up a dedicated change team, adopting a non normative, non urgent, calming approach to dissent, communicating in orthodox and unorthodox ways with members, acknowledging the huge emotional strain of letting go of the organisation’s name and all it embodied, and re-emphasising the role of officers as ‘police first’, rather than ‘RUC first’, the organisations leadership remained in control of a volatile and unhappy organisational body and succeeded in moving it on through this initial phase, even while much of the political establishment lambasted them externally. Three years into this change process the organisation had a new name, a new crest, new structures, procedures and was deeply engaged in embedding the joint principles of human rights and community policing within its re-woven fabric. While significant problems remained, the new Police Service of Northern Ireland had successfully begun a long journey to full community acceptance in a post conflict context.

This case illustrates the significant challenges of leading change under political pressure, with external oversight and no space for failure(Hannah, Uhl-Bien et al. 2009). It empirically reflects the reality of change implementation as messy, disruptive and unpredictable and highlights the significance of political skill and contextual understanding to success in the early stages(Buchanan and Boddy 1992). The implications of this for change theory and the practice of change implementation are explored (Eisenhardt and Graebner 2007) and some conclusions drawn about what such an extreme case tells us about change generally and change implementation under pressure.

Parades, Flags, Carnivals and Riots: Public Space, Contestation and Transformation in Northern Ireland

This paper explores one of the defining aspects of politics and identity in Northern Ireland: the control and utilization of public space, particularly urban public space. Ethnopolitical conflict consistently reveals itself through contestation over public space. The role of ritual events is important in the development of political identity and group cohesion. The symbolic landscape will be constructed through displays of identity by dominant groups and their ability to control that landscape by inhibiting displays by other groups. This will reveal itself through frequent contests over rituals and symbols. This paper looks at the role of ritual events in civic spaces in Belfast but particularly asks what role they might play in conflict transformation. The 1998 agreement offered political structures that provided for shared power after 30 years of violent conflict. At the same time, there was an increase in contestation over public space as political groups within the previously marginalized Catholic community demanded recognition within the public sphere and a rebalancing of the public space through changes to the previously dominant Protestant and Unionist expression of identity. The paper concludes by suggesting that in “shared space” a new civic identity that spans the political and ethnic divisions has started to develop in Belfast and that this might evolve despite an increased residential division throughout the urban area.

The Dublin Lock Hospital: Medicine, Morality, Disease and Sin

Anecdotal evidence has it that when Dublin’s venereal disease hospital closed its doors for the last time in the 1950s, its administrative staff began to burn its records, starting with the most recent. This attempt to conceal the results of sexual profligacy is perhaps understandable in the rarefied climate of mid-century Catholic Ireland. However, the sense of shame attached to this institution has been pervasive. For example, of all Dublin’s major hospitals, the lock hospital remains the only one without a dedicated history. And, throughout its two centuries of existence, the ‘lock’ had often been a site of controversy and approbation.

The institution began in the eighteenth century as the most peripatetic, poor relation of the city’s voluntary hospitals, wandering indiscriminately through a series of temporary premises before finally achieving a permanent home and official recognition as a military-sponsored medical hospital in 1792. It also gained architectural extensions by both Richard and Francis Johnston and in the following decades. This new-found status and a growing re-conceptualisation of venereal disease as a legitimate medical problem rather than a matter of morality was, however, somewhat compromised by the choice of site at Townsend Street. The institution occupied a hidden part of city, appropriating the vacated home of the Hospital for Incurables, another marginalised group whose presence in the city had been viewed through the lens of superstition and fear. For the rest of its existence, the lock hospital would share this experience occupying a nebulous position between medicine and morality; disease and sin.

Using what’s left of the hospital’s records and a series of original architectural drawings, this paper discusses the presence and role of the lock hospital in the city in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century, tracking how changes in its administration and architectural form reflected wider attitudes towards disease, sexuality and gender in Georgian Dublin.

Dublin 1916: theatre of revolt

At Easter 1916, Dublin city centre was one of a series of sites throughout Ireland where a rebellion was staged against British rule. It was a strategic failure, swiftly crushed by superior British forces. The event, however, subsequently took a central role in the mythology of modern Ireland.

The first visual representations were of the conflict’s aftermath: photographic journeys through landscapes of ruin. From the distance of the camera, we see none of the pockmarks of shell bursts, nor the etchings of machine guns. Instead, traces of life in the city seem to have been swept aside by an unseen hand: the passing of millennia or a violent action of nature. Architecture alone has witnessed and recorded its presence. Amongst the fragments, the shell of the General Post Office (G.P.O.) in Sackville Street is one of the few buildings still wholly recognizable. The remnants of its classical form, portico and pediment, columns and entablature seem to transcend its prosaic modern functions and allude to something more ancient. The bewilderment of city’s inhabitants is also recorded. Dubliners have become inquisitive tourists in streets which hitherto were the locus of everyday life. They wander around aimlessly in a landscape as alien and picturesque as Pompeii. This shift in perception was captured by the Irish poet W.B. Yeats who hinted that Dublin, purged of modern commercialism had transcended its petty inadequacies to revive a slumbering heroic past.

‘I have met them at the close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses [.]’
All is changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.’

His comments were prescient. Initially unpopular, the republican leaders, executed by the British, slowly became recast as heroic martyrs. Similarly, the spaces where their heroism was forged became venerated. The G.P.O. and Sackville Street, however, already had a republican history. It was originally conceived in the eighteenth century as part of a series of magnificent urban spaces to provide an arena of spectacle and self-celebration for the colonial Anglo-Irish and their vision of a Protestant republic. O’Connell/Sackville Street became the temporal, geographical and mythical hinge upon which two different versions of Irish republicanism waxed and waned. Its recasting after independence as a space of Catholic Nationalism bore testimony to its consistency in providing a backdrop for the production of ritual and myth. In the 1920s and 30s, as the nascent country, beset with economic stagnation and political tensions, turned to spectacle as a salve for it social problems, O’Connell Street and the G.P.O. provided its most sacred sites. Within the introduction of new myths, however, individual as well as national identities were created and consolidated. The emerging identity of modern Ireland became inextricably linked with that of one ambitious politician. His uses of the G.P.O. in particular revealed a perceptive understanding of the political uses of classical architecture and urban space.

Old Town Glasgow: Squalor, Agitation and City Improvements

In 1862, Glasgow Corporation initiated the first of a series of three legislative acts which would become known collectively as the City Improvements Acts. Despite having some influence on the nature of the built fabric on the expanding city as a whole, the most extensive consequences of these acts was reserved for one specific area of the city, the remnants of the medieval Old Town. As the city had expanded towards all points of the compass in a regular, grid-iron structure throughout the nineteenth century, the Old Town remained singularly as a densely wrought fabric of medieval wynds, vennels, oblique passageways and accelerated tenementalisation. Here, as the rest of the city began to assume the form of an ordered entity, visible and classifiable, one could still find and addresses such as ‘Bridgegate, No. 29, backland, stair first left, three up, right lobby, door facing’ (quoted in Pacione, 1995).

Unsurprisingly, this place, where proximity to the midden (dung-heap) was considered an enviable position, was seen by the authorities as a major health hazard and a source not only of cholera, but also of the more alarming typhoid epidemic of 1842. Accordingly, the demolitions which occurred in the backlands of the Old Town under the first of the acts, the Glasgow Police Act of 1862, were justified on health and medical grounds. But disease was not the only social problem thought to issue from this district. Reports from social reformers including Fredrick Engels suggested that the decay of the area’s physical fabric could be extended to the moral profile of its inhabitants. This was in such a state of degeneracy that there were calls for a nearby military barracks to be relocated to more salubrious climes because troops were routinely coming into contact ‘with the most dissolute and profligate portion of the population’ (Peter Clonston, Lord Provost, June 1861). Perhaps more worrying for the city fathers, however, was that the barracks’ arsenal was seen as a potential source of arms for the militant and often illegal cotton workers’ unions and organisations who inhabited the Old Town as well as the districts to the east. In fact, the Old Town and East End had been the site of numerous working class actions and riots since 1787, including a strike of 60,000 workers in 1820, 100,000 in 1838, and the so-called Bread Riots of 1848 where shouts of ‘Vive La Revolution’ were reported in the Gallowgate.

The events in Paris in 1848 precipitated Baron Hausmann’s interventions into that city. The boulevards were in turn visited by members of Glasgow Corporation and ultimately, it can be argued, provided an example for Old Town Glasgow. This paper suggests that the city improvement acts carried a similarly complex and pervasive agenda, one which embodied not only health, class conflict and sexual morality but also the more local condition of sectarianism. And, like in Paris, these were played out spatially in a extensive reconfiguration of the urban fabric of the Old Town which, through the creation of new streets and a railway yard, not only made it more amenable to large scale military manoeuvres but also, opened up the area to capitalist accumulation. By the end of the works, the medieval heritage of the Old Town had been almost completely razed, the working class and Catholic East End had, through the insertion of the railway yard, been isolated from the city centre and approximately 70,000 people had been made homeless.

Precarious spaces and urban change in post-conflict Belfast

The Northern Ireland conflict is shaped by an ethno-national contest between a minority Catholic/Nationalist/Republican population who broadly want to see the reunification of Ireland; and a majority Protestant/Unionist/Loyalist one, who mainly wish to maintain the sovereign connection with Britain. After nearly three decades of violence, which intensified segregation in schooling, labour markets and especially housing, a Peace Agreement was signed on Good Friday 1998. This paper is concerned with the peace process after the Agreement, not so much for the ambiguous political compromise, but for the way in which the city is constitutive of transformation and how Belfast in particular, is now embedded with a range of social instabilities and spatial contradictions. The Agreement encouraged rapid economic expansion, inward investment, especially in knowledge–intensive sectors and a short-lived optimism that markets and the neo-liberal fix would drive the post-conflict, post-industrial and post-political city. Capital would trump ethnicity and the economic uplift would bind citizens to a new expression of hope based on property speculation, tourism and global corporate investment.