WOMEN DIVIDED

In the literature on Northern Ireland which has appeared since the outbreak of
the ‘Troubles’ in the late 1960s, women have been for the most part invisible.
Where they have been mentioned it has often been as ‘peace makers’ rather
than as active agents. Although women have been largely excluded from formal
politics, they have become increasingly involved in a range of political activities,
and in developing their own agendas. This book discusses women’s role in
Northern Ireland’s politics and society, and the ways in which women have
been divided by sectarianism and have fought to overcome it.
The central focus of Women Divided is the interrelation between gender and
religious inequalities in Northern Ireland. Politics in Northern Ireland has been
constructed around community loyalties, making it extremely difficult to develop
alternative agendas around women’s rights, or other progressive campaigns.
The book covers a broad range of issues to give an overview of Northern Irish
society and the ways in which it has been shaped by sectarianism and gender
inequality. The main areas discussed are the history of Northern Ireland and of
British policy in Ireland; the impact of conflict on women; labour market
inequalities; social policy and social divisions; women and politics; and women
and the ‘peace process’.
Gender and sectarianism are generally treated as separate phenomena in the
literature on Northern Ireland. This book integrates the two issues, and argues
that sectarian divisions have helped to sustain the patriarchal structures which
oppress all women in Northern Ireland. The book brings a new approach to a
range of issues, discussing both historical developments and contemporary events.
It will be of interest to students in a range of courses, and to all those interested
in Irish affairs.
Rosemary Sales is a Senior Lecturer in the Department of Sociology and Social
Policy, Middlesex University.
 INTERNATIONAL STUDIES OF
WOMEN AND PLACE
Edited by Janet Momsen, University of California at
Davis and Janice Monk, University of Arizona

The Routledge series of International Studies of Women and Place describes the diversity
and complexity of women’s experience around the world, working across different
geographies to explore the processes which underlie the construction of gender
and the life-worlds of women.
Other titles in this series:
FULL CIRCLES
Geographies of women over the life course
Edited by Cindi Katz and Janice Monk
‘VIVA’
Women and popular protest in Latin America
Edited by Sarah A.Radcliffe and Sallie Westwood
DIFFERENT PLACES, DIFFERENT VOICES
Gender and development in Africa, Asia and Latin America
Edited by Janet H.Momsen and Vivian Kinnard
SERVICING THE MIDDLE CLASSES
Class, gender and waged domestic labour in contemporary Britain
Nicky Gregson and Michelle Lowe
WOMEN’S VOICES FROM THE RAINFOREST
Janet Gabriel Townsend
GENDER, WORK, AND SPACE
Susan Hanson and Geraldine Pratt
WOMEN AND THE ISRAELI OCCUPATION
Edited by Tamar Mayer
FEMINISM/POSTMODERNISM/DEVELOPMENT
Edited by Marianne H.Marchand and Jane L.Parpart
WOMEN OF THE EUROPEAN UNION
The politics of work and daily life
Edited by Janice Monk and Maria Dolors García Ramon
WHO WILL MIND THE BABY?
Geographies of child care and working mothers
Edited by Kim England
 WOMEN DIVIDED
Gender, religion and politics in Northern Ireland

Rosemary Sales

London and New York

 First published in 1997
by Routledge
11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE

This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2003.

Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada

by Routledge
29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001

© 1997 Rosemary Sales

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or

reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic,
mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter
invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any
information storage or retrieval system, without permission in
writing from the publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Sales, Rosemary
Women divided: gender, religion and politics in Northern Ireland
/Rosemary Sales.
(International studies of women and place)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
1. Women in politics—Northern Ireland.
2. Women—Northern Ireland—Social conditions.
3. Religion and politics—Northern Ireland.
4. Northern Ireland—Politics and government.
I. Title. II. Series.
HQ1236.5.G7S25 1997
305.42´´09416–dc21 96–48678

ISBN 0-203-43730-6 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-74554-X (Adobe eReader Format)

ISBN 0-415-13765-9 (hbk)
ISBN 0-415-13766-7 (pbk)
To my mother
 CONTENTS

List of tables viii

Glossary ix
Acknowledgements xiii
Maps xv
1 INTRODUCTION 1
2 THE RISE AND FALL OF STORMONT 12
3 EXPLAINING THE CONFLICT 46
4 BRITISH POLICY UNDER DIRECT RULE 74
5 SOCIAL POLICY AND SOCIAL DIVISIONS 108
6 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN THE 1990s 136
7 ENGENDERING CHANGE 169
8 WOMEN AND THE ‘PEACE PROCESS’ 195
Notes 204
Bibliography 215
Index 228

vii
 TABLES

2.1 Unemployment as a proportion of the civilian labour force 37

2.2 Net emigration rates from Northern Ireland 38
2.3 Religion and economic change, 1961–71, by county 40
4.1 Employment in manufacturing, 1950–90 86
6.1 Religious composition of the population, 1971–91 138
6.2 Religion and unemployment, 1971–91 139
6.3 Religion and unemployment, 1991 and 1993 140
6.4 Unemployment in Belfast, 1991 141
6.5 Unemployment rates by age group, 1991 141
6.6a Male unemployment rates by religion and educational level, 1991 142
6.6b Female unemployment rates by religion and educational level, 1991 142
6.7 Religion and economic activity, 1971–91 143
6.8 Economic activity rate by religion, 1991 143
6.9 Economic activity by age group, 1991 144
6.10 Proportion of population of working age in work, 1991 144
6.11 Full-time employment—employees working over 30 hours as
percentage of all employees, 1991 145
6.12 Proportion of population of working age in full-time work, 1991 145
6.13 Male employment by industrial order, 1981 and 1991 147
6.14a Catholic and Protestant occupations, 1971 148
6.14b Catholic and Protestant occupations, 1981 149
6.15 Religion and occupation, 1991 150
6.16a Religion and occupational group: 1991, men 150
6.16b Religion and occupational group: 1991, women 151
6.17 Source of household income by religion of head of household 151
6.18 Average gross hourly earnings, full-time employees, 1994 152
6.19 Employment status of women in relation to partner 160
6.20 Childcare provision by type, 1989 and 1993–4 161
6.21 Employment by Standard Industrial Classification (SIC), 1991 164
7.1 Women in national parliaments in the European Union, 1994 172
7.2 Membership of ICTU affiliated unions in Northern Ireland, 1995 181
7.3 Benefits received from staying in the women’s group 191

viii
 GLOSSARY
Alliance Party (APNI)
Democratic Unionist Party (DUP)
Democratic Left
Irish National Liberation Army
Irish Republican Army (IRA)
Formed in 1970, it is often referred to by
journalists as the ‘non-sectarian Alliance
Party’, although the majority of its support
comes from the Protestant community. It
supports devolved, power-sharing
government within Northern Ireland, as
well as an Irish dimension.
Established in 1971 by the Revd. Ian
Paisley. The DUP takes a hard-line loyalist
position on constitutional questions and
provided the first major electoral challenge
to the official Unionist Party from within
Unionism.
Formed out of the collapse of the Workers
Party. Organises in both parts of Ireland.
Has won around 5 per cent of the vote
and some parliamentary seats in the South
(where elections are based on proportional
representation) but support in the North
is lower.
Republican socialist paramilitary
organisation, split from the Official IRA.
Continues sporadic military campaign
under various names.
Republican paramilitary organisation. First
emerged from the Irish Volunteers during
the War of Independence (1919–21). The
IRA was moribund for several decades, and
revived with the escalation of conflict in the
late 1960s. Following the split from the
Provisionals in 1970, the Official IRA called
a ceasefire in 1972 and is now defunct.
ix
 GLOSSARY

Irish Republican Socialist Party Split from Official Sinn Fein in opposition
(IRSP) to the former’s increasingly ‘revisionist’
position on nationalism. Close links with
I N LA. The party gained minimal
electoral support and is now defunct.
Nationalist A Nationalist (capital N) refers to a
member of the Nationalist Party. A
nationalist (lower case) refers to a
supporter of Irish nationalism. Generally,
though not exclusively, from the Catholic
community.
Northern Ireland Labour Party The N I LP operated throughout the
(NILP) Stormont period, attracting its highest
vote, 26 per cent, in 1962. Strongly pro-
partitionist, it could not provide the basis
for a non-sectarian alliance of workers.
Support collapsed following the
development of the civil rights movement,
and it is now defunct.
Progressive Unionist Party (PUP) Formed during the 1970s, it has ‘close
links’ with the loyalist paramilitaries, the
UVF. The more left-wing of the fringe
loyalist parties.
Sinn Fein (SF) Formed in 1905, it became the main
nationalist party during the war of
independence. Split between pro- and anti-
Treaty forces in 1921 led to the emergence
of the two major constitutional political
parties in the South (Fine Gael and Fianna
Fail). Sinn Fein continued to oppose
recognition of partition. It split in 1970
between Officials and Provisionals.
Official Sinn Fein became the Workers’
Party, later the Democratic left.
Provisional Sinn Fein is now known as Sinn
Fein, and has ‘close links’ with the IRA.
Sinn Fein organises throughout Ireland, but
draws most of its support in the North.
Social Democratic and Labour Formed in 1970 by members of the former
Party (SDLP) National Party and civil rights and
community activists. The SDLP is the main
constitutional nationalist party in Northern
Ireland, and draws its support mainly from
the Catholic community. Has ‘fraternal
links’ with the British Labour Party.

x
 GLOSSARY
Ulster Defence Association (UDA)
Ulster Democratic Party (UDP)
Ulster Freedom Fighters (UFF)
Ulster Unionist Party (UUP)
Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF)
Unionist
United Kingdom Unionist Party
Women’s Coalition
Workers’ Party (WP)
Formed during the 1970s, the UDA is the
larger of the main Loyalist paramilitary
organisations.
Loyalist political party with close links
with the UDA and UFF. Formed in 1987.
Loyalist paramilitary grouping, it is
widely believed that military operations
claimed by the UFF are actually linked
to the UDA.
The largest party in Northern Ireland, also
known as the Official Unionist Party.
Governed uninterruptedly at Stormont
from 1920 until Direct Rule in 1972. Close
institutional links with the British
Conservative Party, Unionist MPs took
the Conservative whip until the early
1970s.
Loyalist paramilitary organisation. Takes
its name from the army recruited to
oppose Home Rule at the beginning of
the century. Began a campaign of sectarian
murders in the 1960s.
A Unionist (capital U) refers to a member
of a Unionist Party. A unionist (lower case)
believes in the maintenance of the current
constitutional position of Northern Ireland
and the Union with Great Britain.
Generally, though not exclusively, from
the Protestant community.
Breakaway from the Official Unionist
Party in the 1990s, it opposes the
Downing Street Declaration, and
supports integration of Northern Ireland
within the UK.
Cross-community grouping of women
activists formed to contest the elections
for the Northern Ireland Forum in May
1996.
Formed out of Official Sinn Fein, and took
a strongly revisionist position on the
national question. Collapsed in 1992.
xi
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Much of this book is based on my Ph.D thesis, completed in 1993 at Middlesex

University. I am grateful to my supervisors on this project: Geoffrey Pilling,
without whose encouragement I would not have started; Bob Rowthorn, whose
experience and knowledge of the political economy of Northern Ireland was
immensely valuable; and above all to Eleonore Kofman, whose support was
crucial in enabling me to finish the work and who has been a constant source of
inspiration. Middlesex University gave me study leave to complete the work
and funded visits to Belfast.
I would like to thank the many people, in Northern Ireland and Britain, who
have helped me in the preparation of this book, particularly all the interviewees
in Belfast and Derry. Numerous people in Britain and Ireland have helped with
ideas and information, and suggested different ways of approaching the issues. I
would like to thank in particular Christine Acheson, Martin Collins, Anna Eggert,
James Goodman, Gery Lawless, Dot Lewis, Inez McCormack, Ruth Moore,
Ronnie Munck, Peter Shirlow, Bill Rolston, Ruth Taillon, and Joanne Vance.
None of these is of course responsible for the final shape of the book, or the
views expressed.
I am grateful to the staff of the Fair Employment Commission and the Equal
Opportunities Commission for Northern Ireland, who have been very helpful
in responding to my queries and supplying me with data. Thanks are also due
to the staff at the Linenhall Library and the Library of the Northern Ireland
Housing Executive in Belfast. I received valuable help from several trade union
organisations, particularly the Northern Ireland offices of NUPE (now
UNISON) and of the Irish Congress of Trade Unions.
I am grateful to my editors, Janet Momsen and Jan Monk for their support of
this project and for their careful comments on earlier drafts, and to Sarah Lloyd
at Routledge. Thanks also to Steve Chilton at Middlesex University for
constructing the maps.
I would like to thank the following for permission to use material contained
in the tables: Appletree Press (Tables 2.1 and 2.2); Polity Press (Table 2.3); the
Northern Ireland Economic Council (Table 4.1); HMSO (Tables 6.2 and 6.6);
the Policy Planning and Research Unit of the Department of Economic

xiii
 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Development (Tables 6.3, 6.5, 6.8, 6.9, 6.10, 6.12, 6.18); the Fair Employment
Commission (Tables 6.7, 6.14, 6.16, 6.17); the Equal Opportunities Commission
for Northern Ireland (Tables 6.18 and 6.19); the University of Ulster (Table
7.3).
Finally I would like to thank my husband, Keith Lichman, and my sons,
Seán and Joel, for their patience while I have been working on this book and for
their practical and emotional support.

xiv
 Northern Ireland: Catholic population by county
Note: Catholic proportion of population is calculated from the 1991
Census as the percentage of those stating a religion (i.e. excluding ‘not
stated’ and ‘none’).
Belfast area: Catholic population by ward
Note: see note to previous map.
 1

INTRODUCTION

To many outsiders, politics in Northern Ireland appears to be about an archaic

struggle between two groups defined in religious terms—Protestants and
Catholics1—whose leaders all seem to be men. Women, and women’s concerns,
have been largely invisible in the reports and in much of the literature generated
by the ‘Troubles’—the euphemism for the violent conflict which has dominated
Northern Ireland for much of the past twenty-five years.2 Where women have
been prominent in representations of the conflict, they have generally been
portrayed as the ‘peace makers’, uninvolved in the conflict itself.
In 1994, Republican and loyalist paramilitaries announced ceasefires, halting
their military campaigns, and initiating a ‘peace process’. Sadly, the opportunities
opened up for a transformation in Northern Irish society were not seized. The
response of the British Government in particular was grudging and suspicious,
and the delays in bringing about all-party talks led to the resumption of violence
by the IRA seventeen months later. At the time of writing, October 1996, the
loyalist ceasefire is still holding, but in September 1996, loyalist prisoners
associated with the Ulster Defence Association announced that they no longer
supported the ceasefire. This, together with the IRA’s return to violence, may
have delivered fatal blows to the already faltering peace process.
One of the ironies of the ‘peace process’ has been the absence of women—the
‘peace makers’—from the negotiations. Discussions between party leaders have
been conducted mainly in secret, and the agenda has been narrowly constricted.
Women have largely been excluded from the formal political process in Northern
Ireland, and therefore from a role within the peace process itself.
Women, however, play an active role in the politics and society of Northern
Ireland. They have been at the forefront of community organisations which
have attempted to unite both communities around issues of common concern.
Activity around ‘women’s issues’ has gained momentum in the 1990s and has
involved large and varied groups of women in both communities. Many women
have also been active in the political movements in Northern Ireland. They have
been prominent in peace movements, but some women have also become involved
in paramilitary activity in both loyalist and Republican organisations, and in the
political parties associated with them.

1
 WOMEN DIVIDED

Women are increasingly asserting their own demands, which challenge the
mainstream agendas of what is traditionally defined as politics within Northern
Ireland. In order to preserve unity between women—to allow work on areas
where they can agree—women’s groups have tended to avoid debating and taking
positions on the issues which divide the communities. Some have even suggested
that women have no real interest in the issues surrounding the conflict. Others
argue that women have a vital interest in the outcome of the conflict, and in the
political institutions that are developed. For women (predominantly Protestants)
who identify with unionism, maintaining the link with Britain is crucial not only
to their own identity, but as a means to secure women’s interests, particularly
through the economic resources provided through government expenditure. For
nationalist (predominantly Catholic) women, the struggle for women’s rights
within Northern Ireland cannot be separated from the broader struggle against
the injustices inherent in the Northern Ireland state. While most women would
agree that women’s rights must be placed at the heart of any new agenda for
Ireland’s future, the separation of ‘women’s issues’ from the mainstream political
agenda risks marginalising women’s concerns.
This book is about the experience of women in a divided society. It discusses
women’s role in the economy and politics of Northern Ireland, and the changes
brought about by twenty-five years of conflict. Women from the two communities
have responded differently to the conflict, and to the problems and opportunities
it opened up. The book also discusses attempts by groups of women to overcome
the sectarian divide, and the possibilities of developing a common agenda for
women.
The conflict has often been portrayed as a religious dispute. The two
communities are defined in terms of religious affiliation, and the terms ‘Protestant’
and ‘Catholic’ have been used as ‘boundary markers’ for the two groups. But
these different political and national identities stem from the different historical
experiences of colonialism, and from their relations to the state in Northern
Ireland. The origin of the present conflict lies in the mass protests of the civil
rights movement in the 1960s against the systematic exclusion of Catholics within
Northern Ireland from political and economic power.
The divisions which now appear as religious differences originate from the
different patterns of colonial relationships established in Ireland. In the South,
settlement was limited, and colonists were mainly absentee landlords. The North
was more densely settled by people from England and Scotland, who came from
a variety of class backgrounds, including artisans and peasants. They were marked
out from the native Irish by their Protestant religion, and by the privileges they
obtained first in relation to land tenure, and later in the industrial sphere.
Protestants have tended to identify themselves as British, and as separate from
the Catholic Irish, although this has been by no means constant. In the eighteenth
century Protestants were in the vanguard of Irish nationalism and only in the
twentieth century did the divisions become firmly entrenched with the formation
of Northern Ireland.

2
 INTRODUCTION

Northern Ireland was established in 1920, following the war of independence

waged by Irish Republicans against British rule in Ireland. The Protestant
population in the North opposed independence, and fought to retain their links
with Britain, the Union. Ireland was partitioned into two states, one of which
became the independent Irish Republic. The six North Eastern counties became
Northern Ireland, and remained in the United Kingdom, with a semi-autonomous
parliament at Stormont outside Belfast.
Unionists were in a majority in Northern Ireland, but their control over the
state was fragile. Northern Ireland contained a minority of Catholics, most of
whom identified with Irish nationalism, while Unionists were in a minority in
Ireland as a whole. To secure their rule, the Unionist majority in Northern
Ireland institutionalised discrimination against Catholics, while the police
became a (virtually) Protestant force, with a wide range of emergency powers
at its disposal. Northern Ireland was, in the words of its first Prime Minister, a
Protestant state,3 with the state apparatus used ruthlessly to maintain Unionist
control.
Northern Ireland became a divided society, in which the separation and
alienation of Protestants and Catholics became part of everyday experience.
Politics has centred around community loyalties, giving little space for alternative
agendas. The mainstream parties draw their support almost exclusively from
one community or the other. Class and gender loyalties became subordinated to
community loyalties, making alternative politics difficult to sustain.
Partition created conservative regimes in both the North and the South, in
which the churches have had a powerful influence on state policy making. Women
were divided from each other both geographically and politically. Northern
women were separated by the border from Southern women, but within Northern
Ireland itself, Catholic and Protestant women were divided on community lines.

NORTHERN IRELAND’S CONTESTED PLACE

The conflict in Northern Ireland is not merely about relations between the two
communities within the state, it is about wider identification with territory and
culture. For Unionists, Northern Ireland is part of the United Kingdom, and
they identify as British. Nationalists claim an identity with the rest of Ireland.
Northern Ireland’s contested national identity is at the heart of the conflict. It
is formally part of the United Kingdom of Britain and Northern Ireland, but
even the name of the state suggests an ambivalence. For Protestants their
Britishness is at the root of their political identity, but Northern Ireland is not
part of Britain, which consists of England, Scotland and Wales. Britain is referred
to as ‘GB’ or the ‘mainland’, which is ‘over the water’. Other unionists describe
themselves as Ulstermen or -women, but this too is problematic. Northern Ireland
was carved out of the ancient nine-county province of Ulster, but three of the
original counties are now in the Irish Republic. Nationalists have a less ambiguous
sense of national identity. They claim affiliation with Ireland as a whole, and

3
 WOMEN DIVIDED

aspire to a united Ireland. Many challenge the legitimacy of Northern Ireland,

and refer to it as ‘the Six Counties’ to underline its artificiality.
For the people of Britain, the loyalty of Protestants to their Britishness is generally
a matter of indifference. Many British people were hardly aware of Northern
Ireland as part of their own state until the mass protests of the civil rights movement
brought British soldiers onto the streets of Belfast and Derry and onto their television
screens. Events in Northern Ireland are generally portrayed as a succession of
crises and violent incidents, which most British people prefer to ignore.
The ambivalent status of Northern Ireland is demonstrated in the Prevention
of Terrorism Act (PTA), passed in the wake of the bombing of a public house in
Birmingham in 1974. The PTA allows terrorist suspects to be deported from
Britain to Northern Ireland—a form of ‘internal exile’. Critics also point out the
double standards involved: suspected terrorists deemed too dangerous to be
allowed in Britain, are able to remain at liberty in Northern Ireland.
For over twenty-five years, Northern Ireland has been governed directly by
the British Government in London, by parties which do not exist in Northern
Ireland.4 The most distinct of the regions of the United Kingdom, Northern
Ireland has the least autonomy and local accountability. While in many areas
British laws and policies are transferred to Northern Ireland, the priorities of
policy makers have been quite different from those in relation to Britain. Women’s
concerns have remained a low priority for politicians and policy makers.

WOM EN’S PLACE IN NORTHERN IRELAND

Northern Ireland was founded on the exclusion of women as well as Catholics
from full citizenship. The Unionist state was conservative on social and economic
questions, and women were discouraged from taking on public roles in politics
and within the wider social and economic life. The past three decades have seen
major economic and social changes, with women increasingly involved in the
public sphere. They remain largely excluded from formal politics. There has
been no woman MP for Northern Ireland since the 1960s, and the proportion
of women among local councillors is low.
Sectarianism, and the construction of political and social life around
community loyalties, has been a powerful force in maintaining women’s
subordination. A national identity based on religious affiliation has strengthened
the Churches within both communities as a focus for their common interests.
Church leaders are often called upon as spokesmen (sic) for their community. In
the Protestant community, many elected politicians are ministers of the Church,
most notably Dr Ian Paisley, leader of the Democratic Unionist Party who
combines defence of the Union with fiery fundamentalist and anti-Catholic
rhetoric. The exclusion of Catholics from state power under Stormont gave the
Catholic Church a wider role in the social life of the Catholic community. Both
Churches have played a prominent role in welfare services, cultural life and
schooling and the wider politics of the community.

4
 INTRODUCTION

The Churches, both Protestant and Catholic, have promoted conservative

views on social issues, particularly in relation to the family and sexuality. The
Churches promote and reinforce notions of deference and obedience, and
conformity to a rigid code of sexual behaviour. The sexual division of labour in
the Church—with male clergy and a predominandy female membership, whose
role is largely confined to domestic tasks—is a metaphor for gender relations in
the wider sphere of social and political life.
One of the few areas of agreement between politicians and clergy from both
sides has been their opposition to abortion and gay rights. Both Catholic and
Protestant have campaigned against the Brooke Clinic which provides
contraceptive advice to young people, and against abortion. Ian Paisley famously
set up ‘Ulster Against Sodomy’ to try to prevent a ruling from the European
Court to extend the 1967 Act legalising homosexual acts between consenting
adults to Northern Ireland. The role of religion in cementing political allegiances,
moreover, means that politicians have been reluctant to challenge the Churches’
teaching on these issues.
The civil rights movement of the 1960s challenged the second-class status of
Catholics within Northern Ireland. It led to dramatic changes in the relations of
the two communities to the state, ultimately bringing the overthrow of the local
Northern Ireland parliament at Stormont. The movement did not, however,
challenge the gender inequality which has been a central feature of both
communities. When the movement escalated from civil protest to armed conflict,
residential and workplace segregation increased, bringing greater polarisation
along religious lines. As the conflict developed, the ties of community became
more strongly entrenched, as armed conflict placed a premium on loyalty.
Feminists in Northern Ireland have had to confront the ideological dominance
of Church teaching, and the idea that to challenge the prevailing politics of their
community is disloyal. To identify as a Catholic ‘was, and still is, perceived by
many Catholics as an anti-colonial act’ (McLaughlin 1986:369). Colonial relations
have ensured the survival in Northern Ireland of a particularly conservative
form of Catholicism. Within the nationalist movements, the rights of women
have been seen as, at best, secondary to the national struggle (Ward 1983). The
nationalist history of conflict with state authority has nevertheless meant that
Catholic women have a tradition of struggle with which they can identify. Women
in nationalist areas played an active role in the community protests from the
early days of the civil rights movement, and are still generally more active in
political and community groups than most Protestant women.
Protestant women have remained much less visible. The public face of the
Protestant community is overwhelmingly male, represented by male political
and Church leaders, many of them with strongly anti-feminist views. The ties of
the Protestant community to the Union make it even more difficult for Protestant
women to challenge the authority of ‘their’ state and political leaders. Those
who fight for their own interests are seen as ‘rocking the boat’ (Gordon 1990).
Feminism is seen as alien, and even associated with Republicanism.5

5
 WOMEN DIVIDED

The past twenty years have seen major shifts within the Protestant community.
Social and economic restructuring, and the policy shifts brought about by twenty
years of ‘the Troubles’ have undermined the economic basis of Protestant
privilege, loosening the ties which have bound the Protestant community together.
While the response has often been fear and defensiveness, it has also opened up
new possibilities for women to become more active in economic and political
life. Women from both communities have become active in informal politics,
and are increasingly acknowledged as ‘the backbone of the community’.6
Those working on ‘women’s issues’ have tended to avoid divisive issues in
order to build dialogue and activity across the sectarian divide. In the elections
to the Forum in June 1996, a Women’s Coalition was formed to unite women
across the divide around issues of common interest, and to try to gain a voice
for women in the peace process. The hastily formed group gained nearly 2 per
cent of the vote, and two places on the Forum. The intervention was not however
welcomed by all feminists, since many felt it was necessary to take a position on
the constitutional issues being debated within the Forum.

THE RELIGIOUS DIVIDE IN CONTEMPORARY

NORTHERN IRELAND
Divisions between Protestant and Catholic reach into every area of life in Northern
Ireland, affecting where people live, go to school, work, drink and play sport;
who their friends and neighbours are, and whom they marry. For most, it
determines national identity and political allegiance. The identification of
Protestants with unionism (support for the maintenance of Northern Ireland as
part of the United Kingdom); and Catholics with nationalism (who favour a
united Ireland as an immediate or long-term goal) though by no means complete,
is nevertheless powerful.
Religion is not an immediately visible identity. Protestants and Catholics
look more or less the same; speak the same language;7 share much popular
culture, watch the same television programmes. But segregation is more all-
embracing than between apparently more dissimilar groups in Britain and Europe.
The extent of separation varies across Northern Ireland. The major cities have
rigidly demarcated Protestant and Catholic areas. In thirty-five of Belfast’s fifty-
one wards, the population was at least 90 per cent Catholic or Protestant in
1991 (Murray 1995:218). Many rural areas are overwhelmingly populated by
one community The wealthy constituency of North Down has such a solidly
Protestant population that no nationalist party put up a candidate in the by-
election in June 1995. Segregation also varies with social class. It is most intense
within working-class ghettos, where residential segregation is highest, and mass
unemployment further restricts the range of social contact (see e.g. Dunn 1995:5).
Residential segregation provides the basis for the promotion of a specific
cultural heritage and a common set of values and beliefs. This is compounded
by an almost entirely segregated school system (Murray 1985; 1995). Many

6
 INTRODUCTION

people grow up with no social contact with people from the other community.
Women, who are less likely to work outside their own communities, are even
less likely than men to come into contact with people from the other community.
The rate of ‘mixed marriages’ is estimated to be as low as 9 per cent (O’Connor
1993:168). Many of those who marry outside their own community lose touch
with one family or both, and often have to hide their origin. Many risk not just
disapproval but physical danger.
Since religion is not a visible identity, social life within ‘mixed’ settings depends
on ‘telling’—the ‘signs by which Catholics and Protestants arrive at religious
ascription in their every day interaction’ (Howe 1990:13). The Fair Employment
Commission (formerly the Agency),8 is responsible for monitoring the religious
composition of employment. It uses a variety of indicators to assign individuals
to a religious group where religion is unknown. This list itself indicates the
depth of the divisions, and includes:
the forenames and surnames, the schools attended, the subjects studied,
the leisure interests, the employment histories and the persons named as
referees on application forms.
(FEA 1986a:3)
The religion of someone born in Britain has no social meaning in Northern
Ireland. The FEC’s guidelines, for example, use the classifications ‘Protestant’,
‘Roman Catholic’ and ‘Other’. ‘Other’ includes ‘those not born or educated in
Northern Ireland’ (FEA 1986a:5).
While religious divisions are so deeply embedded in the structures of
economic, social and political life, they are also ‘invisible’ in another sense.
Religion is rarely discussed in ‘polite’ society. As Bruce puts it, ‘there are two
languages spoken. There is what you say in public and in “mixed” company
and there is what you say in private, among your own people’ (Bruce 1994:vii).
Since religious identity has such wide-ranging meanings, this implies that
large areas of discussion are closed off. Contact between Protestant and Catholic
is characterised by ‘avoidance’ (McAuley 1994:56). A study of women in informal
organisations found that even in mixed areas, these groups tended to have a
membership drawn almost exclusively from one community (Morgan and Fraser
1994:42–3), reflecting segregated social networks. Where members of the other
community were present, avoidance was expressed in the phrase ‘religion doesn’t
matter’ (ibid.: 51). When discussing sectarianism in the workplace with trade
union officers, I was frequently told that ‘religion doesn’t matter here’. One
official, to show how little religion mattered, assured me that ‘we never discuss
politics’ in the union, thus inadvertently demonstrating the constraints which
sectarianism places on debate. The need for ‘telling’, however, suggests that
religion does indeed matter in social interaction.
In a study of Catholics in Northern Ireland, O’Connor found that most people
she interviewed were unwilling to discuss the Troubles openly with Protestants.
Discussing Catholic response to loyalist violence, she suggests that Catholics

7
 WOMEN DIVIDED

tend not to solicit Protestant reaction, ‘either because they assume those
Protestants they know are as disgusted as they are—or because they are afraid to
discover that is not so’ (O’Connor 1993:147). A similar point was made to me
by Jane, a Protestant academic who is active within the community. She told
me, ‘I don’t like to criticise to Catholic friends what the IRA are doing, even
though they may be more critical than I am’. She described her feelings when
she visited a friend in a Catholic area during the Republican hunger strikes:
I was frightened—tension was very high, Bobby Sands was near to death—
but I did not tell her that I felt scared—I don’t know what of—and to this
day I haven’t spoken to her about it. Now I would feel more able to talk
about it, but there is a subconscious censorship to respect others’ feelings.
No doubt they do the same.9
Although the meanings attached to a person’s identification with one community
or another have little to do with religious belief, the Churches play a powerful
role in cementing community identity. Church attendance is the highest in Europe
outside the Irish Republic (Moxon-Browne 1983), and is particularly high among
women (Morgan 1992). Even among those who do not go to Church, ‘the
language of religious identity is not very distant’ (Morrow et al 1994:6), since
the Churches ‘provide much of the framework within which apparently secular
social personal and community life is lived’ (ibid.: 19).
A range of explanations has been developed to explain the conflict between
the two communities. One group of explanations, associated with unionists,
places primary responsibility on Catholics for their unequal status, stressing, for
example, ‘cultural differences’. A second group is critical of past inequalities,
and recommends reform through legislative and/or economic regeneration. This
liberal group argues for the possibility of reconciliation through equal
opportunities legislation and reform of governmental institutions through some
form of power-sharing. While these positions appear to take a neutral stance on
the constitution, by accepting the status quo and condemning nationalism, they at
least implicitly support the Union. The third group argues that Northern Ireland
within its present borders is inherently undemocratic and unreformable. These
positions are discussed in more detail in Chapter 3.
These debates cut across other political allegiances, and have divided feminists,
as well as other progressive movements, leading to fundamentally different
conclusions about the political situation, and the preferred constitutional
position.10 Although Protestant and Catholic feminists may agree on a whole
range of social and economic issues, they are unlikely to agree on ‘politics’ as it
is defined in Northern Ireland, or to vote for the same party.
The religious divide is increasingly described in terms of ‘ethnic’ division
(see e.g. Howe 1990; Bruce 1994; McAuley 1994). Discussions of ethnicity,
particularly in relation to Northern Ireland, have given limited attention to gender,
but ethnicity is always gendered, and communal boundaries often use differences
in the way women are socially constructed as markers (Anthias and Yuval Davis

8
 INTRODUCTION

1992:113–14). In situations of conflict, patriarchal control over women may be

reinforced, particularly where the group perceives itself under threat. The rise of
racism and xenophobia in Europe, for example, has led to a reassertion of
traditional values—a visible sign of which is the wearing of the veil (Kofman and
Sales 1992:36).11 In Northern Ireland, the attempt by men to maintain sexual
control over women has been less visible, but has been evident in the attacks
and murders of women who transgress community norms, particularly by having
sexual relationships with men from ‘the other side’.

THE PLAN OF THE BOOK

The central focus of this book is the relationship between sectarian divisions
and gender inequality in Northern Ireland. While most of the writings on ‘the
Troubles’ has ignored women’s contribution, much of the literature about women
has been silent on the question of religious divisions, making the tacit assumption
that women are oppressed as a gender, but their experiences as women are
basically similar. This book argues that women’s lives have been shaped by
sectarian divisions, and that these have been experienced differently by women
from the two communities. Divisions between women have been institutionalised
within Northern Ireland, and the dominance of the sectarian divide in mainstream
politics has maintained a conservative agenda, in which women’s rights have
had little space. The struggle for women’s rights cannot, however, be divorced
from the struggle against the undemocratic structures of Northern Ireland.
Chapter 2 outlines the historical background to the conflict. It discusses the
developments which led to the creation of Northern Ireland, and examines the
nature of the Stormont regime. The second part of the chapter discusses the
events which led to the collapse of Stormont in 1972 and its replacement with
Direct Rule from Westminster. The focus of the chapter is on the ways in which
sectarian and gender inequalities have been incorporated and reincorporated
into changing economic and political structures within Northern Ireland.
Chapter 3 discusses in more depth the meaning of religious divisions, and
competing explanations for their origin and persistence. It argues that these
divisions are best understood as ethnic divisions, in which processes of domination
and subordination are reproduced through differential relations to the state. It
explores the different gendered ideologies of the two communities, and their
implications for women’s response to the conflict.
Chapter 4 presents an overview of state policy in the period of Direct Rule
from 1972. It examines firstly the institutional and political structures of the
Direct Rule administration and the broad developments in British Government
policy towards Northern Ireland. This is followed by a discussion of economic
policy, and the increasing dependence of the economy on Britain. The final
section reviews the content and implementation of equality legislation in relation
to gender and religion. It discusses the limitations of equality legislation, and
questions whether the replacement of Stormont with an avowedly neutral

9
 WOMEN DIVIDED

administration was sufficient to overcome deep-rooted structural divisions within

Northern Ireland.
Chapter 5 discusses social policy, using a number of specific areas as examples
(housing, education, social services, and the regulation of sexuality). Social policy,
particularly since Direct Rule, broadly follows the British model in terms of its
structure and resources, but is inevitably shaped by the specific Northern Ireland
structures. The official approach in Northern Ireland has been ‘religion blind’,
but social policy has accommodated in different ways to sectarianism. The
examples chosen illustrate areas where social policy is most clearly influenced
by sectarian division. The regulation of sexuality is the area in which official
policy is most different from British policy, and where the influence of the
Churches has been strongest in determining policy.
Chapter 6 examines patterns of employment since Direct Rule, and the
implications for gender and religious inequalities. Economic restructuring, the
growth of public sector employment, and the development of equality legislation
have fundamentally changed the employment opportunities for both communities.
They have brought growing disparities within each community as well as continuing
inequality between them. Women have entered the labour force in growing
numbers, but their position in the labour market is structured by religion. As
traditional industry has declined, Protestant male unemployment has risen
dramatically. The reforms carried out under Direct Rule have created a new
Catholic middle class, while the situation for those at the bottom (disproportionately
women and Catholics) has deteriorated with privatisation and deregulation. It is
argued that gender inequalities and sectarianism combine to create specific relations
to the labour market for Catholic and Protestant women.
Chapter 7 discusses women’s political activity, and the problems of developing
a common agenda for women’s rights. The centrality of the sectarian divide has
obscured the realities of other forms of inequality. Organisations and campaigns
with an explicitly feminist agenda generally attempt to appeal to all women, but
have often found insuperable barriers to bridging the sectarian divide, since
women are separated by the different traditions and loyalties of the two
communities. Women are, however, increasingly active in a range of political
activities.
Chapter 8 discusses women’s response to the ‘peace process’ and the problems
of developing a women’s agenda within a debate dominated by the community
divide. Women’s rights must be a central element in any agenda for peace and
reconciliation, while organising and campaigning around women’s common
concerns offers the best possibility for moving forward to break down barriers
between the two communities. The search for unity between women, however,
has led to attempts to separate ‘women’s issues’ from other political concerns
and risks marginalising women’s agenda.
The book is based on a range of published sources, including official reports
and reports produced by women’s and community groups, and on unpublished
data obtained from a variety of sources, including official and semi-official bodies.

10
 INTRODUCTION

It also includes material obtained through interviews carried out over a period
of four years. These interviews included women engaged in formal and informal
politics, community activists, trade unionists and others concerned with equal
opportunities and human rights issues. Where the views of interviewees are
well known within the public domain, I have referred to them by name. In view
of the sensitivity of the issues discussed, it has been necessary in many cases to
disguise the identity of interviewees. Their names have been changed, and their
comments have been used to illustrate the arguments in the book rather than to
tell individual stories which might make them identifiable.
Most of the interviews were undertaken during the period 1992–95, and
much of the material for the book was gathered in this period. The fast pace of
events in Northern Ireland makes it impossible to report all the changes that
have taken place since then, and which will have occurred before this book
appears in print. I do not believe that these changes will invalidate the main
points of my analysis, although in view of the pessimism of many of my
conclusions, perhaps I should hope that they will.

11
 2

THE RISE AND FALL OF

STORMONT

INTRODUCTION
With the creation of Northern Ireland in 1920, class, gender and sectarian
domination became institutionalised in the apparatus of the local state based at
Stormont. While its roots can be traced to the seventeenth century, partition
was by no means inevitable, and has out-lasted the expectations of many people
involved in its foundation. Most discussions of economic and social policy now
treat the Northern Ireland state as ‘given’. But the continuing struggle over the
legitimacy of partition makes Irish history an arena of debate and conflict between
rival nationalist and Unionist versions, with each using it to legitimate current
political positions (Hutton and Stewart 1991:1).
In the South, this debate has a different dynamic, with the ‘nationalist’ view
of history contested as part of a continuing struggle over the identity of Irish
nationhood. As the Irish Republic1 strives to become a modern European nation,
many on left and right see the preoccupations of nationalism as belonging to the
past. The southern state is, however, as much a product of partition as Northern
Ireland, and its character has been important in forming Protestant views of
Irishness, and reinforcing partitionist sentiment.
As revisionist2 history attempts to change the discourse of Irish history, feminist
historians are developing their own critique of mainstream writing. Most of the
literature on both sides of the nationalist debate has assumed that the key actors
were male. Women in Irish history have generally appeared only as ‘the oppressed
“other”’ (Luddy and Murphy, cited in Hutton and Stewart 1991:3). Nationalist
history has generally confined its discussion of women’s contribution to major
figures such as Maud Gonne and Constance Markievicz. There has been little
examination of the position of women in general in the nationalist movement,
or the relation between the nationalist movement and struggles for women’s
rights. While partition has been denounced as a betrayal of Republican
aspirations, and a defeat for the working class (see e.g. Beresford Ellis 1985), the
implications for women’s position have been much less prominent.3
It is beyond the scope of this book to make a detailed evaluation of these
debates, and the material in this chapter is confined to secondary sources. Its

12
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

purpose is to outline the historical background to the creation of Northern Ireland,

and the experience of the Stormont regime, in order to provide an understanding
of social divisions in present-day Northern Ireland. Given the contested nature
of this history, the evaluation of events is inevitably contentious. The focus is on
the construction of sectarian and gender divisions, and their reconstruction within
changing economic and political conditions.
The first section discusses the origins of partition, tracing the development of
the divisions which led to the establishment of the Stormont regime. Since
Northern Ireland is a product of events in Ireland as a whole, this section is
concerned as much with the South as with the North. This part also includes a
brief outline of developments in the South since partition, which have continuing
implications for politics in the North.
The second section examines the Northern Ireland state itself. It discusses
the contradictions that developed within the regime which ultimately led to the
abolition of the Stormont parliament and the imposition of Direct Rule. It focuses
in particular on the conflict between a state structure which excluded Catholics
from full citizenship, and the necessity for economic modernisation brought
about by the decline in the traditional industrial base.

THE RISE OF STORMONT

The development of English rule

Ireland became England’s first colony in 1170, but it was not until the development
of capitalism in Britain that the economic subordination of Ireland began which
transformed Irish life. For almost four-hundred years Irish life beyond the
boundaries of the English settlement, the Pale,4 went on more or less untouched.
Sporadic revolts were repressed, but Ireland was never totally subdued; the
conquerors intermarried with the natives and became absorbed into Irish society.5
As Ireland became more rebellious, the English Crown planned the suppression
of its troublesome neighbour on the pretext that it was a potential base from
which her enemies could invade.
The ‘plantations’ were aimed at replacing the Irish with English and Scottish
settlers loyal to the Crown. Beginning in 1536 under Henry VIII, they continued
for over a century. By 1685, over 80 per cent of the land had been expropriated
(Curtis 1994:1). Settlers did not, however, come forth in sufficient numbers to
displace Irish people from the land. The main colonists included city companies
which acquired huge land holdings (Beresford Ellis 1985). Their interest was in
gaining quick profits, and they were willing to allow Irish peasants to pay rent for
the privilege of tilling their land. Settlers in the South and West were never more
than a ‘thin upper crust of landlords and administrators’ which meant ‘settler-
native conflicts were also class conflicts’ (Rowthorn and Wayne 1988:18). The
difference took on a religious dimension with the Reformation in England and
Scotland. Settlers were mainly Protestant, while the native Irish remained Catholic.

13
 WOMEN DIVIDED

As England experienced the long disintegration of feudalism and transition

to commercial farming, semi-feudal relations were established in Ireland. A class
of absentee landlords was created, whose primary concern was with extracting
rent. An elaborate system of sub-letting developed: the smallest tenant-farmers
worked tiny plots to produce their own food (mainly potatoes), but had to engage
in wage labour to pay the rent. Larger tenants earned cash for rent by producing
export crops.
In 1670 approximately 20 per cent of Ireland’s annual income was extracted
in the form of rent on land (Strauss 1951). In addition, peasants paid taxes to
maintain the imperial presence, and for the established Anglican Church (ibid.:
15). The system encouraged a network of middlemen and usurers. Their
exactions frequently necessitated naked force, so the interests of these classes
were bound to British rule. Commercial activity undermined agricultural self-
sufficiency, but was parasitic on producers, whose living standards were reduced
to the barest minimum, while the system discouraged innovation and
improvement. Ireland became an ‘agricultural province of England’ (Marx and
Engels 1971), but where the interests of Irish merchants conflicted with England’s
commercial interest, Ireland’s trade was suppressed.
Following the defeat of the Catholic King James by William of Orange at the
Battle of the Boyne,6 a series of Penal Laws were enacted between 1695 and
1727. These limited Catholic rights to inheritance and the acquisition of property
and allowed confiscation of property for petty offences (Crotty 1986). Ironically,
the Penal Laws strengthened the hold of the Catholic Church: barred from
landholding and the professions, better-off Catholic men turned to commerce
and the priesthood. The number of priests increased and they became the main
authority figures, particularly in rural communities. Imposing a specifically
Catholic grievance, the Penal Laws reinforced the Church’s leadership in struggles
against English rule. This continued into the nineteenth century, when, with
agitation around Catholic emancipation, and later Home Rule, anti-colonialism
became increasingly identified with Catholicism.
The contemporary division of Ireland has its origins in this period. A different
set of relations between settler and native was established in the North East
Province of Ulster7 where religious divisions cut across class. Resistance to English
rule was strongest in Ulster, and the area was more intensively settled with
colonists to prevent future rebellions. Settlement began in 1609 and reached its
height under Cromwell in the 1640s. The majority of settlers were Scottish
Presbyterians or English Anglicans. They were true colonists, who planned to
make their lives in Ireland.
Cromwell aimed to eliminate the Irish population of Ulster, confining them
to the infertile lands of Connaught (Beresford Ellis 1985). An Act of 1652 made
resistance to expulsion liable to the death penalty. Even this was not sufficient to
drive out the Irish. Protestant settlers needed the inducement of a better standard
of living than they had left. The colonists who had acquired huge land holdings
in Ulster offered more favourable tenancy arrangements to Protestant settlers,

14
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

the Ulster Custom. Catholics, however, without other means of subsistence, had
no alternative to paying extortionate rents. It therefore suited landlords to let
land illegally to Catholics. Protestants farmed the best land, while Catholics
were confined to hillier, less fertile areas (Rumpf and Hepburn 1977:165–7).

Towards the Union

By the end of the eighteenth century Ireland was one of the most highly developed
economies in Europe. Wool and linen prospered throughout Ireland. Cotton was
centred on the North, although 20 per cent of production was in the South until
the 1820s. The most advanced development was in the North East. A variety of
factors accounted for its pre-eminence. Ulster Custom allowed some capital
accumulation in agriculture which could be transferred into industry (BICO 1975a).
Gibbon (1975) stresses the settlers’ commercial or artisan backgrounds. As tenants
they were able to supplement their income through textile production. Originally
a cottage industry, their skills were later transferred into factories. Goldring (1991)
notes that Huguenots, expelled from France in 1685, brought technical skills and
marketing experience which boosted the Belfast linen industry.
During the eighteenth century, the small mainly Protestant industrial class
formed a Nationalist Party. It won some legislative independence for the
Dublinbased Anglo-Irish Parliament, and freedom from most restrictions on
Irish industry and trade (Beresford Ellis 1985:64). This limited freedom fuelled
demands for political independence. Sections of the Protestant commercial and
professional classes, influenced by the Enlightenment and the French Revolution,
found common cause with Catholics. These were mainly Presbyterians, who
also suffered disabilities under the Penal Laws. The United Irishmen, founded by
the Protestant Wolfe Tone, attempted to unite ‘Catholic, Protestant and dissenter’
in support of Irish independence.
While the United Irishmen was at its height, another movement, embodying
quite different values, was developing within the Protestant community. The
Orange Order, founded in 1795, supported Protestant supremacy and the British
connection. It organised anti-Catholic movements among the peasantry, feeding
off long-standing animosity between settlers and native Irish, and cementing the
loyalty of Protestant tenants to the landlords. Opposition to the United Irishmen
also came from newly proletarianised Protestant linen-weavers, who sought
protection for their reduced status in the exclusion of Catholics from industrial
employment.
The United Irishmen Rising of 1798, in which 100,000 people joined (Curtis
1994:11), was ruthlessly crushed, and the Irish Parliament in Dublin was forced
to accept an Act of Union in 1800. The exclusively Protestant Parliament, like
its English counterpart, was composed of men of property, elected by men of
property. Their interests were therefore tied to the preservation of the landed
interest and British rule in Ireland. They nevertheless initially voted against the
Union, and only succumbed following threats and bribes (Curtis 1994:25).

15
 WOMEN DIVIDED

The Act of Union created legislative and economic union with Britain. Irish
MPs now sat in the British House of Commons. Tariff barriers imposed in the
late eighteenth century were abolished. The Union increased rather than crushed
nationalist sentiment, but while the United Irishmen had been led by Protestants,
nationalism became increasingly identified with Catholics. With the democratic
current in Protestantism defeated, Orangeism became politically dominant. The
social basis of Presbyterian Republicanism was undermined, precluding longterm
alliances with Irish Catholics (O’Dowd 1981:54). Religious sectarianism
increased, and in 1829 the synod of the Presbyterian Church in Ulster declared
the Pope an anti-Christ (Curtis 1994:34).
Individual Protestants continued to support the nationalist cause, and were
prominent for example in the Young Ireland movement of the nineteenth century.
Women were also active in the movement, although their involvement tended to
be in support of male relatives, rather than on their own behalf (Anton 1994:71).
The Union widened material as well as political differences between North
and South, intensifying uneven development. Protestant businesses looked
towards Britain rather than South for capital, technology and markets, and for
political and economic support. The Act of Union did not make partition
inevitable, but it was a crucial turning point in the road towards it.

The impact of Union

The North East
Industrial capitalism developed rapidly in the North East in growing isolation
from the rest of Ireland. The triumph of Orangeism provided the basis for the
transfer of sectarianism into the industrial sphere. The new Protestant proletariat
sought to redefine the ‘social contract’ which had existed between the tenantry
and the landlords, developing a privileged relationship with their new industrial
masters (O’Dowd et al 1981:7).
By 1900, two-thirds of Ireland’s exports were routed through Belfast. The city’s
supremacy in linen had been established by the beginning of the century. The
industry was based on exports, linking its fortunes to the Union, both through ties
to British mercantile capital, and dependence on imperial trade routes.
Catholics, driven off the land in the South and West, flocked into Belfast.
They settled in the West and North of the city, a pattern which has persisted
throughout this century. An official Commission of Inquiry in 1887 described
the ‘extremity to which party and religious feeling has grown in Belfast’:
The people of the artisan and labouring classes…dwell to a large extent in
separate quarters, each of which is almost entirely given over to persons of
one particular faith and the boundaries of which are sharply defined.
(cited in Chestnutt 1988:10)
Spinning and weaving continued as mainly domestic activities in the early
nineteenth century since low wages discouraged mechanisation. It was not until
16
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

the middle of the century that power looms were introduced. The Orange Order,
once under the control of the landlords, grew to nearly a quarter of a million by
1835 (Curtis 1994:36), and became crucial in maintaining sectarian divisions in
industry. Labour was recruited through Orange Lodges, giving privileged access
to employment for Protestants. Catholics were excluded from skilled work: the
Iron Moulder’s Union founded in 1826; Boilermakers 1841; and the
Amalgamated Society of Engineers 1851 all barred Catholics and organised
Orange Lodges (Goldring 1991).
Mechanisation of linen provided the basis for the development of the other
bulwarks of the Ulster economy, shipbuilding and engineering, both heavily
dependent on external capital and markets. Harland and Wolff shipyard, founded
in 1858, became the largest shipyard in the world and Northern Ireland’s biggest
private employer. Its name has also been synonymous with sectarian employment
practices.8 Goldring notes that in 1864, the Yard’s management condemned the
attempted exclusion by Protestants of Catholic workers, but condoned similar
activity later in the century, as the struggle against Home Rule necessitated a
strengthening of the alliance between workers and industrialists (Goldring
1991:64).
Wages in skilled trades were higher than in Britain, and unskilled wages
lower (Bell 1976). A Commission of Inquiry in 1912 found wages in textiles of
less than a penny an hour (Goodman 1991:14). The proportion of women in
paid work was higher than in Britain. The majority were Catholic since low
wages for unskilled men meant that women and children had to work. Girls
started work early, and continued into old age:
My grandmother worked in the mill until she was seventy-three. My mother
worked in the mill, and she went to school half-time. She worked from when
she was about twelve. You went to school and you worked the other half.
(National Union of Public Employees (NUPE) 1992:79–80)
By the end of the century, Protestants monopolised skilled labour. Although
most Protestants were actually in unskilled work, their collective self-image was
of skilled workers. Sectarianism corresponded with their daily experience. In
the textile industry, ‘the jobs of supervision and the maintenance of machinery
were held by skilled Protestant men surrounded by thousands of poorly paid
Catholic women’ (Goldring 1991:60).
Derry,9 Northern Ireland’s second city, became the centre of the clothing
industry; like textiles, it used a largely female labour force. The working lives of
women here appear to have taken a different pattern: McLaughlin (1986) argues
that the ‘female breadwinner’ is largely mythical. Most workers were young
single women. Their activities were strictly controlled, and their mothers were
required to act as guarantors. Employment of inexperienced girls did not challenge
patriarchal family relationships, which were replicated by relations within the
factory. Women were excluded from the Amalgamated Society of Tailors until
1917. They were not regarded as skilled: needlework was seen as a ‘traditional’

17
 WOMEN DIVIDED

women’s skill, and not accorded recognition in terms of wages or status

(McLaughlin 1986).
As sectarianism became entrenched in the North, it divided the economy still
further from the South. Economic ties to the Empire strengthened dependence
on the Union. The Catholic middle class in the North consisted mainly of
publicans, and professionals serving their own community: priests, doctors and
lawyers. There was no significant Catholic merchant or industrial class which
could have allied with the Protestant business class. Unionists were able to unite
all classes in the Protestant community against Home Rule.

The South
The Union acted as a spur to industrialisation in the North: in the South, industry
was submerged by competition from Britain. The underdevelopment of agriculture
intensified, culminating in the disastrous famine of the 1840s. Cotton continued
to flourish in the early part of the century, however. The Irish market was destroyed
during the Anglo-American War of 1812–14, when British manufacturers—deprived
of their American market—dumped cotton in Ireland. In 1822, recession reduced
the workforce to a tenth of its 1800 level (Strauss 1951:75).
While many nationalist historians blame the removal of tariffs for industrial
decline, others claim that tariff policy was a relatively insignificant factor (Johnson
and Kennedy 1991:15). Britain’s industrial revolution transformed technology
and allowed British firms to undercut competitors (Cullen 1972). Strauss (1951)
argues that the removal of protection nevertheless increased the vulnerability of
Ireland’s industry. The Union created a privileged market for British
manufacturers, and entrenched the subordination of the Irish economy. In Ulster,
a domestic industrial class was able to use the local state apparatus to support
industry: colonial relationships in the South made this impossible.
Many redundant urban workers were forced back into the archaic agricultural
system. Population grew at unprecedented levels, reaching eight million by 1841.
Pressure on the land brought further sub-division of plots, while the destruction
of the textile industry deprived small tenants of additional income from domestic
spinning (Johnson and Kennedy 1991:21). This had been a mainly female activity,
and its disappearance undermined women’s economic status (Rossiter 1991).

The Great Famine

The Great Famine has had a traumatic and enduring impact on Ireland. The
North, with its more advanced and diverse economy, was better able to withstand
the disaster which devastated agriculture in the South and West. Disease attacked
the potato crop, the peasantry’s main subsistence, and by 1846 millions were
starving. Though triggered by natural causes, the roots of the famine lay in the
colonial land system which ensured that much of the wealth was drained from the
land as rent, taxes and other extractions. In the 1830s, producers received only 16

18
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

per cent of the value of Irish agricultural output (Curtis 1994:32). As hunger and
disease spread, food continued to be exported to England to pay rent.
Population fell to five million by 1851, as a million people died and others,
unable to survive on their land or evicted for non-payment of rent, were forced
to emigrate. Government policy facilitated the transfer of estates to large landlords.
The restriction of poor relief to people with less than a quarter acre of land
increased concentration. The old land system was being replaced by capitalist
agriculture.
Consolidation of holdings was intensified by abolition of the Corn Laws in
1847, which opened up the British market to grain from more efficient producers.
Irish farmers switched to cattle rearing, and women’s economic role was further
weakened as men took on the less labour-intensive jobs in pasture (Rossiter
1991). Dairying, formerly a female domain, became increasingly mechanised,
and male dominated (Rossiter 1993:183). Women became more vulnerable, as
economic dependence on fathers and husbands increased.
British policy encouraged emigration on the Malthusian principle of
eliminating ‘surplus population’.10 But the social changes which the famine
precipitated, far from creating a new equilibrium population, ensured that the
haemorrhage of people became permanent. Emigration from Ireland has
continued throughout the twentieth century, and population has never approached
its pre-famine level.
The second half of the nineteenth century saw an upsurge of agitation over
land. The plight of tenants was so intimately tied to the colonial system of land
holding, that struggles over land inevitably challenged British rule itself. The
Irish Republican Brotherhood (the Fenians), formed in 1858, was militant and secular,
organising throughout Ireland and gaining some prominent Protestant supporters.
Many members were imprisoned, and it was then that women—often relatives
of imprisoned Fenians—became active. A Ladies Committee was formed in 1866
(Curtis 1994:69). Women were, however, excluded from full membership. Family
life was accepted unquestioningly as women’s sphere. As Ward put it:
In the Irish nationalist tradition, women have only become politically visible
as a group…when the moment of struggle has allowed the temporary
suspension of the cultural norms restricting women’s behaviour. Their
participation at such moments has had less the character of independent
action and more that of sponsorship by the leadership of male-dominated
movements.
(Ward 1980:96)
A broad range of groups and individuals came together in the Land League in
1879. This movement reflected tensions between radical elements like the Fenians,
and the more conservative, predominantly landlord leadership of the
parliamentary Home Rule Party (the Irish Party) which had developed following
extension of the franchise in 1867. The Irish Party needed to mobilise the
peasantry, but the leadership of landlords such as Daniel O’Connell, and later

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

Charles Stewart Parnell was always threatened by radicals like Michael Davitt,
who had founded the Land League. The involvement of the Catholic Church
helped maintain landlord authority, but also reduced its attractiveness to Ulster
Protestants. Nevertheless even in Ulster, the Parnellite Irish Party won the majority
of seats in 1884 (Curtis 1994:127).
Women were again excluded from full membership, but formed a Ladies’
Land League in 1881, to keep the work going while men were imprisoned for
activities such as resisting evictions. The women were often more radical than
the men. Following his release from prison, Parnell set about dissolving the
Ladies’ League. His sister Anna bitterly remarked that the men wanted the
women to be a ‘perpetual petticoat screen behind which they could shelter, not
from the government, but from the people’ (cited in Curtis 1994:113). Anna
Parnell left Ireland shortly afterwards and never spoke to her brother again.

Britain and Ireland in the age of imperialism

The depression of 1870 marked the end of Britain’s unchallenged domination
of the international economy. As Germany, France and the United States
developed industrially behind tariff barriers, competition for markets and raw
materials intensified. The North’s ties to the imperial economy increased, while
the South’s importance to Britain declined. Economic crisis brought a fall in the
value of exports and renewed conflict between landlords and tenants. The
landlord class in both Britain and Ireland was already weakened economically
and politically. The British industrial revolution had established the dominance
of industrial capital. The extension of the franchise in 1832, 1867 and 1884
further reduced the political power of landlords.
The Irish Land Acts of 1870 and the 1880s—which granted the ‘Three Fs’:
Fair Rent, Fixed Rent and Fixity of Tenure—reflected landlords’ declining power,
as well as successful agitation. They also removed the direct material interest of
the Anglo-Irish landed class in the Union. Many were happy to sell—amply
compensated by the British Government. By 1917 almost all land in Ireland was
owner occupied, mainly in 5–10 acre holdings (Strauss 1951:199).
This process created a class of independent small farmers which has been a
powerful bulwark of social conservatism. Transfer of title to male ‘heads of
household’, and primogeniture further marginalised rural women. Maintenance
of the land became central to Irish family life. Men were discouraged from
marrying until they inherited from their parents, often in middle age. Marriage
became an economic transaction, commonly involving a dowry. Many rural
men never married. The puritanism and authoritarianism of the Irish Catholic
Church can be traced to the post-famine social structure, when celibacy was
rigidly enforced as a means of survival.
The fall in marriages produced an army of single women who found no
satisfactory outlet either in the country or the city—where the main occupations
open to them were domestic service or shop work. Many sought a more

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 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

independent life outside Ireland. Between 1885 and 1920, 1,357,831 people
emigrated. Over half were women, of whom 89 per cent were single, most aged
under twenty-four (Rossiter 1991).
Substantial capital sums had been drained from Ireland through taxation,
which paid the full cost of administering the Union and the army. Ireland also
contributed £2 million annually towards the British Empire (Johnson and
Kennedy 1991:19). At the end of the century the Tories planned to ‘kill Home
Rule by kindness’ (Strauss 1951:201) by introducing pensions and other welfare
payments.
The material basis for the Union was undermined from two sides: rent was
declining and welfare payments increasing, while Irish supplies of agricultural
goods to Britain were less significant. The underdeveloped agricultural system no
longer served the needs of the British or Anglo-Irish ruling class. Only in Ulster
did the landed aristocracy retain political influence through the Orange Order.

From Home Rule to Republicanism

The Irish Parliamentary Party held the balance of power at Westminster for
much of the century, using the threat posed by the Land League and the Fenians
to secure concessions. The passing of the Land Acts served to demobilise the
radicals. As the economic benefits of the Union diminished, sections of the
British ruling class saw advantages in handing power to a ‘moderate’ leadership.
Gladstone’s Home Rule Bills were frustrated by a House of Lords dominated by
the landlord interest.
The Home Rule debate became increasingly dominated by the issue of tariffs.
Ireland’s industrial class, though weak outside Ulster, had grown significantly
(Beresford Ellis 1985) and was influential in the Home Rule movement. Tariffs
would strengthen their position, but were opposed by British industrialists, for
whom Ireland was still a significant market. Tariffs also threatened capitalists in
Ulster, whose interests were tied to British and Empire markets. Imperialist conquest
and rearmament had brought boom conditions in shipbuilding and engineering.
Successful resistance to Home Rule depended on mobilising other classes,
and Protestant workers had significant reasons to support the Union. The
prosperity of the North East contrasted starkly with the rest of Ireland, and their
standard of living was tied directly to the Empire. Protestant privilege could not
have survived an all-Ireland political settlement in which they would have been
greatly outnumbered: the Union was the guarantee of the ascendancy.
An all-Ireland economy could theoretically have been constructed with selective
tariffs which did not affect the North’s industry. Politically this was out of the
question, however, since Belfast’s industrial base depended on the Empire whose
interests were threatened by tariffs. The programme espoused by the Home Rule
party, and later Sinn Fein—Ourselves Alone—founded by Arthur Griffiths in 1905,
aimed essentially to develop capitalism in the South. It offered nothing to Protestant
workers. On the contrary, it threatened their relative prosperity.

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

Nationalism, socialism and feminism

There were alternative programmes to the conservatism of Arthur Griffiths’
Sinn Fein—articulated most notably by James Connolly. His vision of an
independent Ireland included a radical transformation of property relations, as
well as sexual equality. The late nineteenth century saw the rise of general unions,
which organised unskilled and semi-skilled workers. Dublin, as a commercial
and shipping centre, had a significant number of dockers and other transport
workers. The development of small-scale industry increased the labour force.
Irish general unions began as branches of British unions. The relationship was
uneasy, with the Irish branches feeling isolated from the London headquarters.
In 1909, James Larkin, Dublin organiser of the National Union of Dock
Labourers, formed the Irish Transport and General Workers’ Union (ITGWU).
In 1911, Connolly moved to Belfast as the Union’s organiser. Some successful
strikes united Protestant and Catholic workers, demonstrating that the support
of Protestant workers for their bosses was not unconditional.
By the First World War this fragile unity had shattered. The Southern working
class, though militant, was tiny and geographically concentrated. The ITGWU
sustained a serious defeat in the 1913 lock-out. Irish unions could not win without
support from British unions, but the TUC condemned the Irish workers leaving
them isolated. They were also denounced by the conservative wing of the
nationalist movement. With trade unionism powerless, Protestant workers were
more ready to respond to appeals to unite against the threat of ‘Rome Rule’.
A Home Rule Bill passed in the Commons in 1912 was opposed by Northern
Unionists led by Sir Edward Carson: 218,000 people signed a Solemn League
and Covenant, pledging to use ‘all means necessary’ to oppose Home Rule. In
1913 Carson formed an illegal army, the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF). Sectarian
attacks increased, and 2,000 Catholic workers were driven from the Belfast
shipyards. The British Government ordered its brigade at the Curragh military
camp to attack UVF headquarters. The commanding officer refused, and the
government agreed to the officers’ demand that the Army not be used against
Unionists. Lenin wrote of these events:
March 21, 1914, will be an epoch making turning point, the day when the
noble landlords of Britain smashed the British Constitution and British
law to bits and gave an excellent lesson in class struggle.
(Lenin 1969:58)
Lloyd George’s government had capitulated. A compromise was worked out
which opened up the possibility of partition. With the First World War progress
towards Home Rule was postponed. The war further cut off Northern workers
from their Southern counterparts. The upsurge in armaments and shipping
increased prosperity in the North, while political differences over the Empire
became sharper. Protestant workers, with the British labour and trade union
movement, supported the war effort.

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 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

Following the UVF threat, Larkin and Connolly formed the Irish Citizens
Army (ICA), pledged to ‘the principle of equal rights and opportunities for the
People of Ireland and to work in harmony with organised Labour towards that
end’ (Beresford Ellis 1985:208). With the Irish Volunteers11 the ICA organised
the 1916 Easter Rising. Confusion and divisions reigned over the orders to
mobilise and far fewer than planned actually took part. The Rising was swiftly
defeated, and its leaders, including Connolly, executed.
The brutality of the executions and the reprisals which followed increased
opposition to British rule, but with Connolly’s death the movement lost its most
important socialist voice. The labour leadership abstained from involvement in
the national struggle. In the 1918 election, the Labour Party withdrew its
candidates—declaring ‘unqualified adherence’ to the demand for self-determination,
and willingness to ‘sacrifice party interests in the interests of the nation in this
important crisis in the history of the nation’ (Beresford Ellis 1985:204).
The turn of the century had seen an extraordinary ferment of radical activity
in Dublin, with women taking a leading role in the nationalist movement, and,
for the first time in Ireland, making demands in their own right through the
suffrage movement. The harsh conditions in which most women worked excluded
them from political activity. Maud Gonne and Countess Markievicz, two leading
nationalist figures, were from privileged, Anglo-Irish families, as was Ann Haslam,
the Quaker founder of the Irish suffrage movement.
With the separation of the national and social questions, the demand for
suffrage came to be seen as competing with the nationalist movement (Owens
1984). Many nationalist men were either hostile to women’s demands or argued
that they were marginal to the main struggle. Connolly had been unusual in
actively supporting the movement. In 1911 a Bill to grant women the vote was
given its first reading in the House of Commons. All thirty-two Irish MPs voted
in favour. In 1912, it returned to the Commons, and fearing the loss of the
Home Rule Bill, they voted against suffrage and the bill was lost. Suffragette
militancy increased, with thirty-five convictions in 1912. The Catholic clergy
denounced the women from the pulpit.
As the national struggle dominated, women were expected to give their own
interests second place. Some nationalist women even opposed the suffrage
campaign on the grounds that they should not make demands on the imperial
Parliament. The Irish Volunteers refused to demand the inclusion of women’s
suffrage in the Home Rule Bill (Ward 1980:101). Cumman na mBan, the women’s
organisation of the Irish Volunteers, was caught in a double bind:
If nationalist women refused to work for the Volunteer movement until
they were guaranteed equal status (as the Irish Women’s Franchise League
tried to persuade them to do) they felt they would isolate themselves in
the emerging new nation…if they sacrificed their own interests and worked
hard for independence, some saw clearly that this renunciation would
defeat whatever chance women stood of being accepted as partners.
(Ward 1980:102)
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 WOMEN DIVIDED

The war destroyed the already strained relations between suffrage organisations.
Many suffrage campaigners in Ireland had tried to remain neutral on other
political issues. They were, however, forced to confront the crucial question:
was their campaign for a vote for an Irish or a British Government? While
many leading figures in the suffrage and nationalist movements in the South
were Protestant (Owens 1984) suffrage groups in the North tended to be aligned
with the Women’s Political and Social Union (WPSU)12 which forged links
with the Unionists and opposed Home Rule. The Irish Women’s Franchise
League (IWFL), which supported Irish independence, was unable to establish
branches in the North (Ward 1993:37).
With the outbreak of war, the splits became more open. Some groups, together
with British suffragettes of the WPSU, abandoned militancy in favour of war
relief work, while the IWFL continued to campaign. Ireland also caused a split
in the WPSU, with Sylvia Pankhurst expelled for speaking in support of Dublin
strikers in 1913 (Owens 1984:87).
The marginalisation of the ‘social question’ and the ‘women’s question’ from
the national struggle prevented an effective challenge to the conservative
leadership of Sinn Fein. This profoundly affected the construction of the two
states in Ireland after partition.

Partition
At the general election in 1918, Sinn Fein, which now united most nationalist
groups, won 73 of the 105 Irish seats. Sinn Fein put forward only two women
candidates, one of whom, Constance Markievicz, won her seat and became the
first woman elected to the Westminster Parliament.
Sinn Fein MPs meeting in Dublin issued a Proclamation declaring an Irish
Republic. This was a radical document, which included a commitment to
universal suffrage. Written by Thomas Johnson, the Labour leader, it did not
have unanimous backing from Sinn Fein (Rumpf and Hepburn 1977) and there
were no moves to implement it.
The Republic was recognised by both the Irish TUC and the Labour Party,
but the British Government refused to accept it. They sent in troops and irregulars
(the Black and Tans)13 to quell resistance, and a bitter guerrilla war ensued
between crown forces and the Volunteers (now the Irish Republican Army (IRA)).
In the North, pogroms were launched against Catholics (Farrell 1980).
The War of Independence ended in stalemate. No side—Republicans,
Unionists, or the British Government—could win outright victory. Partition, the
first choice of none of the protagonists, marked a recognition of the divisions in
Ireland. It allowed the Unionists to strengthen their hold in the North East,
while Britain maintained significant economic and political powers over the whole
island. The six North Eastern counties became ‘Northern Ireland’, and remained
part of the United Kingdom. The other twenty-six counties became the ‘Irish
Free State’, with dominion status. The principle on which the border was drawn

24
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

was to include within Northern Ireland the largest area over which Unionist
rule could be secure. Three Ulster counties went to the Free State. Lord
Cushendon, a leading Unionist politician, lamented:
To separate themselves from fellow loyalists in Monaghan, Cavan and
Donegal was hateful to every delegate from the other six counties…but
the inextricable index of statistics demonstrated that although Unionists
were in a majority when geographical Ulster was considered as a unit, yet
the distribution of population made it certain that a separate parliament
for the whole province would have a precarious existence.
(cited in Bell 1980:7)
On the other hand, had Northern Ireland encompassed only areas where
Protestants were a significant majority—Belfast and its hinterland—it would have
been economically unviable. A third of the population of the new state were
Catholics, concentrated in the West and in parts of Belfast.
Republicans were bitterly divided. The group led by Michael Collins, who
negotiated the treaty that ended the war, was prepared to compromise in the
hope that partition would be temporary. The treaty established a Boundary
Commission which was expected to cede sufficient territory to the South to
make Northern Ireland unworkable. The settlement was supported by business
and Church leaders, and welcomed by many in a war-weary population as at
least offering stability. It was ratified by the Dail in 1922 by sixty-four votes to
fifty-seven (Curtis 1994:376).
For many Republicans the treaty represented a betrayal; for the left and the
labour movement the division of the working class was disastrous; and for women
it further entrenched the divisions that had appeared in the suffrage campaign.
Civil War raged for ten months. Republicans were defeated by a combination of
British, Free State and Unionist forces. Threatening renewed war, Lloyd George
forced the Free State Government to accept the existing state boundaries and
the Boundary Commission was abolished in 1925.

The new states at Partition

The Twenty-Six Counties
The new Irish Free State was remarkably conservative for a nation emerging
from a protracted and bloody struggle for independence (MacDonagh 1977).
Far from taking radical steps to separate the economy from England, let alone
carry out the spirit of the Proclamation, the economic policies adopted by the
Free State Government were a model of British Treasury caution. Social
conservatism was embedded in the institutions of colonial rule which the new
regime inherited, and in the central role of the Catholic Church.
Few believed the new state would survive in its existing boundaries, but in
waging civil war the pro-treatyites were forced to defend the new regime, including

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

the boundaries on which its power rested. The border was given further legitimacy
when the leader of the anti-treaty forces, Eamonn de Valera, led his new Party,
Fianna Fail, into the Dail. De Valera became Taoiseach (Prime Minister) in 1932.
He in turn took action to repress the minority of Republicans who continued a
sporadic armed struggle.
Commitment to a united Ireland was enshrined in the 1937 Constitution,
when de Valera declared the state a Republic. No major political party, however,
has had a ‘credible strategy for achieving this aim’ (Rowthorn and Wayne
1988:26). Politicians were obliged to construct a nation state within the Twenty-
Six Counties, forging a national identity which separated it further from the Six
Counties. The new Irish nationhood was based on a narrow, inward-looking
nostalgia for Gaelic tradition, with the Catholic Church inseparably linked to
Irishness. It took on many state functions, running the majority of schools, and
many hospitals (Phadraig 1986). In many ways, each state was a mirror image
of the other, and ‘Irish women paid the price of a partitioned Ireland, where two
mutually antagonistic states adopted ideologies which were religiously orthodox
and patriarchal’(Rossiter 1991:232).
Catholic idealisation of both motherhood and virginity was reconciled by
rigorously policing extra-marital deviance (O’Dowd 1987). Misogyny received
its fullest expression in Article 41 of the 1937 Constitution, which defined the
role of mothers as ‘properly belonging to the home’. Commenting on the
constitutional amendment outlawing abortion, the current President Mary
Robinson suggested:
A state which equates the right to life of the mother and the unborn child
sets defined limits on the role of women in that society.
(Robinson 1993:100)
With the collapse of the suffrage movement, women lost their independent voice.
The abstention of the anti-treatyite faction meant that none of the six women
elected to the Dail in 1919 took their seats or participated in the construction of
the Free State (Gardiner 1993:49). Although they won the vote, women’s
involvement in political and social life diminished after partition. Even in areas
such as education and health—traditionally regarded as within women’s sphere—
the Church’s intervention marginalised women.
The economy was extremely weak. Most advanced industry was in the Six
Counties; one-third of the Irish market and taxable capacity was lost, with one-
fifth of the population. The Free State was highly dependent on Britain as a
market for agricultural exports, and for manufactured imports. Much of industry
was British-owned while British banks dominated the financial sector. The Irish
punt was tied to the pound sterling, giving little control over monetary policy.
The border necessitated the development of a state institutional structure and
separate Twenty-Six County fiscal and monetary policy—further reducing
economic links with the North. Both economies remained outward orientated,
at the expense of intra-Ireland trade.

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 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

State initiatives did little to challenge backwardness in the first thirty years.
Economic policy was inhibited by dependence on Britain and fear of retaliation
(Lee 1989). Protection brought limited industrial development, mainly in low-
technology consumer goods. Agriculture, based on small proprietors, remained
the mainstay of the economy. The rural base reinforced conservatism in economic
and social policies.
Although the border disappeared as a serious political issue, the major parties
(Fianna Fail and Fine Gael) have their origins in opposing sides in the civil war.
Fianna Fail remains the largest party, losing power only when other parties have
formed coalitions, as with the Fine Gael-Labour coalition elected in 1994. Fianna
Fail constructed hegemony on ‘an alliance of petit-bourgeois economic nationalism
and popular social reform, creating an image of Ireland as “classless”’ (Hazelkorn
1986:334).
Clientist politics have prevented an effective challenge from socialist or social
democratic politics. Trade unionism is strong, but the Labour Party has achieved
office only as a junior coalition partner. The party’s abstention in the crucial all-
Ireland election in 1918 marginalised its influence at the foundation of the state,
and it has never recovered sufficiently to represent an independent voice.
The regime came into crisis in the 1950s. As most of Europe experienced post-
war boom, the inability of the Irish economy to sustain adequate living standards
for its people was reflected in mass unemployment and emigration. Fianna Fail’s
hegemonic position allowed it to initiate policy changes which reversed part of the
traditional canon of nationalism (Butler 1992). Economic strategy was now built
on attracting multinational capital through lavish grants and subsidies.
The new policy was essentially one of ‘dependent industrialisation’ (Wickham
1986), with Ireland taking a subordinate place in the world division of labour.
Industrial growth was relatively successful until the early 1980s, when the limits
of reliance on cheap labour and resources emerged more sharply with competition
from other newly industrialising countries. Unemployment increased, and tax
concessions and grants to foreign enterprises brought mounting debt, paid by
increasing taxes on working people. State policy shifted towards a more directed
industrial strategy aimed at skill-intensive sectors, but the basic structural problems
remain: a fragile industrial structure built on external indebtedness, with growing
income inequalities (Jacobson 1994).
Ireland’s industrial development has weakened the specific ties to the British
economy. The monetary link was broken in 1979. Ireland joined the European
Economic Community,14 and has embraced integration more enthusiastically
than Britain. Britain remains, however, Ireland’s dominant trading partner.
Industrialisation brought other modernising influences. Social mobility reduced
the prevalence of the three-generation family. Women, particularly in urban
areas, entered paid work. Young women were brought into the labour force in
rural areas where multinationals established branch plants (Harris 1989). Ireland
became less insular as communications expanded.
Social change has been slow, reluctant and uneven. Ireland retains one of the

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

strongest male-breadwinner models in Europe (Kofman and Sales 1996). Welfare

provision was extended against Church opposition—for whom proposals for a
‘Mother and Child’ payment (Child Benefit) struck at the roots of Christian
family responsibility (Browne 1986). Ireland has the lowest percentage of
economically active women in the age group twenty-five to forty-nine years,
with less than 30 per cent of mothers in employment (Pillinger 1992). Childcare
facilities are scarce and women are expected to care for elderly relatives.
The traditional role, embodied in the constitution, of Irish women as home
makers has, however, been significantly undermined. Much of the impetus for
legislative change has come from the European Union (McLaughlin 1993). It
was the European Commission which triggered a change to the laws outlawing
homosexuality, but Ireland went further than required and passed legislation
barring discrimination against homosexuals in employment. In a recent
comparative study of political freedom, Ireland was ranked above Britain—at
twelfth and twentieth in the world respectively (McGarry and O’Leary 1995:451).
Campaigns for women’s rights have been developing since the 1970s, and
the election of Mary Robinson, a committed feminist, to the Presidency in 1990
marked a significant change in attitudes towards women. A major area of feminist
campaigning has been family and sexual politics (Smyth 1993). A ban on the
import of contraceptives was lifted following a well-publicised campaign which
demonstrated how absurd and unworkable the prohibition had become. Abortion
remains illegal, and contraception difficult to obtain in rural areas. Fertility has
nevertheless fallen dramatically, reflecting a reduced adherence to the Church’s
teaching: in the 1970s, population grew at more than four times the EEC average,
but in 1989, in common with all EU countries, it was below replacement level
(Gardiner 1993:70).
The Catholic Church, however, retains immense power. No significant political
party is overtly anti-clerical. Commins (1986) explains this as the inheritance of
colonialism, when the Church was seen as mediating on behalf of an under-
privileged people. Anti-Catholicism is still often seen as anti-Irishness, particularly
from non-Catholics.
Relations between Church and state were thrown into crisis in 1992 when
the Attorney General attempted to prevent a fourteen-year-old girl from travelling
to England for an abortion after she had been raped. This threatened the
Maastricht Treaty, since it restricted the right of pregnant women to travel within
Europe. A referendum in the early 1980s had made abortion unconstitutional
under any circumstances. This episode forced the major parties to distance
themselves somewhat from the Catholic Church, by proposing a new
Constitutional amendment which represented a compromise on the abortion
issue.15 All major political parties supported the 1995 campaign to legalise divorce,
which won a narrow victory in the teeth of Catholic opposition. Allegiance to
the Church was also shaken by a series of scandals involving sexual abuse by
priests, one of which led to the fall of the Fianna Fail Government in 1994.
Recent developments suggest for some that Ireland is experiencing ‘a long

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 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

delayed realignment towards a politics based on class, as has traditionally been

the case elsewhere in modern Europe’.16 Leaving aside the question of how far
this is an adequate representation of politics in ‘modern Europe’, this prognosis
is over-simplified. Ireland’s social, economic and political development remains
profoundly shaped by the colonial past and the continuing conflict north of the
border (Coulter 1992; Munck 1993). Irish governments have espoused the project
of European integration, yet Ireland remains on the fringes economically and
socially as well as geographically. The only ex-colony in a union of developed
industrialised states, the economy’s underdevelopment continues to be reflected
in net emigration which drains it of much of its most productive and creative
population.
Ireland retains a ‘double marginality’ (Meaney 1993:243). On the one hand,
it shares a history and experience with post-colonial states, which separates it
from other European states. On the other hand, its membership of the European
Union makes it an ally of the former colonial power, Britain. The EU is becoming
increasingly exclusive towards non-Europeans with the development of the so-
called ‘Fortress Europe’ (Kofman and Sales 1992) cutting Ireland off from other
ex-colonies.
This ambivalence is reflected most acutely in attitudes towards the continuing
conflict in the North of the country. While feminists are increasingly debating
the impact of colonialism in Ireland, and its gendered ideology (see e.g. Innes
1994; Sharkey 1993) the feminist movement has found it difficult to engage
with the issues confronting women in the North. Most campaigns have attempted
to avoid taking up positions on issues surrounding the conflict, and it is only in
the 1990s that links have started to develop with women’s groups there. The
ceasefires in 1994 opened up the possibilities for developing new agendas for
Irish women, but the limited response from Southern feminists demonstrated
the deep separation between women North and South.

The Six Counties

The Northern Ireland state was created in a bitter war, which became increasingly
violent after partition. Hundreds were killed—mainly Catholics; thousands lost
their homes, intensifying already deep religious segregation; others lost their
jobs through intimidation. Sectarian violence became institutionalised, as
responsibility for security passed to the Royal Ulster Constabulary and the Special
Constabulary (B Specials)—an almost 100 per cent Protestant force. At partition,
one in five Protestant men carried arms in a section of the security forces (Farrell
1980). Draconian ‘Emergency Powers’ were enacted, later made permanent in
the Special Powers Act.
The treaty settlement gave Northern Ireland a locally elected administration
based at Stormont. Stormont became responsible for domestic matters such as
education, health, housing, and law and order; the British Government retained
responsibility for trade, defence and foreign policy. Although subordinate to

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Britain, Stormont had substantial autonomy in spending, and Unionists took

full advantage of the local state apparatus to secure control over the Six Counties
(Rumpf and Hepburn 1977).
Protestants outnumbered Catholics, but the majority was concentrated in the
East. Catholics were a majority in two Western counties; in two others the Protestant
majority was precarious. In Belfast, Catholics formed a substantial minority,
concentrated in the West of the city. In Ireland as a whole, Protestants were a
minority of about a fifth. This demography produced chronic insecurity in
Protestants. Unionist leaders played on the twin fears: that Protestants would be
swallowed up in the ‘Catholic South’, subject to ‘Rome Rule’; and that they would
lose their majority in Northern Ireland (be ‘outbred’). Catholics, most of whom
had supported Irish independence, were seen as ‘disloyal’. In 1934, Prime Minister
Brooke announced in Stormont that ‘Catholics are out to destroy Ulster with all
their might and power’ (Rumpf and Hepburn 1977:180). Unionists dealt with
‘disloyalty’ by marginalising Catholics politically, economically and socially.
The Protestant majority was reinforced by gerrymandering17 of local boundaries,
and restrictions on the franchise. The most famous gerrymander was Derry City
Council, whose boundaries were drawn so that a Protestant minority could elect
a Unionist majority on the council (Farrell 1980:85). The first elections were held
under proportional representation (PR), giving nationalists control of a sizeable
minority of councils. Abolition of PR meant that the Unionist/Nationalist divide
remained the overriding issue in elections, and Northern Ireland was effectively a
one-party state. Unionists had even more control over the twelve Westminster
seats. Until 1970, they always held at least nine. They played little part in parliament,
but on economic and social questions tended to align themselves with the right of
the Conservative Party. Unionist politicians came almost entirely from the landed,
industrial and professional classes.
Nationalists could not outvote Unionists on their own, and the Protestant
class alliance prevented any substantial challenge to Unionism. Catholics tended
to abstain from public life in the early days, believing that the state would be
unviable. When they did stand for election, the opposition—various nationalist
parties, plus an occasional Labour member—was marginalised at Stormont, and
there were frequent nationalist boycotts.

A Protestant state
All I boast is that we have a Protestant parliament and a Protestant state.
(quoted in Farrell 1980:92)
This notorious statement by Lord Craigavon, Northern Ireland’s first Prime
Minister, was made to Stormont in 1934. Unionist control of Stormont and
local government became a self-perpetuating mechanism for marginalising
Catholics. With the local government franchise based on a housing qualification
until the late 1960s, council control of building and allocation of public housing

30
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

was crucial to retaining power. Unionist members of Omagh rural council wrote
to the Unionist whip at Stormont:
We would point out that in certain districts cottages are required by Unionist
workers but we hesitate to invite representations as we know there would
be a flood of representations from the Nationalist side and our political
opponents are only waiting the opportunity to use this means to outvote
us in divisions where majorities are close.
(quoted in Farrell 1980:88)
Discrimination in employment was the third leg on which Unionist control rested.
In 1951, Catholics held 11.9 per cent of non-manual posts in local government.
This percentage was not evenly spread, since Catholics were overrepresented
where they had local control. Stormont politicians encouraged discrimination in
private employment. Rowthorn and Wayne (1988:34) summarise the ‘mechanics
of discrimination’ in the private sector: the location of employment was often
difficult or dangerous for Catholics; Catholics seeking certain types of
employment were unlikely to be hired; Catholics didn’t bother to apply to firms
known to discriminate; trade unions sometimes acted as hiring agents and barred
Catholics; there was often no public recruitment, with hiring through family or
the Orange Lodge.
The dual labour market created in the nineteenth century was further
institutionalised. Catholics were confined to a narrower range of occupations
than Protestants, and unemployment was consistently higher. Catholic emigrants
outnumbered Protestants. This helped maintain political stability—both by cutting
the official rate of unemployment, and preventing the natural increase in the
Catholic population from feeding into the electorate and threatening Unionist
control. The proportion of Catholics remained roughly the same (34 per cent)
throughout the Stormont years, but over 40 per cent of those under fifteen years
of age were Catholic, falling to 30 per cent for people of working age (Census of
Population).
Education became a major source of conflict. The Catholic Church was
determined to maintain control over its own schools, while Unionist-controlled
local education boards insisted that compulsory religious instruction in county
(local authority-run) schools was Protestant. County schools became effectively
Protestant, and Catholics opted out of the state system, 98 per cent attending
Church schools (Murray 1983). Catholic schools were poorly funded, and this
was reflected in inadequate equipment, worse teacher—pupil ratios, and lower
academic attainment.
A series of Protestant privileges stemmed directly from Unionist control of
the state apparatus. Protestant separateness was reinforced by the Orange Hall,
the Church, schools, drinking clubs, and sports teams (Donnan and McFarlane
1983; 1986). The Orange Order was central to the unity of the Unionist Party,
and the majority of its MPs were members. It also bound employers to employees,
through ties of community, and directly through labour recruitment.

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

Church, state and family

As in the South, the Church was crucial in legitimating the regime. Protestant
Churches, unlike the Catholic Church, are not monolithic, but their influence
has been as profound in shaping the state. They are conservative, particularly in
relation to the family and sexuality, and their influence has been important in
cementing sectarianism, and maintaining patriarchal dominance.
The churches, Catholic and Protestant alike, are male, the difference being
that Ian Paisley has a devoted wife who keeps his home-fire burning,
whereas the Catholic bishop has servants devoted to his well-being.
(Goldring 1991:73)
The religious divide strengthened the hold of the Churches over their
congregations. They have provided a focus for community activity, and played
a powerful role in education, and in the provision of social services. Church and
state have combined to ensure that the prime role for women is home makers
and mothers (McWilliams 1993:79).
In 1926, 36 per cent of women over twelve were in paid employment, but
only 15 per cent of married women. Textiles, clothing and domestic service
together accounted for 61 per cent of female employment. The only profession
employing substantial numbers of women was teaching, which on both sides of
the border was 69 per cent female (O’Dowd 1987:22), but a marriage bar confined
women to the lower rungs. A similar obstacle in the civil service restricted
women’s advancement, and ensured that their influence in shaping public policy
was minimal (ibid.: 26).18 Women were virtually absent from mainstream politics.
Only three women have been elected to Westminster to represent Northern
Ireland seats. In its fifty-two year existence, nine women were elected to the
Stormont Parliament.19
The ideal of the ‘family wage’ (i.e. that the wage of the male ‘head of household’
should be sufficient to maintain himself, his wife and dependent children)
prevailed, but only among Protestants could this approach reality. Catholic male
unemployment meant that Catholic married women were twice as likely to work
as Protestants, and they predominated in the least attractive forms of work.

THE FALL OF STORMONT

Unionism united all classes in the Protestant community in defence of ‘their’
state. No attempt was made to woo the support of the other third of the population.
Until the civil rights movement of the late 1960s forced Northern Ireland to the
attention of the world, British Governments of all parties were content to leave
Stormont to run its own affairs. A profound indifference and ignorance prevailed
as long as stability was maintained.
Major crises occurred in the early 1930s, the 1950s, and finally the late 1960s.
In the earlier periods, a political challenge came from sections of the Protestant

32
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

working class, as their living standards were threatened by economic problems.

The economy recovered from the depression of the 1930s as demand for industrial
goods expanded due to the Second World War, but this temporary reprieve
could not solve the fundamental economic difficulties. In the 1950s, the
exhaustion of the old economic base led to more far-reaching changes.
Multinational capital brought new forms of employment, but sectarian working
practices were incorporated into the new environment.
In the late 1960s, when Catholics mounted a serious and sustained challenge
to the state through the civil rights movement and later armed struggle, tensions
within the Stormont administration finally became unmanageable. The regime
could not meet the movement’s demands—essentially for full citizenship for
Catholics—without undermining the alliance on which its own power rested.
While sections of the official trade union movement gave limited support to
civil rights, the Protestant working class as a whole did not support reform.
Instead the movement provoked the first serious electoral challenge to the official
Unionist Party from within the Protestant community, from Ian Paisley’s rabidly
anti-Catholic Democratic Unionist Party.
The Catholic revolt forced the British Government to intervene and attempt
to dismantle some of the more undesirable features of the state. It was unprepared
for the implications of these reforms which toppled the Unionist regime and
forced Britain to take direct responsibility for defending the Union.

The early years

As Unionists struggled to establish their state, they inherited an economy already
facing serious problems. The Six Counties were highly industrialised, but industry
was narrowly based, and incapable of adjusting to changing economic
circumstances. Part of the problem lay with the state boundaries. The Six Counties
was an artificial unit, created for particular political reasons. On the landward
side was a straggling frontier which ‘owed more to religion than to economic
geography’ (Lyons 1971:706) and cut off Derry, Northern Ireland’s second city,
from its hinterland. To the east was the sea which divided Northern Ireland
from the British ‘mainland’ and its markets and raw materials.
Industry was concentrated around Belfast, where the majority of employment
was in shipbuilding, engineering and textiles. Even before 1914 these industries
had revealed serious deficiencies (Johnson and Kennedy 1991). Industry was
export orientated, a tendency reinforced by the small domestic market, but
Northern Ireland’s location imposed extra transport costs both for finished goods
and imported inputs. Lyons describes textiles and engineering as complementary,
since one employed mainly women, while the latter was overwhelmingly male.
But as Goldring points out,

unfortunately the picture of Janet going to the linen mill and John to the
shipyard is inaccurate because generally speaking, the wives and daughters

33
 WOMEN DIVIDED

of skilled Protestant workers were not in paid work…. In fact, John went
off to work in the yard and Maureen to the mill. They never met and so
never married.
(Goldring 1991:35)
Textiles were a major source of employment for women, particularly in Belfast.
In the 1930s women worked from 8.00 am to 6.00 pm with only twenty minutes
for lunch, for a wage of between five and six shillings a week.20 Conditions were
harsh:
There weren’t any health or safety regulations. Most of the women who
worked in the mill had very bad feet because they stood in water all the
time. They had leg ailments because of the time they had to spend standing.
And they had very bad chests because of the pouce [dust from the thread]
that was in the air.
(NUPE 1992:81)
Northern Ireland’s industry was particularly vulnerable to the catastrophic decline
in international trade of the 1930s. The shipping market crashed, and employment
fell from 20,000 in 1924 to 2,000 in 1933. Linen suffered competition from
cotton, and later from artificial fibres: by 1938, 50 per cent of the workforce was
unemployed. Service employment grew, but could not compensate for the collapse
of industry. Officially recorded unemployment was above 27 per cent in 1932,
and was above 20 per cent throughout the decade (Lyons 1971:710).
Even these figures are probably an underestimate (Farrell 1980:122), particularly
for women’s unemployment. Married women were, as in Britain, ineligible for
benefit, and their unemployment was never considered as serious as that of men
(McLaughlin 1986). Benefits were substantially lower than in Britain, and
conditional on ‘task work’ on an Outdoor Relief Scheme. The effect on Protestants
was traumatic. Not only did they lose work they felt was theirs by right; they, with
Catholics, had to face humiliating interrogation by Poor Law Guardians. Welfare
provision had been designed to exclude ‘foreigners’—Catholics. Protestants were
made to feel foreigners in their own state (Goldring 1991).
Unemployment led to mass agitation. The Outdoor Relief Workers Committee
organised a strike in 1932 to demand improved conditions for unemployed
workers, which was accompanied by a wave of mass meetings, marches and
riots. After ten days, the strikers won nearly all their demands, but the unity of
Protestant and Catholic, so vital to the success of the struggle, did not develop
into a more fundamental challenge to the government. In the general election
three months later, sectarian loyalties were firmly in place. Over the following
few years, sectarian rioting erupted, destroying hopes that lasting unity had
been achieved. Elections centred around the national question. Trade union
struggle, however militant, did not necessarily challenge Protestant loyalty on
this issue. In a study based on the recollections of participants, Rolston and
Munck argued that the extent of class unity had been exaggerated, and that the

34
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

ODR strike represented ‘not a break with a historical pattern, but a disruption
of a relatively autonomous sectarian politics’ (Rolston and Munck 1987:7–8).
There was no major state strategy to tackle the causes of unemployment
following the ODR strike. The militancy of Protestant workers increased fears
among Unionist politicians of interfering with the economic basis of the class
alliance. Limited attempts were made to attract new industry, but the impact on
employment was minimal (Lyons 1973:711). Unemployment remained at 28.3
per cent in 1938. Only when war brought increased demand for military supplies
did the economy start to recover. Unemployment fell slowly, remaining at 5 per
cent until 1943 when the British level had fallen to 0.5 per cent.
At the outbreak of war, personal income per head in Northern Ireland was
55 per cent of the UK average (Simpson 1983:81). Poverty was felt in shorter
lives: the death rate was the highest in the UK. Infant mortality at partition had
been below the UK average, but by the 1950s was 33 per cent above it. Children
of the unemployed were two to three inches shorter than middle-class children,
graphic evidence of malnutrition (Lyons 1971:712).

The impact of war

The Unionists were reluctant to impose conscription, because of opposition
from nationalists. Thousands from both communities nevertheless enlisted in
the British Army. Lyons argues that the connection with the UK was greatly
strengthened by this sacrifice, which did ‘more to perpetuate the partition of
Ireland than a whole generation of Twelfth of July demonstrations’ (Lyons
1971:730). Following the war, the Government of Ireland Act of 1949
strengthened the constitutional position of Northern Ireland:
Northern Ireland remains part of His Majesty’s dominions and of the
United Kingdom and it is hereby affirmed that in no event will Northern
Ireland or any part thereof cease to be a part of His Majesty’s dominions
of the United Kingdom, without the consent of the parliament of Northern
Ireland.
(quoted in Lyons 1973:738)
Given the built-in Unionist majority at Stormont, consent was extremely unlikely.
A civil service memorandum written at the time suggests that these guarantees
owed as much to strategic interest as to gratitude for loyalty:
So far as it can be foreseen, it will never be to Great Britain’s advantage
that Northern Ireland should form a territory outside his Majesty’s
jurisdiction. Indeed, it would seem unlikely that Great Britain would ever
be able to agree to this even if the people of Northern Ireland desired it.
(quoted in Bew and Patterson 1985:9, my emphasis)
Economic relations between Britain and Northern Ireland changed substantially
after the war, with public spending now based on parity of service provision.

35
 WOMEN DIVIDED

With the development of the welfare state, this principle became decisive in
raising living standards in Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland did not become a
welfare state in a political sense. British welfare provisions were the product of
the land-slide Labour victory and the social democratic consensus which lasted
until the 1970s. No such consensus was built in Northern Ireland, and Unionist
politicians opposed the legislation establishing the health service.
The welfare state offered a potential political threat to Unionism, since it
demonstrated strikingly the effectiveness of working-class politics. Unionists were,
however, able to present it as a benefit arising from the Union, and through
their control over the administration of health and education, they used the
increased resources it gave them to reinforce sectarianism. There was no ‘one
nation’ rhetoric. As Labour introduced universal suffrage for local elections in
Britain in 1946, Unionists restricted the franchise. Commitment to full
employment was never meant to include Catholics, let alone women.
The welfare state was built on the assumption of women’s dependence on
the ‘family wage’, but low wages and discrimination meant this could not be a
reality for many families, disproportionately Catholics. Income distribution
remained more unequal than in Britain. The male-female wage differential, which
narrowed in Britain during the war, remained constant in Northern Ireland
(Isles and Cuthbert 1957:227).
Despite its increased financial commitment, the British Government took no
more interest in how the money was spent. Bi-partisanship kept Ireland out of
British politics, leaving Unionists to run Northern Ireland in the traditional way.
Politics remained polarised around community loyalties, preventing the
emergence of social democratic politics, and the high level of trade union
organisation (200,000 members by 1960) was not reflected in working-class
influence on policy making. Brookeborough, Prime Minister for twenty years to
1963, refused to recognise the trade unions’ affiliated body, the Northern
Committee of the Irish Congress of Trade Unions (ICTU).
The ‘Catholic/Protestant “apartheid”’ in welfare provision (O’Dowd 1981:16)
was institutionalised in the welfare state. Catholics continued to attend
denominational schools which were now funded more generously (a decision
which cost the minister responsible his job). Health and social services were
organised so that each community largely serviced its own needs. Services were
generally limited to the statutory minimum: Northern Ireland had the worst
childcare and facilities for the elderly in the UK. The Churches therefore remained
major providers of welfare and retained their influence as organisers of cultural
and community life. The public debates on sexual morality which shook the
British establishment in the 1960s went largely unnoticed in Northern Ireland.
The liberalising reforms on homosexuality and abortion were not enacted.21
The development of welfare and more interventionist economic policy brought,
nevertheless, a fundamental change in the relationship of both communities to
the state. Before the war, Catholics’ main contact with the state had been with
the repressive forces, or as recipients of the dole. Now for the first time they

36
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

benefited significantly from state welfare services and employment. An educated

middle class developed, who became increasingly impatient with their second-
class status and demanded a share in political life.

Economic decline
By the 1950s the economy was again showing signs of deep-rooted problems.
Agricultural employment fell sharply, but the downward lurch of traditional
industries was most serious. In 1952, four industries (shipbuilding, engineering,
textiles and clothing) employed 44 per cent of male, and 88 per cent of female
manufacturing employees (Isles and Cuthbert 1957:65). These sectors
experienced intense competition from newly industrialising counties. Extra costs
due to Northern Ireland’s peripheral location were compounded by increasing
wages. State policy remained tied to preserving traditional industry rather than
developing new and more efficient sectors.
Employment at Harland and Wolff was down to a third of its 1950 level by
the 1970s. Textiles declined precipitately and linen production fell by over 60
per cent between 1960 and 1979 (Kennedy et al. 1988:108). While Britain
experienced almost full male employment throughout the 1950s, male
unemployment in Northern Ireland never fell below 6.2 per cent between 1946
and 1957, or female below 2.4 per cent (Isles and Cuthbert 1957). Post-war
unemployment did not approach its 1930s level, but was higher relative to Britain.

Table 2.1 Unemployment as a proportion of the

civilian labour force (multiple of UK
average)

Source: Simpson 1983:82

Unemployment would have been even higher had not emigration reduced
the potential labour force. Catholics, less able to find employment, were more
likely to emigrate (Rowthorn and Wayne 1988:208–9).
As unemployment mounted, an electoral threat to the Unionist Party forced
a change of strategy. The Northern Ireland Labour Party (NILP) won four
seats at Stormont in 1958, and again in 1962. The party had committed itself to
the Union in 1949. It was therefore mainly Protestant, and much of its support
came from the shipyards. This challenge precipitated a shift in the balance of

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

Table 2.2 Net emigration rates from Northern Ireland (per thousand)

Source: Adapted from Simpson 1983:102

power in the Unionist Party. In 1963, Terence O’Neill succeeded Brookeborough

as Prime Minister, pledged to a programme of economic modernisation.

O’Neill’s modernisation
The new strategy, embodied in the Wilson Plan of 1964, involved replacing
employment in declining sectors with investment in new industry. Expenditure
of £450 million was committed to improve infrastructure, including the
development of new towns, and to provide grants and subsidies to attract
investment (Farrell 1980:229). This policy was relatively successful in the 1960s.
The increase in manufacturing output was 60 per cent—higher than in Britain
(Rowthorn and Wayne 1988:72). Northern Ireland became a major producer of
artificial fibres, which partially replaced traditional textile industries. Only six
foreign firms had opened between 1945 and 1959: thirty were established in the
next ten years (league 1987:162).
Employment growth was less satisfactory. Expansion of services stemmed
the rise in unemployment, but new manufacturing employment could not replace
that lost in declining industries. The industrial base remained narrow, with more
than 80 per cent of manufacturing employment in four major sectors in 1971.
The percentage of employees in manufacturing fell by 8.6 per cent between
1952 and 1971, and rose in sendees by 11.2 per cent (O’Dowd 1981:32). The
structure of the labour market was also changing: male employment fell, while
female employment increased by 40 per cent between 1959 and 1979, much of
it part time (Trewsdale 1987).22 These changes also had a religious dimension,
as Protestant women took up part-time service employment while full-time, mainly
Catholic, female employment in manufacturing declined. While traditional
industry also shed its skilled Protestant male labour, sectarian privilege was
reconstructed in new forms. Protestant males moved into administrative and
supervisory work in the private and public sectors (Gibbon 1975).
The new industrial strategy was tied to the sectarian character of the state,
but this involved a shift in power within the Protestant establishment. Although
the emphasis was on attracting new capital, shipbuilding and engineering
continued to be heavily subsidised. Local authorities, another major focus of
clientism, lost power through the centralisation necessitated by a more
interventionist strategy. Regional policy brought a layer of administrators to

38
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

Stormont, whose self-image was of technocratic modernisers. The new policy

was replete with the rhetoric of ‘objective’ planning, ‘while its implementation
sought to marry the new rhetoric with the practice of reproducing Unionist
hegemony’ (O’Dowd 1981:39). Deploring the impact of the security situation
on economic growth, another government report commented:
Nevertheless we take comfort from the fact that economic and industrial
issues are much less a matter of political controversy and dissension in NI
than in most other parts of the western world.
(Quigley Report, quoted in ibid.: 60)
The absence of political controversy over economic issues reflects the dominance
of politics by sectarianism. This meant that the principles of the policies were
not challenged so much as their differential impact on the two communities.
Controversy centred on the location of new industry and the sites of the eight
new ‘growth centres’. Rowthorn and Wayne argue that deliberate discrimination
was only part of the story, and that the government ‘played an essentially passive
role, supplying finance and support services as and where required by private
firms’ (1988:76). This in itself, they suggest, was enough to ensure that most
private investment went to Protestant areas.
Many decisions, nevertheless, appeared blatantly sectarian. Two new towns
were developed in the strongly Protestant areas of Antrim—Ballymena and
Lurgan-Portadown (provocatively renamed Craigavon). The new University of
Ulster was sited at the small Protestant town of Coleraine rather than the
predominantly Catholic city of Derry, which was not even designated a growth
centre. The process built up the East at the expense of the West, consolidating
the ‘dual economy’ (Quigley Report 1976:41). While the East expanded, Belfast
itself declined. Catholic West Belfast was hardest hit, with unemployment
spectacularly high. Industry moved out to the suburbs around Belfast which
housed mainly Protestants. Their skills and experience, acquired in traditional
industries, ensured that they took most of the new jobs.
The ‘dual economy’ was not merely geographical but religious.
Unemployment was highest in areas where the Catholic proportion of the
population was greatest. These regions experienced outward migration, while
there was inward migration to the Protestant areas, particularly Down and Antrim
to which people moved from Belfast (see Table 2.3). Catholic unemployment
exceeded Protestant in each of the twenty-six District Council areas, and the
differential in Belfast was particularly marked (Northern Ireland Census 1971).
Some commentators argued that the influx of multinational capital would
reduce the job gap between Protestants and Catholics, since multinationals are
agents of modernisation with no interest in archaic sectarian structures (Boserup
1972; Bell 1976; Probert 1978). Farrell for example contrasts ‘traditional industries,
where discrimination and Protestant privilege were well-entrenched’ with ‘new
firms which didn’t discriminate or which employed a lot of mainly Catholic
semi-skilled or female labour’ (Farrell 1980:229–30).

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

Table 2.3 Religion and economic change, 1961–7 1, by county

Source: Rowthorn and Wayne 1988:75

This view of the modernising and progressive impact of multinational capital

proved overoptimistic. Multinationals did not transform sectarian structures,
but operated within them. Even if they did not consciously discriminate, structural
conditions ensured that they reproduced sectarian employment practices.
Protestant workers had the necessary skills and experience, and industry was
already concentrated in Protestant areas, so the ‘requirements of capital’ were
‘easily reconciled with existing sectarian geography and domination’ (O’Dowd
1981:41). It was not in the interests of employers to provoke problems with
their workforce by challenging existing patterns of recruitment. Multinational
companies, nevertheless, operate within different constraints from domestic
capital, which influence their relation to sectarianism, and their ability to change
in the face of concerted pressure. Some American-based companies were able to
respond more quickly to the MacBride campaign against discrimination in the
1980s, by developing equal opportunities policies within their Northern Irish
subsidiaries.

The birth of the civil rights movement

O’Neill presided over a rapid expansion of inward investment and industrial
growth. He established a Ministry for Development in 1965. Another significant
move was the recognition of the ICTU in 1964. He encouraged trade union
participation in the Advisory Economic Council (later the Northern Ireland
Economic Council—NIEC) and the official trade union movement has been
deeply involved in the quangos23 which have proliferated as Northern Ireland’s
problems have deepened.
The British Government showed remarkable willingness to accept O’Neill’s
‘modernisation’ rhetoric as British-style social democratic reformism. O’Neill was
not a bigot, but his policy of ‘integrating Catholics, however gradually, into the
Stormont state’ (Lee 1989:411) was largely confined to symbolic gestures—such

40
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

as visiting Catholic schools where he was ‘photographed chatting with priests and
reverend mothers’ (Farrell 1980:240). Even this enraged Unionists, and O’Neill’s
statement on his resignation did not help to calm feelings on either side:
The basic fear of Protestants in Northern Ireland is that they will be outbred
by Roman Catholics…. It is frightfully hard to explain to a Protestant that
if you give Roman Catholics a good house they will live like Protestants
…they will refuse to have eighteen children, but if the Roman Catholic is
jobless and lives in a most ghastly hovel, he will rear eighteen children on
national assistance.
(quoted in Lee 1989:426)
O’Neill was neither able nor willing to let Catholics become more ‘like Protestants’
in the vital matter of civil rights. O’Neill took over a party beginning to fracture
on class lines. In his first years of office the NILP lost seats to the Unionists as
O’Neill implemented much of the NILP’s own programme and brought economic
expansion. Recovery was temporary, but it outlived his rule. It was the challenge
of the civil rights movement which broke up his party and swept him from office.
The civil rights movement, which erupted onto the streets in mass protests in
the late 1960s, was a response to the continued exclusion of Catholics from civil
and social rights. The movement drew inspiration from the wave of protests
sweeping Europe and the civil rights movement of the American South. The
welfare state and economic modernisation had created a new urban educated
professional Catholic middle class. They provided the leadership of the new
Catholic political parties, which came together as the Social and Democratic
Labour Party (SDLP) in 1970, replacing the old nationalist parties. This group
had anticipated that modernisation would give them a greater role, but found
themselves excluded by the lack of political reform. Catholic University students—
their numbers increased by the welfare state reforms—played a decisive role in
the movement.
Harold Wilson’s new Labour government gave uncritical support to O’Neill’s
modernising project. In its belief in O’Neill’s ability to carry out reforms the
government failed to comprehend the nature and persistence of sectarianism.
They saw it as irrational prejudice, rather than embedded in the structures of
Northern Ireland society. Wilson wrote in 1965:
I was anxious that the Ulster Unionist government under Captain O’Neill
should be encouraged to press on with their programme of ending
discrimination in housing allocations and jobs and generally improving
the lot of the minority of Northern Ireland. Since coming into office he
had by Northern Ireland standards, carried through a remarkable
programme of easement.
(quoted in Bew and Patterson 1985:11)
The first campaign of the civil rights movement began in 1964 when the
Campaign for Social Justice started organising against discrimination in housing.

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

The Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association (NICRA), formed in 1967, later
became the umbrella organisation for the wider movement. The main planks of
its programme were one man one vote;24 an end to gerrymandering of electoral
boundaries; fair distribution of council housing; repeal of the Special Powers
Act; disbanding of the B Specials; and a complaints procedure against local
authorities. The movement, including more radical groupings such as People’s
Democracy, looked to change within Northern Ireland—rather than to the
traditional Republican aspiration of a united Ireland. The violence with which
the state responded to its demands led many to reject the possibilities of
transforming Northern Ireland.
Protests were often initiated by local people in response to immediate problems.
One case which gained notoriety was in Tyrone, where the Unionist council
allocated a new house to a young single Protestant woman, secretary to the local
Unionist candidate, while Catholic families remained in desperately overcrowded
conditions. Several families squatted in local authority housing in protest at this
decision. The contribution of these people—mainly women—has often been
ignored in the histories of the period.25 Margaret Ward, who was active in the
campaign, recalls that though People’s Democracy had many women members,
with the exception of Bernadette Devlin MP,26 they were not prominent. One
participant recalls how in 1970
‘[women] were still unquestioningly accepting the fact that when we under-
took a token overnight squat of a house in protest against housing policies,
it was the women who would go and shop for food and make the endless
sandwiches and ensure that all those who came to make speeches that
evening would be fed. I think I missed most of the political talk because I
was so busy buttering bread.’
(quoted in Ward 1988:129)
The civil rights movement was not unique among radical movements in confining
women’s role to providing support for male activists. The absence of an
independent voice for women, however, meant that, as the struggle escalated,
women’s interests were once again subordinated to community loyalties.

From civil rights to civil war

The civil rights campaign became a mass movement in 1967 with a series of
major demonstrations. A march in Derry on 5 October brought a brutal state
response. Marching in Northern Ireland is crucial to maintaining community
boundaries. In Derry, the triumphalist parade of the City Walls by Orange
Apprentice Boys is part of a continuing annual ritual celebrating the defence of
the Protestant settlement. No non-Unionist parade had ever taken place within
Derry’s walls at the time. The march was banned, but this only served to increase
support for it. The violence meted out by the paramilitary RUC was watched
on television around the world, and many people in Britain for the first time

42
 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

came face to face with this regime which—though they knew little about it—was
part of their own state.
As the movement gathered pace, so too did Unionist reaction. O’Neill’s alleged
‘softness’ on Catholics lost him support inside his government and in the wider
Protestant community. The extreme right began to organise: the Ulster Volunteer
Force (UVF) was resurrected and carried out a number of sectarian murders. In
the 1950s, Ian Paisley had helped establish Ulster Protestant Action to ‘keep
Protestants and loyal workers in employment in times of depression’ (Farrell
1980:233). Renaming his party the more innocuous-sounding Democratic
Unionist Party, Paisley moved into mainstream Unionist politics in the 1960s.
He has been elected both to Westminster and the European Parliament, and
remains one of the major figures in Northern Ireland politics, outlasting several
leaders of the official Unionist Party.
In November 1968, O’Neill announced a package of reforms, but these did
not meet the demands of the civil rights movement. Radicals, led by People’s
Democracy, planned to march from Belfast to Derry on New Year’s Day, 1969.
The march, though not banned, was harassed throughout its route. At Burntollet
Bridge the marchers were ambushed by a loyalist mob which included many
offduty B Specials (Farrell 1980:251).
O’Neill finally accepted the principle of universal suffrage, but his position
within the Unionist Party was so weakened that he was forced to resign. Civil
disorder was widespread. The new Prime Minister, Chichester Clark, continued
O’Neill’s policy of promising reform coupled with repression of Catholics. A
new crisis came with that year’s Apprentice Boys parade in Derry. A Bogside
Defence Committee was formed to protect Catholic areas from attack, and the
invaders were forced out. The ‘Battle of the Bogside’ brought British troops
onto the streets. Home Secretary James Callaghan explained:
Anthony Peacocke, the Inspector-General, feared that the police would be
unable to contain the Bogside for much longer and that if troops were not
made available the police would be compelled to retreat from their position
in front of the barricades to Victoria Police Station. They feared that the
centre of the city would then be invaded by a riotous mob…. An hour
later …the Inspector-General was…formally asking for the assistance of
troops, and that was the message I received in the air.
(Callaghan 1973:43)
The troops were initially welcomed by many Catholics who saw them as
protecting their communities from Protestant para-militaries, but the
honeymoon soon turned sour. The promised reforms were too limited and
too late, and the army was increasingly used to repress the Catholic revolt.
Universal suffrage in local elections was introduced, and housing was taken
from local authority control, but nothing was done about employment
discrimination. More importantly, Unionists were left in charge of the repressive
apparatus. The B Specials were disbanded, but former Specials were allowed

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

to join the new Ulster Defence Regiment, which has remained overwhelmingly
Protestant.
Such momentum for reform as the British Government had mustered in the
heady days of 1969 quickly ebbed away as the prospects of a ‘quick fix’ receded.
In 1970 Callaghan told the House of Commons that Catholics had exhausted
the sympathies of the government with their ‘concentration on the imagined
and real grievances’ (Bew and Patterson 1985:23). The policy of containing the
revolt and gradual reform came to be seen by the Catholic community as aimed
mainly at defending the Unionist regime. The IRA, practically defunct at the
start of the civil rights movement since an abortive and unpopular campaign in
the 1950s, rearmed and reorganised.
With the Conservative victory later that year, repression was stepped up.
Internment was introduced in August 1971. It was ineffective in security terms,
netting hundreds of innocent people, and few active IRA members. It was a
propaganda disaster. The British Government was accused in the European
court of torturing internees. The Court found there had been only ‘ill treatment’,
on the curious grounds that brutality was ‘an inhuman or savage form of cruelty
and that cruelty implies a disposition to inflict suffering, coupled with indifference to
or pleasure in the victim’s pain’ (BSSRS 1974:31, my emphasis). Britain’s reputation
was damaged internationally, and virtually the entire Catholic community was
alienated. The SDLP opposition withdrew from Stormont. Civil resistance
increased, as rate and rent strikes involved whole communities.
In January 1972, on what has become known as ‘Bloody Sunday’, fourteen
unarmed civilians were shot dead by soldiers of the Parachute Regiment during
a civil rights march in Derry Although the government convened an inquiry to
explain away the circumstances, the pressure unleashed was too great. Stormont
was ‘prorogued’ for a year in March and never reconvened. Direct Rule from
Westminster, expected to be a temporary measure while a solution was put
together, has continued for over twenty years.

CONCLUSION
The demands of Catholics for equal rights within Northern Ireland proved
irreconcilable with the Unionist regime. While the civil rights movement claimed
only the most basic democratic rights, these demands inevitably raised the
question of power within a state whose very basis lay in sectarianism. Civil
rights activists had hoped to unite Protestant and Catholic workers in support of
democratisation, but within the confines of Northern Ireland, these demands
were seen as a threat to the material well-being of Protestants, striking at the
heart of the Protestant state from which they derived their sense of identity. The
movement therefore remained a predominantly Catholic campaign, while the
ties of Protestants to Unionist politics, with some individual exceptions, became
stronger as their position came under threat.
Although the demand for civil rights challenged the basis of the Unionist

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 THE RIS E AND FALL OF STORMONT

state, the movement did not question the central role of the Catholic Church
in the community, nor the role of women within the Catholic family. As the
hopes of peaceful reform faded, and the two communities became increasingly
polarised, the focus of community loyalty remained around a religious identity,
which also perpetuated the counterposition of demands for rights for Catholics
to rights for

45
 3

EXPLAINING THE CONFLICT

INTRODUCTION
Northern Ireland is often portrayed, especially to British audiences, as a backward
place left behind by the tide of history, in which warring tribes are engaged in an
atavistic religious feud which the modern world has outgrown. The conflict is
represented as violent, criminal, and above all, irrational. In Northern Ireland
itself, not surprisingly, things are seen very differently. Few people regard the
conflict as primarily religious. The perceived causes of the Troubles arise ‘less
from the peculiarities of the local cultures than from perceived, and rationally
perceived, constitutional and political insecurity in both communities’ (McGarry
and O’Leary 1995:244).
Religion is the boundary marker for these political divisions, which have
become the central divide in Northern Ireland society. While there are a minority
of Catholic Unionists and Protestant Republicans, Catholics can overwhelmingly
be identified with some form of nationalist politics, and Protestants with unionist
politics. These broad groupings include a range of opinions, from left to right;
constitutional to militant and paramilitary; feminist to socially conservative; as
well as ‘Catholic atheists’ and ‘Protestant atheists’. Catholic and Protestant
feminists may appear to have more in common with each other than with many
of their coreligionists, but in what is defined as ‘politics’ in Northern Ireland
they are divided. It is unlikely that they would vote for the same political party
or support a common political solution.
The first part of this chapter discusses the major explanations for the conflict.
I have grouped these into three broad positions. Firstly, Unionists, whose political
priority is the maintenance of the Union, and who blame nationalist refusal to
accept the status of Northern Ireland for ‘the Troubles’. A second group—which
includes both liberals and some left-wing opinion—urges reforming Northern
Ireland through legislative change and economic regeneration. The third,
nationalist, group claims that Northern Ireland within its present borders is
inherently undemocratic and unreformable. Encompassing views from
conservative nationalism to Marxist anti-imperialism, this group sees the long-
term solution to the conflict in a united Ireland.

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 EXPLAINING THE CONFLICT

Twenty-five years of conflict, and the economic and social developments which
have accompanied it, have led some to a reassessment of old certainties. Both
republicans and unionists have had to face the possibility that they cannot win,
or regain, their preferred constitutional solution outright. Republicans have
acknowledged that a united Ireland cannot be won immediately through ‘armed
struggle’, but middle-class Catholics have gained greater economic and social
status in Northern Ireland, partly as a result of that struggle, and have become
more assertive in demanding recognition of their nationalist aspirations. Unionists
have seen the decline of traditional Protestant industry and employment, and
the disappearance of their institutional power base at Stormont. Many have
come to believe that they will not see a return to the old-style majority rule
Stormont, and that some form of power-sharing will be essential to any internal
Northern Ireland settlement.
Most of the explanations discussed in the first section have been silent on the
question of gender and women’s position in relation to national identity and
community politics. The second part of this chapter discusses the sectarian divide
in terms of ethnicity, arguing that gender has been central in the construction
and maintenance of sectarian (or ethnic) divisions. It explores the different
gendered ideologies of the two communities and their implications for women’s
response to the conflict.

UNIONISM
The fundamental tenet of Unionism is the desire to maintain the constitutional
link with Britain. It may also encompass a number of other dimensions: cultural
(linked to notions of ‘British identity’); religious (the preservation of the Protestant
religion and the Protestant settlement in the Union); supremacist (epitomised in
the slogan ‘we are the people’); or ‘progressive’ (emphasising economic ties and
links to the British labour and trade union movement).
Some on the Marxist left have identified themselves with Unionism, most
notably those associated with the now defunct British and Irish Communist
organisation (BICO). The insecurities produced by the ‘Irish dimension’ of the
Anglo-Irish Agreement, and the Downing Street Declaration1 have led some
Unionists to develop a more sophisticated defence of the Union, based on notions
of civic unionism and equal citizenship. The parties associated with the Protestant
paramilitaries are now linking British identity with social democratic values,
and sometimes with women’s rights.
There are differences in the way in which Catholics are viewed from these
varying positions. Old-style Unionism sees them as the ‘enemy within’ who
must accept second-class status. More modern variants see them as potentially
equal citizens within a multi-cultural British state. The latter recognise the
individual rights of Catholics, but not collective national rights, although their
starting point is the collective right of Protestants to their own state.

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

The enemy within

In its most explicitly anti-Catholic version, responsibility for the conflict lies
with ‘Catholic nationalism’. The Irish Republic’s claim to Irish unity in Articles
2 and 3 of the constitution is seen as provocative, and a constant encouragement
to disloyalty on the part of Northern Irish Catholics. While past discrimination
may be denied, it is simultaneously justified on the grounds that Catholics would
not accept the legitimacy of the state.
Some brands of Unionism are based on ‘a sense of racial superiority’ (Lee
1988:3). Ian Paisley, leader of the Democratic Unionist Party, for example,
often uses images of Catholic corruption. Following a meeting with nationalists,
he is reported to have reassured his supporters that he had taken care not to
‘sit with these people or sup with them and nor did he enter their habitation’
(O’Connor 1993:177). Employment inequalities are justified by ‘cultural
differences’ or failings in the Catholic community. Catholics are viewed as
‘spongers’ with no interest in working for a living (Rolston and Tomlinson
1988:56), who nevertheless feel free to criticise the state while accepting ‘welfare
benefits all too eagerly, benefits they could not hope to receive across the
border’ (Howe 1990:38). Professor Thomas Wilson, author of a major official
economic report, claimed that:
as for business life, Presbyterians and Jews are probably endowed with
more business acumen than Irish Catholics…. They were made to feel
inferior, and to make matters worse they often were inferior, if only in those
personal qualities that make for success in competitive economic life.
(cited in Lee 1989:418, emphasis in original)
As Lee points out, Wilson did not feel obliged to produce any evidence in
support of this assumption of Catholic inferiority or to examine the connection
between this assumed Catholic inferiority and discrimination: ‘The rigour of
the reasoning would scarcely pass muster with Wilson on any other subject’
(Lee 1989:419).
Another version of this argument is that Catholics have less incentive to
work as a result of larger families, since benefits can exceed the likely earnings
from wages. The faster growth of the Catholic population is also said to account
for the gap between jobs and available labour supply in the Catholic community.
This idea suggests that there are ‘Catholic jobs’ and ‘Protestant jobs’ (Howe
1990). Compton, one of the main proponents of the population thesis,
concludes:
While some unfairness in job allocation may exist, it is structural imbalances
generated by factors specific to the Roman Catholic community, such as
higher rate of population growth, lower social status, larger families, and a
divergence between geographical distribution and the location of jobs,
that account for a considerable part of the disparity.
(Compton 1981:140)

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 EXPLAINING THE CONFLICT

This argument is related to Protestant fears that they will be ‘outbred’ by

Catholics, and lose control over the state. Osborne, a leading authority on religious
differentials, shows that Catholic disadvantage had appeared before birth rates
began to differ substantially. Birth rates are again converging, while the
unemployment differential remains. Compton’s thesis takes no account of labour
market processes, where practices include ‘exclusion, segregation and unfair
hiring practices’ (Osborne 1987:279). Surveys of attitudes to work do not suggest
any religious difference in the desire for stable employment (Kremer and Curry
1986).
Compton suggests that the concentration of Catholics in areas west of the
Bann, where unemployment is high, helps explain the unemployment differential.
Trewsdale (1983) explains the higher unemployment of Catholic women on
these grounds. Official figures, however, show that Catholic unemployment
exceeds Protestant in every district in Northern Ireland. Furthermore, the location
of employment is not accidental, but is affected by the sectarian character of the
state.
Referring to the relatively lower educational attainment (or ‘human capital’)
of Catholics, Osborne points out that CHS data suggests Catholics are more
likely to be unemployed irrespective of their level of qualification (1987:280).
Although state funding has recently become more equal, Catholic schools have
in the past had to find a larger share of resources from their own community
Catholic girls’ schools have provided fewer opportunities in science, while in
general the two communities display different profiles in examination subjects,
with Catholics more likely to concentrate on arts subjects (Trewsdale 1983;
Osborne 1985).
The view of Catholics as ‘the enemy within’ has been seen in its most deadly
form in loyalist paramilitary activity. Their violence has been essentially reactive,
tied to fears of loss of territory and status. Violence has been directed at Catholics:
although it is usually claimed that their victims are Republicans, the logic of
their thinking tends to make all Catholics ‘enemies of the state’ and therefore
‘legitimate’ targets.
The Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) began its campaign of violence in response
to the civil rights movement, and fears were fuelled with the abolition of Stormont
and subsequent ‘betrayals’ by the leaders of Unionism—the ‘fur coat brigade’.
Loyalist paramilitaries, which also include the Ulster Defence Association
(UDA),2 draw their support largely from inner-city ghettos. Insecurities have
been bred not merely by the Troubles, but by urban redevelopment which has
decimated their communities. The population of the Protestant Shankill area of
West Belfast, for example, has fallen by over two-thirds in twenty years.
Relations with the security forces are contradictory. Loyalist violence is not
aimed at the institutions of the state, but at those whom they see as enemies.
Members of the security forces have been implicated in loyalist operations, but
the violence has also brought loyalists into conflict with the security forces, and
many have been imprisoned for paramilitary activity.

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

Civic Unionism
A new Civic Unionism, drawing on ideas of citizenship rights, has been articulated
by Foster (1995) and Aughey (1995). Aughey rejects the view that there is any
contradiction between Unionists’ loyalty to Britain and the frequent, sometimes
violent, confrontation between Unionists and the British Government. Loyalty,
he claims, is to the Union settlement, not to individual governments. Civic
Unionists deny any colonial basis to the relationship between Britain and Ireland,
and therefore any history of domination and subordination. They counterpose
a progressive multi-cultural version of citizenship which they claim is offered by
the United Kingdom to the backward-looking, ethnically exclusive citizenship
of Irish nationalism:
I am a unionist out of comradeship and affinity, not out of triumphalism,
sectarianism, separatism or anti-Irishness.
(Foster 1995:64)
Civic Unionism is based on an abstract and idealised version of Unionism not
easily recognisable either in its history or in current politics. Unionism has not
been renowned for espousing liberal or progressive values. Historically, it has
been more associated with conservatism on social and economic, as well as
constitutional, questions. Unionist control over Northern Ireland was based on
the systematic exclusion of Catholics from citizenship rights.
The counterposition of a reactionary, confessional Irish Free State to a modern
multi-cultural Britain presents a one-sided view of both states. The Catholic
Church in the Republic has unquestionably been a powerful conservative force,
but it is not, as in the United Kingdom, an established Church. Although the
Protestant population has declined in the South, Protestants are still
disproportionately prominent in civic and economic life. The first President of
the Republic was a Protestant. In Britain, the head of state must also be the head
of the Church of England, and may not marry a Catholic. The anti-racist and
multiculturalist policies which developed in Britain in response to post-war
immigration were always premised on the need for immigration control. These
policies are threatened by official xenophobia and restrictive immigration policies
which increasingly link access to citizenship to ethnicity (Kofman and Sales
1992). The South, where feminist campaigns have won a series of progressive
social measures, can no longer be characterised as socially backward, particularly
in relation to the North. Sarah, a researcher on a project on women’s needs in
Protestant areas, put it succintly:
‘It is nonsense to say that issues like abortion are holding back Protestants
in relation to the South. Protestant fundamentalism is very strong and in
many ways the South is now more liberal and dynamic.’3

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 EXPLAINING THE CONFLICT

Progressive Unionism
The political parties of the loyalist paramilitaries—the Progressive Unionist Party
(PUP) which ‘has links’ with the UVF; and the Ulster Democratic Party (UDP),
linked to the Ulster Defence Association—have embraced non-sectarianism,
together with a social democratic programme including support for women’s
rights. The PUP, the more radical of the two, has recruited a number of women
whose feminist politics was seen as a positive contribution.4
Progressive Unionism grew out of the increasing inequalities within the
Protestant population, which have been exacerbated by Conservative policies of
deregulation and spending cuts. Traditional Unionist politicians are viewed with
distrust. As Billy Hutchinson, a leading member of the PUP, put it:
‘We were always told we had a Protestant state for a Protestant people, but
working-class people were treated like pawns by the politicians.’5
For Hutchinson, it is the welfare state and affinity to the politics of the British
Labour Party which defines his British identity.6 Speaking to a largely Catholic
trade union audience, he claimed that many people in the (Protestant) Shankill
see themselves as the same as Falls (i.e. Catholic) people in socioeconomic terms,
but ‘recognise that they are diametrically opposed politically’ (Derry Trades
Council 1994:7). Here ‘politics’ is defined as the constitutional issue. On this,
however far Progressive Unionists are able to find common cause with working-
class nationalists, differences remain irreconcilable.
Progressive Unionists see the ‘subvention’—the difference between the taxes
collected in Northern Ireland and public spending—as essential to maintaining
living standards in Northern Ireland. The subvention increased substantially
under the Direct Rule administration (see Chapter 4). Graham Gudgin, a British
economist who heads the Northern Ireland Economic Research Centre, sees
this as the crucial reason for support for the Union. He estimated the subvention
in 1993–94 as £2,000 per capita (Gudgin 1995:83), and claims that, since there
are only two southern taxpayers for every one in the North, compared to forty
UK taxpayers (ibid.: 84), living standards in the North could not be maintained
within a united Ireland.
The subvention is clearly a major contributor to current living standards,
although the benefits are unevenly spread, and poverty remains higher than in
Britain. The substantial rise in public sector employment has brought high
incomes to the middle classes of both communities. Many have benefited
economically from the conflict, with security forces accounting for over a third
of Protestant male public sector employment in 1994 (FEC 1995). The issue of
finance is crucial to any potential settlement. The economic situation would not,
however, remain the same in the event of a peaceful solution, since the costs of
conflict, both direct and indirect, would be reduced. The possibilities of wider
social and economic transformations may be opened up within an all-Ireland
setting (see e.g. Munck 1993; Teague 1993).

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

‘Orange Marxism’
Some within the Marxist tradition have argued that unionism is a progressive
force in Ireland. Those associated with the now defunct British and Irish
Communist Organisation (BICO), and its successors, have been the most prolific
and active supporters of this position, which has also been argued in somewhat
different ways by Nairn (1981), Boserup (1972) and others. BICO’s most
important thinker was Bill Warren, whose work has had wider resonance in its
defence of imperialism against the arguments of the dependency school of
underdevelopment (Warren 1980). Claiming a return to orthodox Marxism,
Warren argued that imperialism plays a historically progressive role as the ‘pioneer
of capitalism’ which is necessary to create the preconditions for socialism.
Warren argued that colonialism in Ireland was progressive, criticising the
‘false view that Northern or Southern Ireland is the victim of neo-colonialism’
(BICO 1975a). The British state ‘carried out the bourgeois democratic revolution
in Ireland’, while nationalism is associated with backward and reactionary forces,
above all with the Catholic Church. In The Two Irish Nations (BICO 1975b) he
argued that there is a distinct Protestant nation with democratic reasons to resist
incorporation into the rest of Ireland. Protestant settlers in Ulster ‘cohered into
a social unit’ from the seventeenth century, which being Protestant, individualist
and bourgeois, was ‘in the vanguard of bourgeois civilisation’. These
characteristics, and the more advanced system of land holding (Ulster Custom)
brought about the development of capitalist relations in the North, separating it
from the backward South.
The real national question in Ireland, in this view, is the defence of the Protestant
nation. The only denial of democratic rights in Northern Ireland which the group
recognise is the right to participate fully in British political life. The marginalisation
of Catholics, and the apparatus of discrimination and repression is a rational
response to the threat from ‘Catholic nationalists’. In the words of Bew et al.
(1979) the state becomes the ‘expression of the real or imagined fears’ of the
Protestant community. With its often virulent anti-Catholicism the arguments of
this group are often indistinguishable from those of conservative unionists.
BICO has disbanded, but its members continue to campaign against
nationalism, arguing for the total integration of Northern Ireland within the
United Kingdom. Its ideas have been influential within sections of the British
Labour Party, who have espoused the demand for the party to organise within
Northern Ireland.

REFORMING NORTHERN IRELAND

Commentators from a range of positions see change in Northern Ireland as
both possible and desirable. Problems of discrimination and injustice may be
recognised, but these are seen as resolvable within the confines of Northern
Ireland. Liberals seek change through education and programmes to promote

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 EXPLAINING THE CONFLICT

reconciliation between the two communities, and through legislative reform to

promote equality of opportunity. Those on the left stress the need for economic
policies to alleviate poverty and deprivation, and argue for working-class unity
to transcend sectarian divisions. While they may take an avowedly neutral stance
on constitutional issues, by seeking the solution to the conflict within Northern
Ireland, they are implicitly pro-Unionist.

Liberalism
In Great Britain we have a pluralist, multicultural society which on the
whole copes tolerantly with tensions. Similarly in Northern Ireland, we
hope to promote…mutual respect for the different cultures that flourish
here.
(English 1994:101)
In the sentence quoted above, Patrick Mayhew, Northern Ireland Secretary,
articulated the liberal multi-culturalism which has been officially promoted in
the 1990s, through the Community Relations Council (CRC) and its Cultural
Traditions Group. This policy is based on the notion that, as Maurna Crozier of
the CRC put it, with better education ‘people will choose more tolerant ways of
accommodating difference than murdering each other’ (quoted in English
1994:100). Community groups have become a major focus for this work. The
number of these organisations rose dramatically during the 1980s, and they
have become increasingly dependent on state funding, which is now often tied
to a ‘cross-community’ element to the group’s activities.
The emphasis on parity of esteem for ‘the two traditions’ presents a static and
ahistorical view of the two communities—one which can imply that anything
claimed as ‘traditional’ is worthy of respect. As one critic put it, ‘communities
are encouraged to be inward-looking and to construct narrow and exclusive
parameters of community identity’ (Burgess, quoted in Hall 1994:18). Traditional
values in both communities have been hostile to women’s autonomy, and many
feminists have seen their major task being to combat these ideologies and practices.
Celebration of traditional values can also be divisive. The two ‘traditions’ in
Northern Ireland are not merely cultural, they represent relations of power and
domination. Orange parades, for example, are anathema to nationalists, since
they celebrate the triumph of Protestantism, and are usually accompanied by
sectarian abuse and violence.
While state promotion of cross-community work is relatively recent, voluntary
groups have been working for peace and reconciliation throughout the Troubles,
often with little official support or recognition. One of the most long-established
and successful groupings is the integrated schools movement, which works to
foster understanding through breaking down the segregation of Catholic and
Protestant children in the school system. The group has initiated the establishment
of a number of non-denominational schools (see Chapter 5).

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

The best known of the peace groups, the Peace People, was founded in 1976
following the death of three young children when a car went out of control. Its
driver, an IRA member, had been shot dead during a gun battle with soldiers.
In the immediate aftermath of the tragedy, the group won mass support for its
calls for an end to violence, but enthusiasm was already beginning to wane in
Northern Ireland as its founders, Betty Williams and Mairead Corrigan, received
the Nobel Peace Prize. The group found it impossible to sustain a reputation for
neutrality, and lost support in nationalist areas when its leaders refused to
condemn state violence with the same vigour as it denounced Republican
violence. The work of Peace People and other similar organisations continues,
but its profile has been much lower since the 1970s.
Women’s groups have generally been the most successful in developing cross-
community activities, and women have been able to work together in campaigns
which challenge ‘traditional values’. The unity women have been able to build
around ‘women’s issues’ has, however, often been maintained by avoiding rather
than confronting the issues which divide them.

Discrimination
Mainstream academic social scientists in Northern Ireland have generally attempted
to distance themselves from the conflict, claiming a political neutrality by refraining
from discussing specifically Northern Ireland issues. This has been particularly
true for economists, who have avoided discussion of employment discrimination
and the dual labour market, treating Northern Ireland as if it were any other
regional economy of the United Kingdom.7 Other academics have, however,
acknowledged the problem of discrimination and inequality, and a considerable
body of research has been generated into the structures of the labour market and
the implications for equal opportunities policies (see e.g. Cormack, Gallagher and
Osborne 1993; Davies et al. 1995; Gallagher, Osborne and Cormack 1994).
Equal opportunities policy is based on a broadly liberal framework, in which
discrimination is seen as an individual problem, stemming from ignorance and
adherence to out-moded forms of behaviour. This thinking forms the basis of
the Fair Employment legislation discussed in more detail in Chapter 4.
Discrimination in employment, housing and other areas under Unionist rule
was widespread and is well documented.8 Official policy since Direct Rule has
curbed the more overt practices, and some commentators now claim that
discrimination is a thing of the past. The absence of systematic research into
sectarian practices makes it difficult to estimate the extent of discrimination
which remains. The Standing Advisory Commission on Human Rights
(SACHR), in a statistical analysis of possible explanations for the unemployment
differential, concluded that religion was a major explanatory factor (SACHR
1987:35). Only a minority of instances of discrimination will become the subject
of legal action, but a substantial number of cases have now been dealt with
under fair employment legislation (Rubinstein 1990). The annual report of the

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 EXPLAINING THE CONFLICT

Fair Employment Commission for 1994–95 listed fourteen cases heard by the
Fair Employment Tribunal during the period; of these eight were upheld, with a
total of £87,294.70 paid in compensation. A further fifty-seven cases were settled
through negotiation, resulting in compensation of £579,640. In another 276
cases proceedings were continuing (FEC 1995:41–2).
While these proceedings have brought substantial remedies in some cases,
legislation based on creating equality within the formal market contract is
inadequate to the task of structural inequality. Sectarianism is so entrenched
that continuing inequality is not dependent on individual acts of discrimination.

Red Marxism
‘Red Marxists’ (Morgan 1980) reject the preoccupations of unionists and
nationalists with constitutional issues, aspiring to a unity between workers within
Northern Ireland which transcends community loyalties. The solution to the
conflict in this view lies in socialist politics and the common struggle against
capitalist exploitation. The most influential and sophisticated of the ‘red Marxists’
have been Bew, Patterson and Gibbon, who have made significant contributions
to the understanding of class divisions in the Protestant community, and the
nature of the Orange state. Following Balibar, they view the primary role of the
capitalist state as to ‘hinder the unity of the dominated classes’ (Bew and Patterson
1985) in order to reproduce the conditions for continued exploitation of the
working class. In Northern Ireland this is achieved by integrating Protestant
workers into an all-class alliance, which excludes Catholics. This both prevents
Protestants from pursuing their independent class interests, and divides the
working class. The central conflict thus appears between two grand class
alliances—Nationalist and Unionist.
Bew and Patterson (1985) claim that the Stormont regime was unreformable.
Their argument, however, rests on the separation of the specifically Unionist
(Stormont) state from the geographical entity of Northern Ireland (Bew et al.
1980). They believe it is possible to build alternative democratic structures within
the present boundaries of the state, and to break down these class alliances by
independent working-class action. In 1985 Bew and Patterson called for the
British state, under a Labour Government, to initiate structural reforms in
Northern Ireland, combined with a programme of economic recovery, and a
phasing out of the RUC.
Bew and his coauthors have shown a growing willingness to recognise
progressive elements within the Protestant community, while denying them in
the nationalist community. They viewed the ‘expanded symbolic recognition
within Northern Ireland of the nationalist identity’ contained in the Anglo-Irish
Agreement as a ‘recipe for sectarian confrontation’, while restrictions on the
display of Unionist symbols in Protestant-dominated workplaces is ‘foolish’ since
they restrict the ‘greater expression of the relatively secular and modernising
aspects of the Unionist tradition’ (Bew and Patterson 1987:56). This is an

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astonishing description of a tradition by which Protestant workers have excluded,

often violently, Catholic workers from employment.
In the context of Northern Ireland, commitment to ‘bread and butter’ class
issues inevitably involves taking a position on the constitutional issues. It can
actually reinforce the problem of working-class division since ‘economic disunity
within the working class was founded upon the domination of Catholic workers’
(Stewart 1991:184). In this world equal rights is ‘deemed sectarian and bigotry
is labelled as secular’ (Munck 1992:98). Denunciation of nationalist demands in
favour of an abstract ‘working-class unity’ has led critics like Bew and Patterson
into an increasingly conservative defence of the constitutional status quo.

NORTHERN IRELAND—AN UNREFORMABLE STATE?

The third group of explanations sees the source of the continuing conflict as
lying in the fundamentally undemocratic nature of Northern Ireland. Partition,
in this view, involved the denial of national rights to Catholics in the North,
entrenching their subordinate position within the Unionist-dominated state. No
‘internal settlement’, based on the present boundaries of Northern Ireland, could
therefore be either just or permanent.

Nationalism
Nationalism, like unionism, spans a range of political positions from left to right,
Catholic and secular. Nationalism also includes both social conservatives and
feminists. McGarry and O’Leary (1995:17) distinguish between civic and ethnic
nationalism. The former, of which the United Irishmen movement was the first
exponent, is based on equal citizenship for all residents of the state. Ethnic
nationalism on the other hand links citizenship to ethnicity, claiming rights for
the ‘Irish people’. The former is obviously a more inclusive concept, although
many nationalists claim that the ‘Irish people’ includes Protestants (even if they
themselves do not wish to belong to an ‘Irish nation’). 9
Another major divide is between constitutional and militant nationalism. Both
draw on aspects of civic and ethnic nationalism. The party of constitutional
nationalism, the Social Democratic and Labour Party, espouses a broadly social
democratic programme, although it is conservative on sexual matters. It has
close links with the Catholic Church, and its support, which comes
overwhelmingly from the Catholic community, is largely based on ethnic loyalty.
The official doctrine of Sinn Fein and the IRA is civic republicanism, together
with a radical economic and social programme. The movement, however, draws
much of its support, and its symbolism, from ethnic nationalism.
For nationalists, the principle of self-determination is tied to the whole island
of Ireland. Ireland is seen as a natural, historic entity, with unity marking the
completion of the national struggle. Nationalists also claim legitimacy from the
last all-Ireland general election in 1918, when the majority of voters supported

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Sinn Fein on a platform demanding independence for the whole of Ireland.

Unionists have challenged the historical basis of an ‘Irish nation’, arguing that
both culturally and physically, Northern Ireland is more closely linked to Britain
(particularly Scotland) than to the rest of Ireland (Green 1995:20).
Majority rule is taken as an absolute principle by both unionists and
nationalists, but they are entrenched in contradictory conceptions of the legitimate
boundary for that rule. The issue of whose majority is legitimate can be
exhaustively argued (see e.g. McGarry and O’Leary 1995). These debates are
ultimately sterile if based on abstract principle and headcounts, rather than an
examination of the concrete institutions and structures through which majority
rule is exercised. The experience of Northern Ireland has been that the state is
incapable of guaranteeing democratic rights. Protestant majority rule was the
raison d’être for the state’s boundaries, and continuing Unionist rule depended
on the exclusion of Catholics. The constitutional issue became entrenched as
the major political divide, and the ‘numbers game’ has dictated unionist reaction
to any policy proposal. The state has not become ‘normalised’, and progressive
politics has not been able to flourish.
Nationalists place primary responsibility for the conflict on Britain, although
opinions differ as to the motives for British policy. British support and appeasement
of unionists has been blamed, as well as neglect and ignorance, and strategic and
economic interest. The history of the Stormont regime suggests that in fact all of
these have been important at different times. Until the civil rights movement forced
Ireland onto the agenda, the British state relied on Unionist rule through Stormont,
and British governments turned a blind eye to evidence of discrimination. In the
continuing military conflict, nationalists can point to a series of human rights
abuses and to a security policy, which, though purportedly neutral, has been targeted
primarily at Catholic areas (see Chapter 4).
The IRA and its political wing, Sinn Fein, maintain that the ‘armed struggle’ is
a continuation of the anti-colonial struggle. The IRA’s campaign followed the
brutal state response to the civil rights movement, and Republicans claimed that
this demonstrated the impossibility of transforming Northern Ireland’s
undemocratic structures by peaceful protest and electoral politics alone.
Republican violence is supported by a small minority of nationalists, although a
much larger group is sympathetic to its aims and gives passive support. The
taboo against informing on Republicans is strong. Sinn Fein has won a substantial
minority of the nationalist vote in elections since the 1980s, its vote rising in
periods of heightened tension.
The IRA’s campaign has been aimed primarily at the ‘Crown’ security forces—
British Army, and local. It has had three main strategies: defence of Catholic
areas; striking security forces and key strategic targets; and economic targets—
increasingly in Britain. The latter strategy aimed at forcing withdrawal by making
it too expensive (both economically and politically), for the British state to
continue its involvement in Northern Ireland, through its impact on British
public opinion.10 Few people have been killed by the IRA merely because they

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are Protestant, although Protestants sometimes interpret the killing of UDR or

RUC officers as sectarian because these organisations are overwhelmingly
Protestant. The IRA’s definition of ‘legitimate target’ widened in the years
preceding the ceasefire, and ‘economic targets’ have frequently involved a reckless
disregard for the likely loss of life. Recent bombings, particularly in mainland
Britain, have been aimed at civilian areas such as shopping centres, and—in spite
of the warnings given—have put the lives of people who could not conceivably
be described as ‘legitimate targets’ at risk.

Green Marxism
Many Marxists have supported the nationalist cause, arguing that it is objectively
anti-imperialist and therefore progressive. Organisations broadly within the anti-
imperialist camp have given varying degrees of critical support to the ‘armed
struggle’. While they may disagree about the tactics and strategy of the Provisional
IRA, they sympathise with its aim of an independent united Ireland. Anti-
imperialists support the emphasis placed by James Connolly on the inseparability
of nationalism and socialism in Ireland. In this view partition represents the
denial by British imperialism, in alliance with unionism, of democracy to the
majority of the Irish people. The border divides the working class, preventing
the development of independent socialist politics in either state.
The theory of the labour aristocracy has ‘a central place in traditional Marxist
analysis of Northern Ireland’ (McAuley and McCormack 1991:116). The concept
is mainly associated with Lenin (1982) who used it to explain divisions within
the British working class at the turn of the century. The labour aristocracy
suggests a material explanation for working-class divisions, which derives from
the relationship of Protestants to the state. But the attempt to analyse the divisions
in Northern Ireland using the Leninist theory (itself poorly developed)11 has
been problematic. The labour aristocracy has been used variously to describe
the Protestant community (Bell 1976:22), the Protestant working class (Marlowe
and Palmer 1978:12), Protestant manual workers (Farrell 1980:16), or Protestant
skilled workers (Gibbon 1975). This confusion can present a view of the Protestant
community as homogeneous, or a simplistic identification of Protestant with
skilled labour and Catholic with unskilled.
The labour aristocracy theory implies that the working class will normally
unite in support of progressive and socialist ideas, so that a special explanation is
required when this does not happen (Reid 1980:113). Moreover, it suggests that
the least privileged sections will naturally be the most politically progressive.
Workers are always split along a series of lines—for example by gender, race and
ethnicity or religion. Class unity is therefore something to be forged in concrete
circumstances around particular struggles (Anthias and Yuval Davis 1983).
A crucial element in Lenin’s theorising was the imperial connection: skilled
workers gained their material advantages from imperial super-profits, and thus
supported the war efforts of their ruling class during the First World War. This

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element has been relevant in Northern Ireland, where the relation with Britain
and the Empire has been crucial to unionism, both in material and ideological
terms. Protestant-dominated industry developed to serve a world—and particularly
an Empire—market. At partition, a large proportion of production was directly
or indirectly concerned with armaments, and thus the fate of Protestant workers
was tied to the fate of the Empire. The descendants of the colonial settlers of
Cromwell’s time, Protestants in many ways still see themselves as defenders of
the British Empire, maintaining civilised standards and the Protestant way of
life against the tide of barbarism or Romanism (Bell 1976).
Anti-imperialists have made a major contribution in detailed analyses of the
Northern Ireland state which have demonstrated how divisions between
Protestants and Catholics have been built into the structures of Northern Ireland
(e.g. Farrell 1980; O’Dowd et al. 1981). Less progress has been made in analysing
the nature of Britain’s imperialist interest in Ireland, or in applying recent
theoretical developments in this area to Ireland. Bew et al. (1979) can with justice
criticise anti-imperialists for their loose conception of imperialism, which is often
used merely to describe violence and repression. These criticisms do not
necessarily mean however, as Bew and his collaborators claim, that imperialism
is irrelevant in contemporary Ireland. As one leading writer on dependency
suggests, the South has ‘suffered from many of the attributes described by the
Latin American theory of “dependency”’ and ‘we cannot afford to discard the
theoretical framework of imperialism’ (Munck 1992:101). Lysaght, writing in
the 1970s, summarised the issues around which he argued British imperial
interests centred:
firstly, the historic ‘Northern Irish Connection’ through which they are
influenced by the leading families of the six counties Protestant community;
secondly the military aspect: Northern Ireland is a useful bridgehead on
an island that commands Britain’s western approaches; thirdly, the fear
that social revolution might arise out of any escalated anti-imperialist
struggle …fourthly, the classic ‘imperialist’ reason—economic investment…
[fifthly]…Irish investment in Britain, its colonies and dominions.
(Lysaght 1980:12)
There has been substantial restructuring in the economic and political relations
between Ireland and Britain, and in the global and European context in which
these relations exist. These points nevertheless summarise the key issues. Links
between the Conservative Party and unionists have undoubtedly influenced
policy. Unionists have seen every move towards opening up the constitutional
question—including the Anglo-Irish Agreement, the Downing Street Declaration
of 1993 and the Framework Document of 1995—as a betrayal. They were
nevertheless allowed to operate a virtual veto on any progress towards talks,
even after the paramilitary ceasefires.
Britain’s presence in Northern Ireland was strategically important during the
Second World War, and Ireland’s neutrality was a continuing source of conflict.

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With the end of the Cold War and increased European integration, this has
become less important. Britain’s direct military involvement in Ireland has had
major implications for British society. Counter-insurgency brought the
development of new technology (BSSRS 1974; Ackroyd et al. 1977) and changes
in the law, avowedly aimed at combating terrorism, which have placed
considerable restrictions on civil liberties. The most important of these has been
the Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA), passed in the wake of the bombing in
1974 of a Birmingham pub, which killed and injured a large number of civilians.
The Act allows detention of suspects for prolonged periods, and the deportation
of suspected terrorists from Britain to both Northern and Southern Ireland. The
latter is in effect ‘internal exile’ within the United Kingdom.
Interest in Ireland remains marginal to British political life, and anti-imperialist
and human rights campaigns have not been able to develop significant links to
broader social movements. The bi-partisan policy on Ireland pursued by the
two major parties has effectively prevented serious discussion within mainstream
politics. Restrictions on the media (Curtis 1984) and the deportation of activists
under the PTA have also been effective in silencing dissent.
Economic relations between Britain and Ireland have become more complex
during the twentieth century, and a simplistic imperialist model of surplus
extraction is unsustainable. The massive subvention to Northern Ireland from
the British exchequer might suggest that Britain’s economic interests would
be better served by abandoning her claim to the North. This argument is itself
too narrow. Imperial relations are not merely between geographical states, but
constitute social relations. A large element of the subvention from British
taxpayers goes to support businesses, many of which are British owned. More
importantly, the subvention sustains capitalist social relations within Northern
Ireland.
Southern Ireland has become a major site for British, as well as European,
US and Japanese capital. At the same time, as Lysaght points out, much Irish
capital is invested overseas through banking and financial sectors since the
underdevelopment of the economy limits profitable outlets for investment.
Underdevelopment in Ireland also continues to provide the British economy
with cheap labour, as lack of employment opportunities forces many,
predominantly young, workers to emigrate.
The interest of the British state lies in maintaining stability in Ireland, and
preserving the existing property relations. This may not in itself necessarily
imply any specific constitutional position. Partition, however, continues to be
the best guarantee of these relations. By dividing progressive forces, both within
Northern Ireland and between North and South, it obstructs any effective
challenge to current development strategies. The overriding aim of British state
policy during the conflict has been the maintenance of the constitutional position
and defence of the Union.

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SECTARIANISM AND ETHNICITY

Sectarian divisions are increasingly being discussed in terms of ethnicity. In a
study of two Belfast housing estates, for example, Howe describes how
the two communities have been established and they are kept in being by
the complex interaction of cultural, ethnic, political and economic factors.
These tend to be mutually reinforcing…the cultural differences which act
as boundary markers, to label and identify the two groups are also used to
recruit people to kinship groups, economic roles and political positions
and this in turn consolidates the separation of the two communities.
(Howe 1990:31)
Sectarian divisions are sometimes described in terms of racism, which like
ethnicity is rooted in notions of power and exclusion. Racism however, ‘posits
an essential biological determination to culture’ (Anthias and Yuval Davis
1983:67). There is no obvious physical distinction between Protestant and
Catholic on which to hang racist practice, but the language of racism has been
commonplace, Ian Paisley’s paper, the Protestant Telegraph, has used racist language
about Catholics, describing them as ‘two-legged rats’ (O’Connor 1993:177).
Curtis (1984b) has shown how Irish people have been ‘racialised’ throughout
the history of colonialism. At the height of ‘scientific’ racism in the nineteenth
century, the need to control the Irish was ‘explained’ in terms of biology: Irish
people were portrayed as having smaller skulls than the Anglo Saxon ‘ideal’.
Wilson used supposedly ‘inherent’ cultural characteristics to explain the inferior
status of Catholics (see p. 48 above).
While racist discourse has underpinned exclusionary practices in Northern
Ireland, ethnicity, which does not depend on a supposed biological base, is a
more useful concept in relation to sectarianism, where religion has become the
‘boundary marker’ for ethnic divisions (Shirlow and McGovern 1995). The
categories ‘Protestant’ and ‘Catholic’ have a particular social meaning in Northern
Ireland. Increasingly, the labels are being replaced by ‘from the Protestant
community’ or ‘the Catholic community’, emphasising their ethnic, rather than
religious significance.
Ethnic groups involve the social construction of an origin, and the idea of a
common fate, as a basis for community. This origin ‘can be historically,
territorially, culturally or physiognomically based’ (Anthias and Yuval Davis
1992:4). Ethnic groupings are not fixed entities, but are constructed and
reconstructed in relation to specific social process. They can therefore lose their
significance in other contexts. The current constructions of Protestant and
Catholic identity in Northern Ireland derive from the history of the formation
of the state, and relations of power and dominance within it. Northern Protestant
identity, for example, is not shared with Protestants in the South of Ireland.
Many Protestants experience a crisis in their ‘British’ identity when they travel
to Britain. The distinction between Protestant and Catholic is barely appreciated

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there,12 and Protestants find themselves treated simply as Irish. As Sarah, a

Protestant feminist who is now active in a cross-community project, told me:
‘I only started to explore my identity when I was a student in England.
Everybody assumed that because I was Irish I must be a Catholic.’13
One of the distinctive features of ethnic divisions in Northern Ireland is that
they encompass deep differences over the constitutional position of the state
they share. Multi-culturalism suggests that the promotion of tolerance and mutual
esteem for ‘the two traditions’ can overcome conflict. But these traditions represent
different—and mutually exclusive—political ambitions. ‘Esteem’ therefore involves
some degree of political sympathy (English 1994:98–9). According to Maeve, a
member of Clar na mBan, a group of nationalist feminists:
‘The Orange marches this year brought out the problems with the cultural
traditions approach—the notion of “traditional routes” which go through
Catholic areas is about expressing power over Catholics.’14
Jane, a Protestant who is also sympathetic to nationalism, described her
ambiguous feelings during the ‘marching season’:
‘On the Twelfth I knew I was different from Catholics. I was not scared—
but my Catholic friends were scared and rightly so. I love bands in my
stomach, but I hate them in my head.’15
She went on to criticise Orange marches through Catholic areas:
‘It is a display of triumphalism, and they do it to provoke. They wouldn’t
dare march up the Falls. The Hibernians16 have taken a policy decision to
march only in Catholic areas. I wouldn’t mind if the Orangemen only
marched in their own areas but they insist on marching through Catholic
areas.’

Gender and ethnicity

Discussions of ethnicity in Northern Ireland have given limited attention to
gender, but communal boundaries often use differences in the way women are
socially constructed as markers (Anthias and Yuval Davis 1992:113–14). Women
are seen as guardians of the family, and transmitters of community values to the
next generation. Rules governing sexuality may be tightly enforced, particularly
when the community appears to be under threat. For some Northern Ireland
Protestants, women who have relationships with ‘one of them’ are a symbolic
affront to their own community (Bruce 1994:126). Punishment for transgression
can be death.
Gendered ideologies have been prominent in the construction of the two
communities. Nationalist mythology uses images of woman’s eternal suffering—
‘Mother Ireland’, ‘dark Rosaleen’—as a metaphor for Ireland’s oppression. Derry

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City is known both as the ‘Maiden City’ and ‘mother of us all’ (McLaughlin
1986). The discourse of colonialism is replete with gendered imagery, which
often uses metaphors of rape and sexual conquest, while ‘Irish nationalists
fashioned the male hero as one who liberated the abducted female through
repossession’ (Innes 1994:127).
Women were thus given ‘a symbolically central and materially peripheral place’
in nationalist discourse (ibid.). A prominent nationalist image during the hunger
strikes of the 1980s was the Virgin Mary watching over the dying prisoners.
Republicans have also promoted more active images of nationalist women as
‘freedom fighters’, drawing on a tradition of strong Gaelic women. A report of a
conference of republican feminists finished with the call to participants to be ‘worthy
successors of Brigid, Maeve and Grainne Mhaol’ (Clar na mBan 1994:6).
There is no equivalent symbolic role for women in Protestantism, where
worship of the Virgin Mary is strongly condemned (MeWilliams 1991:86).
Unionism is associated with conquest and settlement, its imagery triumphalist
and masculine. There are no heroines in this world, and no symbolically female
territory to be liberated.
Although the meanings attached to a person’s identification with the
community have little to do with religious belief, the Churches play a powerful
role in cementing community identity. Church attendance is the highest in Europe
outside the Irish Republic. Women are more frequent attenders: 58 per cent
attended weekly in 1991, compared to 43 per cent of men (Morgan 1992). Even
among those who do not go to Church, ‘the language of religious identity is not
very distant’ (Morrow et al. 1994:6). The Churches are integral to the life of the
communities, and ‘provide much of the framework within which apparently
secular social personal and community life is lived’ (ibid.: 19). The Churches
promote and reinforce notions of deference and obedience, and conformity to a
rigid code of sexual behaviour. The sexual division of labour in the Churches—
with a male clergy and a predominantly female congregation—symbolises gender
relations in the wider sphere of social and political life.
There are a small number of non-Christian groups within Northern Ireland,
but their numbers are small, representing less than 0.2 per cent of the population
(1991 Census). The exhaustiveness of the binary Protestant/Catholic divide
provides little space for alternative agendas. The separation of life makes it possible
for some people to lead most of their lives through their own institutions. Both
communities are dominated by socially conservative ideologies, but there is ‘no
easy tolerant wider society to aspire to or be tempted by’ (O’Connor 1993:328).

Protestant identity
Protestant identity is linked to a number of—sometimes conflicting—national
identities. Images of place have been extremely powerful in nationalist ideology
(the idea of the unity of the island, Ireland’s four ancient provinces as the Four
Green Fields) but Protestants lack an agreed representation of place to legitimate

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their residence in Ireland. This confusion over what territory it can claim as its
own has been a major weakness of Unionist ideology (Graham 1995:1).
Protestants have traditionally seen themselves as descendants of settlers, with
strong links to Britain, and particularly to Scotland. Ian Adamson’s attempt to
recover a more ancient link to Ireland, based on the notion that Protestants are
descendants of the Cruthin, the original inhabitants of Ulster (Adamson 1981:1)
has gained little support. Protestants are often ambivalent about claiming to be
Irish, and Unionists insist that the South is a ‘foreign country’.
The 1990–91 Attitudes Survey showed a marked shift among Protestants
between 1968 and 1989 towards identifying themselves as British (Moxon-
Browne 1991). The reality may be more complicated. When asked to choose
one category, people tend to make a political statement which may not reflect
the complexity of national identity, or the way it changes in different contexts.
People may identify as British politically, but in their day-to-day lives see
themselves as Northern Irish, or even sometimes as Irish (e.g. in relation to
some all-Ireland sporting events, or in response to anti-Irish racism).
Unionism has been the hegemonic politics within the Protestant community
in the North East of Ireland for nearly two centuries. Following the defeat of the
United Irishmen and the Act of Union, Northern Protestants increasingly saw
their interests tied to Britain rather than the rest of Ireland. A minority supported
Home Rule in the nineteenth century, and it was not until the foundation of the
Northern Ireland state that unionism became dominant to the virtual exclusion
of other positions.
With the creation of Northern Ireland, Protestant domination was
institutionalised, with economic and political power and privilege reproduced
through Unionist rule at Stormont. Class differences and struggles were
accommodated within the wider political divide which centred on the national
question. Rather than being mutually exclusive, the ‘ideologies of sectarianism,
labourism and collectivism coexist’ (McAuley 1994:52).
Unionist ideology combines a consciousness of superiority with defensiveness.
The Churches have perhaps been especially influential in shaping Protestant
communal identity, since unlike nationalists, they have no unique language with
which to identify, and have had to ‘define themselves in terms of belonging to a
religious group’ (McNamee and Lovett 1992:388). Bruce argues that the
monotheistic religious tradition offers ‘radical divisions between the good and
the bad, the saved and the unsaved, the godly and the ungodly’ (Bruce 1994:26).
These dualities legitimise separation based on religious identity. This
consciousness was sustained by very real differences in material conditions under
Stormont. Catholics were the ‘despised “croppies”’ (Wilson quoted in Lee
1989:418) whose impoverished conditions marked them as different, and justified
to Protestants their inferior status.
At the same time, Protestants have been conscious that they are a minority in
Ireland as a whole, and fear being overrun by Dublin, or outbred by Catholics
in the North. A further source of insecurity is fear of betrayal by Britain: that in

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spite of Mrs Thatcher’s assertion that ‘Northern Ireland is as British as Finchley’,

to the people of England, Scotland and Wales, Northern Ireland is another
country, from which they would quite happily separate. The ‘numbers game’
has characterised Unionist response to Catholic demands for inclusion, making
politics under Stormont a zero sum game, with compromise seen as weakness or
betrayal (Nelson 1984:16–17).
This type of politics makes any challenge to the status quo potentially dangerous,
providing little scope for radical visions of the future. According to one DUP
Councillor, ‘if you’re a socialist in any way people immediately brand you as a
republican’ (quoted in McAuley 1994:74). The Orange Order and the Churches
have encouraged conformity to rigid puritanical values. Catholic community
and Church leaders, while hardly less conservative, because they opposed the
regime, have been more tolerant of challenges to the status quo (Nelson 1984:44).

Gender and Protestantism

The dominant ideologies of Protestantism make a sharp separation between
male and female spheres. Protestant Churches ‘elevated conjugality over virginity
[and] Protestant clergy were more likely to devolve the role of moral guide to
husbands and fathers within the family’ (O’Dowd 1987:14–15). Positions of
power and influence are dominated by an almost exclusively male clergy. Women
play a vital role within the congregation, but are ‘marginalised or excluded from
power’ (Fraser 1995). The women’s organisations of the Church reflect the
‘picture of the woman as child-rearer and home-maker’ (Morrow et al. 1994:23).
The domestic sphere is also under male authority. In the words of Ian Paisley,
leader of the Free Presbyterian Church:
I believe that the husband is the head of the wife and the home. I believe
that the father should be prophet, priest and king in his home.
(cited in Fairweather et al. 1984:266)
Mrs Eileen Paisley described herself as ‘just a minister’s wife. I think the husband
is head of the home certainly…marriage is a partnership with the man at the
head’ (ibid.: 274). This view of womanhood is deeply embedded in evangelical
Christianity. In the literature of the temperance movement, women were depicted
as holding ‘significant moral authority and moral power’ (Brozyna 1994:160).
This authority, however, was confined to the domestic sphere, and did not involve
material power. Women displayed their moral power by self-sacrifice. The
apotheosis of a temperance heroine is one who redeems her wayward husband
with her own death, saving his soul through deathbed forgiveness. While a
good woman has the power to save a sinful man, women who succumb to
temptation themselves are more morally depraved than men (ibid.: 167).
A study of domestic violence in the 1990s suggests that these attitudes are far
from dead. Cultural beliefs about the place of women and the sanctity of marriage
may serve to condone it (MeWilliams and McKiernan 1993:23), and the study

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showed that domestic violence, though prevalent, remains largely hidden (ibid.:
33). Northern Irish women do not in general conform to a stereotype of
‘traditional attitudes’ (Kremer and Curry 1986). Views on family morality are,
however, significantly more conservative than in Britain, with Protestants,
particularly women, less liberal than Catholics (Montgomery and Davies 1991).
Paisley’s Church represents a tiny minority of Protestant congregations, but
his influence is much broader through his political roles as leader of the
Democratic Unionist Party (DUP), an MP and MEP17 By providing a home for
religious and political dissidents, Paisley’s religious and political movements
‘have acted to retard liberal tendencies in those organizations’ (Bruce 1994:21).
The ideology promoted by these movements denies women legitimacy in the
public sphere. Protestant political organisations perpetuate a strongly male culture,
and ‘the bonding rituals of the ascendancy, like the Orange Order or the masons
have totally excluded and rejected women’ (Gordon 1990:7).
Women have played a vital support role within the political parties. The
Ulster Women’s Unionist Council, formed in 1911, involved women in a variety
of activities, including public campaigning, which allowed the predominantly
upper-and middle-class membership to gain ‘a sense of freedom and independence
which was forbidden to them in other spheres’ (Urquart 1994:116). Women’s
role was tightly circumscribed however. The Council refused to discuss women’s
suffrage, and ‘no overt encouragement was ever given to women standing for
parliamentary election in the period 1918–40’ (ibid.: 111). No woman was elected
to the Westminster Parliament, and only four to Stormont during that period.
Those women who have become active in politics and stood for elected office
have rarely pursued an independent agenda. Iris Robinson, wife of the DUP
deputy leader Peter Robinson, was elected as a Councillor in 1994. She told a
community conference that she did not pretend ‘to be anything other than a
simple housewife, one that loves her country deeply. I don’t have any particular
skills’ (quoted in Hall 1994:27).
There have been some shifts in more recent years. The official language of
equal opportunities has been incorporated into public policy statements. The
appointment in 1987 of Rhonda Paisley, Ian Paisley’s daughter, as DUP
spokesperson for women’s issues marked a recognition of the changing realities
of women’s position in the 1980s. But for the mainstream parties this commitment
has been minimalist, and has not begun to tackle the crucial issue of the regulation
of sexuality. Rhonda Paisley herself, in an article entitled, ‘Feminism, Unionism
and “the brotherhood”’ criticised the male domination of Unionism and called
for ‘a radical re-think of our involvement in Unionist politics’ (Paisley 1992).
She has since resigned as party spokesperson, to be replaced by Iris Robinson.
The conservatism of mainstream politics has made it difficult for some Protestant
women to find a positive identity as Protestants. The need for loyalty operates ‘as
a regulator of women’s lives, structuring their every day lives, and maintaining
their alienation from themselves and other women’ (Moore 1993:78). The strong
association of Protestantism with Unionism has meant that those women who

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have been active in progressive politics, for example in the women’s movement or
trade unions, have often found it difficult to identify themselves as part of the
Protestant community. Protestants who reject Unionism are often assumed to be
Catholics—an assumption it has sometimes been easier to leave unchallenged.
More recently non-Unionist Protestant women have started to ‘come out’ as
Protestants,18 and to reclaim a positive identity for themselves which is not based
purely on negating their own background and experience. Ruth Moore explained
that her MA dissertation on Protestant women was written from ‘a need to
belong’ as a Protestant woman, feminist, Irish and British:
Protestant women experience their lives as other, as other to Catholic
women and Catholic domination in Ireland as a whole, and the British
state and particularly to protestant men in Northern Ireland.
(Moore 1993:2)
One significant move in this exploration was a workshop at a conference on Women
in the 1990s organised by the Workers’ Educational Association (WEA 1990).
Hazel Gordon led a workshop on Protestant identities and spoke publicly for the
first time about what being a Protestant meant to her. She explained that when she
had used her married name she was often thought to be a Catholic. She had taken
this as a compliment because she did not want to be identified as a Unionist, ‘but
then I felt I was denying my identity: if everybody with my views is taken for a
Catholic, the decent Protestants are not being heard’. She reverted to an
unambiguously Protestant name which meant ‘coming out of the closet’:
‘Speaking at that conference was really scary—looking back on it now I
wonder what the fear was. The conference has been really important in
discussing attitudes and released a lot of stuff in the Protestant community
If it had involved men, it would have been hailed as an important event,
but it did not get the publicity it deserved.’19

NATIONALIST IDENTITY
Nationalism in Northern Ireland, though drawing on a wider Irish nationalist
discourse has been constructed in the very particular circumstances of Northern
Ireland. The sense of dispossession arising from the colonial past, and
identification with a Gaelic heritage, is combined with the oppression and
exclusion of Catholics in Northern Ireland, and the central role this has given to
the Catholic Church in the life of the community. The legitimacy of the Northern
Ireland state has never been fully accepted by many who have distanced
themselves from Republicanism, and even ardent opponents of Sinn Fein can
describe being emotionally stirred by rebel songs (O’Connor 1993:106).
While contemporary Republicans claim the inclusive, non-sectarian heritage
of the United Irishmen, many continue to proclaim their loyalty to ‘the one true
Church’. They recognise its power within the community and generally refrain

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from being openly critical. As O’Connor noted, Sinn Fein President Gerry Adams
has become ‘conspicuously prayerful’ (ibid.: 293). Nationalist aspirations, though
often based on a narrow view of Irishness, are generally not specifically anti-
Protestant. While they may hold crude and uninformed views of Protestants,
Catholics will generally denounce bigotry.
The Church for its part has played an ambiguous role in relation to the
politics of the community. It provides a source of cohesion and identity through
the schools, the Church hall, ceilidhs, carnivals, concerts, and plays. Priests and
school teachers have status and authority in the community. The Church
condemns violence, but cannot afford to alienate its flock by cutting itself off
from Republicans. Republican funerals have frequently involved a mass in the
local Church, followed by a military-style salute over the grave. These
contradictions have rarely been openly discussed. There has been no liberation
theology in Northern Ireland to make common cause with Republicans, and
very few priests have openly supported Republicanism.

Gender and nationalism

Nationalist ideology is strongly gendered, though it incorporates alternative
visions of women’s roles. In the dominant construction, women figure
prominently as ‘bearers of national honour and the scapegoats of national identity’
(Meaney 1993:233). The country is referred to as ‘Mother Ireland’, and women’s
proper place is seen in the home, preferably rearing sons who will devote
themselves to the cause of liberating the nation. In the Republican tradition, the
notion of blood sacrifice is prominent, with violence in the cause of the nation
claimed to imply purity of motives. These themes are illustrated in a well-known
song, the Four Green Fields:
Long time ago, said the fine old woman
I had four green fields, each one was a jewel
But strangers came, and tried to take them from me
I had four strong sons, they fought to save my jewels
They fought and they died and that was my grief, said she
Long time ago, said the fine old woman
There was war and strife, murdering and pillage
My people died by mountain, valley and stream
And their wailing cry, it reached the very heaven
And my four green fields ran red with their blood, said she
What have I now, said the fine old woman
I have four green fields, one of them’s in bondage
By strangers held, who tried to keep it from me
But my sons they have sons, as brave as were their fathers,
And my four green fields will bloom once again, said she

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The Church has played a crucial role in reinforcing gender roles, especially
through schooling, since well over 90 per cent of Catholics go to Church schools.
The Catholic Church in Ireland has remained extremely conservative. There
has been little echo of debates around women’s role and social questions which
have rocked Catholic Churches elsewhere. Women have not played a prominent
public role, and only one Catholic woman, Mary McAleese, is well known
specifically for her role as a Catholic layperson.
The nationalist tradition does offer women alternative, more active images.
The community’s exclusion from power has made it more receptive to
oppositional tendencies. Nationalist women claim a Gaelic tradition in which
women are strong. A Sinn Fein Women’s Policy document for example, claimed
that women in Celtic Ireland had more equality with men than at any time since
then, and attributed women’s oppression to the imposition of the ideologies of
Victorian England (Sinn Fein 1980:1). Women in the anti-imperialist group Clar
na mBan claim feminism and republicanism as natural allies, since both are anti-
state and revolutionary, a view echoed in the tendency of Protestants to associate
feminism with republicanism since both challenge the existing order.

THE IMPACT OF CONFLICT ON WOM EN

The impact of ‘the Troubles’ on women has been complex. On the one hand,
the past twenty years have seen a polarisation between the two communities,
with a reassertion of ‘traditional’ community identity and values. On the other,
divisions based on class have opened up, which in the Protestant community
have found expression in new political parties appealing to different class interests
(see e.g. McAuley 1994).
For Protestants, whose identity is bound up with a struggle to defend the
past, the experience of the past two decades has been largely one of alienation
and loss (Dunn and Morgan 1994). If politics is a zero sum game, advances
made by Catholics must be at the expense of Protestants. This problem has
intensified as economic restructuring undermines manufacturing employment,
and destroys many of the jobs on which the old ascendancy was based. Many
young working-class Protestants now find themselves without skills or
qualifications, and are increasingly expressing envy of Catholics. As one woman
put it:
‘Protestants had been told everything is OK as they were. So Catholics
had felt nobody was going to give them anything and they had gone for
education and training and were moving into high positions in the banks,
the executive, the hospitals, while the Protestants had done nothing and
were now the labourers.’20
Jackie Redpath, a prominent community worker in the Shankill, spoke of the
loss felt by Protestants at the end of the ascendancy:

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You had educated articulate Catholic representatives coming on [television],

but what did we in the Protestant community say? Why have they all the
good speakers?
(CRC 1991:24)
While the Troubles have seen a hardening of sectarianism, most strikingly the
toll of sectarian murders, the conflict has also generated some fluidity in the
social order (Ridd 1986:3) which can allow a transformation in outlook. Nelson
(1984) notes that it is sometimes the more hardline loyalists who have been
most open to new ideas. Some loyalist former prisoners have been active in the
new community groups and political parties which are attempting to re-evaluate
the Protestant experience, and develop new strategies, including cooperation
with Catholics.
For women, the conflict has presented new yet contradictory possibilities.
Opportunities are opened up as women take on roles which men are forced to
abandon through imprisonment or military activity, but men may also ‘step up
efforts to control women and try to reinforce the boundary that separates their
domain from the public sphere’ (Ridd 1986:3–4). The impact and new possibilities
opened up have been different for nationalist and unionist women, because of
the very different agendas of the two communities. Catholics are fighting for
change, Protestants to defend the present and the past. Nationalism has provided
more space for radical ideas, and women have been more visible in its politics—
as spokespeople for their communities (Edgerton 1986:70) and also involved in
paramilitary activity (Morgan and Fraser 1995:89). For Unionists, feminism is
associated with ‘the other side’, and regarded as an object of suspicion (Morgan
and Fraser 1994:5).
This suspicion has been reinforced by responses to the conflict from outside
Northern Ireland. Sarah Nelson claimed that researchers have seemed to find
Catholics more interesting and sympathetic subjects of study than Protestants
(cited in Moxon-Browne 1983:81). Journalists have also been seen as only
interested in Catholics, especially as international interest in and sympathy for
the Republican hunger strikes developed. Protestants have tended to see
intellectuals as hostile, which has ‘cut them off from resources they could use for
their own benefit’, such as civil liberties groups (Nelson 1984:74). Republican
women have developed links with feminists in Britain and elsewhere, which
have provided support in their struggle for a women’s agenda. Protestants have
been largely excluded from these sources of support and ideas. A feeling of
betrayal and isolation does not provide a fertile ground for new ideas.
Twenty-five years of military conflict have inevitably had major implications
for political priorities and practice. Militarism makes politics more secretive, placing
a premium on community loyalty. In this context it is sometimes dangerous to
raise agendas which conflict with the mainstream within the community.
The use of violence against the ‘other side’ has been sanctioned, or at least
tolerated, by large sections of the population. While Republican violence has

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generally aimed at what they define as ‘legitimate targets’ (those with some
connection with the security forces) loyalists have more often engaged in purely
sectarian killing. According to McGarry and O’Leary, 6 per cent of republican
killings could be described as sectarian, compared with 78 per cent of loyalist
deaths (1995:87). The killing of Anne Marie Smyth, a Catholic lured to her death
in Protestant East Belfast, produced little initial reaction in the local area (Ferguson
1994). This was in marked contrast to the wave of revulsion in the community
caused by the murder of Margaret Wright. She was also the victim of a loyalist
gang, but this time her killers had made a mistake: they had intended to kill a
Catholic, but Margaret Wright was actually a Protestant. It was not until February
1995, two years after her murder, that there was any acknowledgement in the
local area of the horror of Anne Marie Smyth’s death. In a quiet ceremony attended
by her father and local community leaders, a tree was planted in her memory in
the strongly loyalist area where her body was found. It is unlikely that this event
would have been possible except during the ceasefires.
The sanctioning of violence has also been extended to those who fail to
conform within their own community, particularly women who break the rules
(Fairweather et al. 1984). Evason suggests that the existence of an ‘armed
patriarchy’ has led to increased control of women in the home, so that ‘power
gained outside the home may be deployed within it, adding an extra dimension
to all the means men normally have for oppressing women’ (Evason 1982).
Women are inhibited in calling the police when attacked, since this is ‘squealing’
(MeWilliams and McKiernan 1993).
Some women have become directly involved in military activity. Sinn Fein
Women’s Department’s pamphlet Women in Struggle (1994) celebrates women’s
involvement in all aspects of the Republican movement, including as ‘volunteers’.
Some of those mentioned—Mairead Farrell shot dead in Gibraltar, the Price sisters
who went on hunger strike in Brixton prison, and Sinn Fein Vice President Maire
Drumm, who was murdered in a hospital bed—became well-known names
throughout Ireland and elsewhere. There has been a significant number of
Republican women prisoners for many years, a cause of pride to the group of
Sinn Fein women with whom I spoke: ‘our girls went through it’. They claimed
that Republican prisoners have ‘comradeship and a belief in what they are doing’
while the loyalists were only following men’s orders.21
Much less is known about loyalist women paramilitaries (Morgan and Fraser
1995) who appear to have had less prominence within the movement. The
women’s branch of the UDA was disbanded in 1974 following the murder by its
members of Ann Ogilby, a married Protestant woman who made prison visits
to an unmarried prisoner. Her murder provoked revulsion even among UDA
prisoners (Fairweather et al. 1984:283). While punishment of women who
transgress has been tolerated within the Protestant community, the fact that it
was women, acting on their own initiative, who carried out this particularly
brutal murder may have contributed to the condemnation.
Loyalist women’s activity has centred largely on welfare work and support for

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male prisoners. Women whose husbands are imprisoned have had to renegotiate
domestic roles. This has not been easy, as one prisoner’s wife explained:
‘I’m dreading him coming out! He always expected me to be perfect, I
think all men do, but I’ve had to learn to be independent. If he’s there he’ll
be saying I should be doing the dishes…he’s in for a shock, we’ve changed
that much.’
(quoted in Fairweather et al. 1984:301)
Joan, who works as an advice worker in women’s centres in a Protestant area,
expressed anxiety at the effect on the working-class community in which she
lives of the release of loyalist prisoners, many of whom have committed extremely
violent crimes:
‘I’m even more worried about the men who have not been convicted, and
haven’t got into the system. They have had no access to services such as
counselling to help deal with the aggression and hatred of “the enemy”
which has been encouraged during the conflict.’22
The two communities have responded very differently to the presence of the
security forces on the streets. For nationalist women, this has been relatively
straightforward. The RUC was seen as a Protestant force. Mary, a member of
the moderate SDLP, recalled:
‘There was a gut feeling in the nationalist community from 1967 that we
couldn’t put our trust in the RUC when sectarian violence started.’23
The army has been seen as an alien force, provoking hostility or at best
indifference. The banging of dustbin lids to warn of the army’s approach has
been one of the most potent symbols of women’s resistance. The experience of
community resistance during the early 1970s helped politicise many nationalist
women, and has brought many into community activity. Republican women
have also highlighted the specific ways in which women have been intimidated
by the security forces, including strip searching and sexual assault (see e.g. Sinn
Fein Women’s Department 1994).
The response of Protestant women has been more ambivalent. The British
Army, and even more the police force, are seen as theirs. They did not develop
the experience of resistance which has been such a powerful basis for community
activism in the nationalist community. Where conflicts have developed in recent
years, the security forces are seen as betraying their own. In the case of the RUC
and the UDR, this is, in a sense, literally true, since both forces are over 90 per
cent Protestant.

CONCLUSION
The past twenty-five years of conflict have exposed the irreconcilable nature of
the divisions within Northern Ireland, and the futility of searching for unity

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across the sectarian divide without confronting the causes of these divisions.
Northern Ireland was founded on inequality and exclusion, and although the
original bases of Protestant power have been eroded, the sectarian divide remains
absolutely central to Northern Ireland’s political life. In this situation, the
difficulties of developing a united women’s (or working-class) agenda are exposed,
and women have in many ways shifted further apart as a result of the conflict.
The years of conflict have, nevertheless, opened up new opportunities for women
to develop their own activities and agendas, which have begun to challenge the
traditional values of the two communities.

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 4

BRITISH POLICY UNDER

DIRECT RULE

INTRODUCTION
Direct Rule from Westminster was intended as a temporary measure, pending a
political settlement. The British Government planned an early return to devolved
local government involving some form of power sharing, but it has been unable
to find a formula which would restore stability and allow it to extricate itself
from direct responsibility for Northern Ireland. Direct Rule from Westminster
has now continued for twenty-five years. The collapse of the IRA ceasefire—
which threatens the peace process begun in 1994—suggests that it will continue
in some form for many more years.
In the search for a constitutional settlement, the British Government has
attempted to represent itself as the honest broker, above the conflict. But Britain
is not neutral on the constitutional issues which divide the two communities.
The overriding aim of state policy has been the maintenance of the integrity of
the state, that is of the Union. This duality, an avowed neutrality between the
two communities, combined with commitment to a constitutional position
supported by only one of them, has shaped all aspects of its policy.
The events leading to the abolition of Stormont—especially internment and
Bloody Sunday—alienated virtually the whole Catholic community. British policy
in the early years of Direct Rule aimed at containing the revolt, reform, and the
swift implementation of an internal solution. Of these three, only containment
has been a constant feature. While reform has been necessary to defuse Catholic
opposition, any increase in economic or political power for Catholics is seen by
unionists as a threat to Protestants, and ultimately to the Union itself. Reform,
especially of employment legislation, has been slow and grudging. The RUC
remains an almost entirely Protestant force and the structural changes which
might make it acceptable to the nationalist community have never been seriously
attempted, even during the period of the peace process.
Between 1972 and 1992 there were six major constitutional initiatives,1 but
none succeeded in producing more than a temporary reversion from Direct
Rule. All attempted to find a settlement within the present boundaries of Northern
Ireland. The Anglo-Irish Agreement, signed in 1985, acknowledged for the first

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time the Republic’s interest in Northern Ireland. While the British Government
hailed it as marking the end of the Republic’s claim for national unity, the Southern
Government presented it as a defence of the nationalist aspirations of Northern
Catholics (Rolston 1987:58). Its survival therefore rested on the ability of
politicians to convince their own communities that they had made no meaningful
concessions.
The Downing Street Declaration, signed by the British and Irish Governments
in December 1993, marked a considerable shift in political debate. For the first
time since partition, a British Government recognised the possibility of a change
in Northern Ireland’s constitutional position. The declaration stated that the
British Government has ‘no selfish strategic or economic interest in Northern
Ireland’ and accepted that the outcome of the peace process might ‘take the
form of agreed structures for the island as a whole, including a united Ireland’.
The Declaration was precipitated by the Hume-Adams2 talks, which had
begun earlier that year. The ceasefires which followed in 1994, called first by the
IRA and some weeks later by loyalist paramilitaries, opened up the possibility of
real change in Ireland. This opportunity was not seized by the British
Government, which—fearful of doing anything to offend Unionist sensibilities—
placed a series of obstacles in the way of all-party talks. The resumption of IRA
violence in February 1996 was the depressing, if by then predictable, end to
seventeen months which began in hope and became increasingly mired in
stalemate.
This chapter gives an overview of some aspects of British policy in the Direct
Rule period. The first section begins by discussing the constitutional
arrangements, and the different policies of Labour and Conservative
administrations. This is followed by a discussion of security policy, and the
official response to the ceasefires. The second section discusses economic policy,
examining both economic decline and dependence during the period of Direct
Rule, which have led to a radically restructured labour market; and the way in
which economic policy has been shaped by the security situation. The final
section deals with anti-discrimination policy in relation to religion and sex equality.
It outlines the relevant legislation, and discusses the limitations of the legal process
in the face of structural inequalities.

THE DIRECT RULE ADMINI STRATION

When Stormont was prorogued in 1972, its legislative and executive powers
were transferred to Westminster. A Secretary of State of cabinet rank was placed
in charge of the Northern Ireland Office, and the responsibilities of the eight
local departments were each allocated to a minister of state. The civil, police and
military administration were unified, with a thrice weekly meeting of ministers,
senior civil servants and the heads of the security forces (Elliott and Wilford
1987:295).
Legislation was controlled from Westminster, and areas formerly under the

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control of Stormont became the subject of Orders in Council. While there was
provision for consultation with local interests, these Orders could not be amended,
and there was no direct local accountability. Financial relations with Britain
were simplified, with spending determined by British ministers, in line with UK
priorities. Expenditure has continued on the basis of parity with Britain.
Local government, the object of some of the bitterest grievances of the civil
rights movement, had already been stripped of many of its powers. Housing was
placed under the Northern Ireland Housing Executive in 1971. New electoral
boundaries came into force in 1971, reducing the number of local authorities from
73 to 26. With Direct Rule, local authorities lost all their major functions, and
their powers were largely confined to leisure and street cleansing. Education came
under five regional education and library boards; responsibility for health and
social services was combined under four regional boards. These bodies consisted
mainly of ministerial appointees, but included a minority of elected councillors,
whose appointment was, however, at the discretion of the relevant minister.
Northern Ireland politicians are in the peculiar position of regularly fighting
elections which cannot win them direct political power. They have in effect been
reduced to ‘lobbyists’ over the communal share-out of jobs (O’Dowd 1987),
with no part in shaping the policies which determine the size of the job total.
Although seats at Westminster elections cannot give them control over the policies
implemented in Northern Ireland, these elections are fought almost entirely on
specifically Northern Ireland issues—that is the constitution—by parties which
exist only in Northern Ireland. Sectarian voting patterns remain firmly in place.3
The British Conservative Party contested seats for the first time in the general
election of 1992. Its vote, 6.1 per cent of the total, was insignificant, and mainly
confined to overwhelmingly Protestant areas. The British Labour Party does
not organise as a party in Northern Ireland.4
Local councils are the only bodies where elected representatives have some
powers, however minimal. Elections are sharply contested, and are fought mainly
on the constitutional issues, although these are far outside the competence of the
councils themselves. Sinn Fein has taken a number of council seats in recent
years, and in spite of threats of boycotts, Unionists have been forced to sit on
committees with them. They have even found common cause on some economic
and social issues. Belfast City Council unanimously opposed the decision by the
management of the Royal Victoria Hospital Group to seek Trust Status in 1992.
Direct Rule replaced one-party Unionist rule with a technocratic
authoritarianism in which debate about economic and social policy has been
limited. Unionist as well as nationalist politicians complain that the political
structures of Direct Rule resemble a colonial relationship. Unlike nationalists,
they favour a local parliament based on majority rule. Nationalists claim that a
local assembly would mean the return of Unionist rule. It was objections to
John Major’s plan for an elected body in advance of all-party talks which
precipitated the end of the IRA ceasefire in 1996.
The powerlessness created by the constitutional situation is compounded for

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women. There are no political representatives to take women’s interests forward

within the formal political process. No woman has represented a Northern Ireland
seat either at Westminster or the European Parliament since Direct Rule, while
most male representatives have taken a strongly anti-feminist position. There
are few women councillors, and their lack of powers prevents local councils
from being a vehicle for promoting women’s interests. The dominance of politics
by Catholic/Protestant relations has marginalised discussion of class and gender
inequalities. The main political parties issue manifestos which include social
and economic issues, but these are rarely given prominence in reporting of
elections. As one party worker put it:
‘Our manifesto has a lot about women’s issues, including things like
childcare. But the media ignores this and just focuses on the constitutional
issues. The men don’t have to worry about stopping awkward issues being
raised—the media do it for them.’5
In the continuing political vacuum created by the constitutional situation, women
remain largely excluded from formal structures of power. They have however
become increasingly active in informal, particularly community-based, groups
which have organised and campaigned on a wide range of issues ignored by the
narrow agenda of mainstream politics.

Conservative and Labour policy under Direct Rule

The emphasis of policy has differed under Conservative and Labour
administrations, but there has been more continuity than difference. While most
British parliamentary debate is relentlessly confrontational, government
statements on Ireland are greeted with respectful attention and even
congratulations by the Opposition. Labour, anxious not to appear ‘soft on
terrorism’, has never challenged the consensus on security matters. Even where
formal policy differs, as with the Party’s opposition to the Prevention of Terrorism
Act (PTA), they have not campaigned publicly for it. Labour developed a more
distinct, pro-nationalist, policy in the 1980s, largely as a result of vigorous grass-
roots campaigning. This approach has been reversed under Tony Blair’s
leadership, and the Party has taken a significantly more pro-Unionist position.
The leadership broke with long-standing policy in 1996, when it ordered the
parliamentary party to abstain in the vote on the annual renewal of the PTA.
The bi-partisan policy has been crucial in stifling serious debate on Ireland.
The consensus between the major parties has allowed opponents of government
policy to be marginalised, and portrayed as dangerous extremists. This censorship
reached bizarre lengths in a television discussion on the conflict shortly before
the ceasefires. Bernadette McAliskey, a prominent nationalist critic of Sinn Fein
and the IRA, had her words erased from the soundtrack and delivered by sub-
titles on the screen. Her statement that she understood the causes of violence
was deemed to make her voice too dangerous to be heard by a British audience.

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The Tory administration which initiated Direct Rule attempted to devolve

power as soon as possible through the creation of a power-sharing Assembly.
Under the subsequent Labour administration, Unionist opposition to the
involvement of nationalists culminated in a strike organised under the
umbrella of the Ulster Workers Council. The government was unable or
unwilling to confront the Unionists, and allowed the Assembly to be brought
down (Boyd 1984).
Labour showed greater willingness to see Direct Rule as a semi-permanent
arrangement, particularly after the failure of another constitutional initiative in
1977. Roy Mason, the Northern Ireland Secretary, was unsympathetic to Catholic
grievances. He told his first press conference that unemployment and lack of
new investment would be his priorities (Bew et al. 1985:89). In attempting to
bring old-fashioned labourist politics to Northern Ireland, Mason ignored the
structural inequalities in access to employment and services. Increased state
spending did much to ‘underpin the reproduction of sectarianism’ (ibid.: 95).
His emphasis on building a strong economy was often more rhetorical than real.
Although Northern Ireland was spared the monetarist squeeze of the latter part
of the Callaghan Government in the 1970s, there was no serious strategy to
tackle the chronic economic problems.
Mason regularly announced that the IRA was defeated, and its supporters
isolated. His uncritical and triumphalist support for the security forces increased
nationalist hostility. In 1981, when Labour was in opposition, he visited the dying
hunger striker Bobby Sands to inform him that he would get no sympathy from
the British labour movement. Sands had been elected an MP while on hunger
strike, and Mason’s action alienated even Catholics unsympathetic to the IRA.
The Tories have been in office since 1979, under the leadership first of Margaret
Thatcher, and from 1990, John Major. They have pursued a more vigorous
search for a political solution, seeing a settlement as a precondition for economic
recovery. This accords with a favourite Thatcherite maxim, ‘you can’t solve a
problem by throwing money at it’. Thatcher’s relationship with Northern Ireland
was contradictory. Her brand of ‘two nations’ conservatism has much in common
with Unionism: she herself had a personal empathy with Unionists, who, like
her, are ‘conviction politicians’ (Gaffikin and Morrissey 1990:35). She
demonstrated her disdain for Irish nationalism when she rejected the proposals
from the New Ireland Forum,6 declaring in parliament ‘No, No, No’ to any
accommodation of nationalist demands. She nevertheless presided over the Anglo-
Irish Agreement in 1985, which Unionists saw as a historic betrayal of their
cause. The strategy of isolating Republicans from the nationalist community
had led the government to make a deal with the ‘Catholic nationalists’. The
government also came under pressure from the Irish-American lobby to take
more radical measures against religious discrimination. While dismantling the
powers of British local authorities to promote equality, it was forced to strengthen
fair employment legislation in Northern Ireland.
The political situation has also brought contradictions in economic and social

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policy. Unionist power was built on the use of the state apparatus to maintain
privilege, and the economic decline of the past two decades has reinforced
dependence on state subsidy. Conservative in social and political outlook,
Unionist politicians are united (often with nationalists) in demanding increased
public expenditure to shore up the economy. The strategy of containing dissent,
and undermining the credibility of critics of British rule, has narrowed the scope
for free market solutions.

Security policy
The dominant goal of British policy since the start of ‘the Troubles’ has been the
defeat of ‘terrorism’. The British state has portrayed the security forces as peace
keepers between two warring communities. In this it has been aided by a press
which is both heavily censored, and self-censoring in its coverage of the conflict
(Curtis 1984).
The reality is that security policy has not been, and cannot be, neutral between
the two communities. The political aim of the IRA is the destruction of the
Northern Ireland state and a united Ireland. Support in the Catholic community
for their campaign of violence has ebbed and flowed, and while only a minority
have ever actively engaged in violence, the level of passive support, particularly
at crucial periods such as internment and the hunger strikes, has been much
wider. Broader sections support the political aim of Republicanism, while rejecting
violence. At the time of the abolition of Stormont, which followed closely on
Bloody Sunday, there was mass alienation from the state.
The Catholic community became a suspect population. Between 1971 when
internment was introduced, and 1976, shortly after it ended, the army carried
out 250,000 house searches, the majority Catholic. Virtually every working-
class Catholic household was searched, many several times (Newsinger 1995:88).
The majority of army bases overlook Catholic areas, both in the cities and in
border areas. In the overwhelmingly nationalist Crossmaglen, for example, an
army base dominates the centre of the town. There is no visible Protestant threat
from which the population could conceivably need protection.
By contrast the Protestant population is overwhelmingly loyal to the Union.
Loyalist violence has been aimed almost entirely at Catholic civilians. While the
paramilitaries claim that their attacks have been aimed at Republicans, only a
small proportion of their victims have had any connection with Republicanism.
Most have been random sectarian killings, aimed at demoralising and terrorising
the whole Catholic community. Some of the more spectacular violence has been
aimed at people from the South, for example the bombing of a bus station in
Dublin in 1974, and the massacre of the Dublin-based Miami Showband as they
returned from a performance in the North in 1976. Irish newspapers produced
evidence that both incidents involved collusion from the security forces.
One striking illustration of security force partiality was their behaviour
during the Ulster Workers’ Council strike against the power-sharing Executive

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in 1974. Troops stood by as people going to work were intimidated, and

paramilitary groups set up road blocks with the apparent sanction of the security
forces (Boyd 1984). At a meeting with London trade unionists, a member of
the Belfast Trades Council described being repeatedly stopped by the Army
on her way to work, and told not to go down certain streets because loyalists
had put up barricades.7
Security policy has been dogged by the contradictions arising from the political
structures of Northern Ireland. Repression of the Catholic revolt brought mass
civil protest which necessitated concessions to win the Catholic population from
the IRA. But reform is seen by Unionists as appeasement, and a threat to the
very existence of Northern Ireland.
In the early stages of the Troubles, the army used counter-insurgency
measures, developed in colonial conflicts. These techniques are most closely
associated with Frank Kitson, who was British Army commander in Belfast.8
Northern Ireland, however, differs from Kenya and the other colonial struggles
in which Kitson learnt his trade. It is part of the United Kingdom, and repression
on the scale required to subdue the Catholic community was politically
impossible:
Instead of ‘a culture of fear’ that would have reduced the Catholic minority
to passivity, the army created a culture of antagonism that actually provoked
and sustained opposition and resistance.
(Newsinger 1995:8)
Repression was nevertheless intense, involving the use of techniques which were
to bring international condemnation. These included CS gas, plastic bullets,
intensive interrogation techniques (BSSRS 1974; Ackroyd et al. 1977). Virtually
every young man living in Catholic areas has been stopped and searched or
arrested. Women too have been subject to routine harassment on the streets,
and to physical and verbal sexual abuse. With the introduction of internment in
August 1971, hundreds of men—many unconnected with Republicanism—were
interned without trial. Women became increasingly active in organising
community resistance. Lily Fitzsimmons, now a Sinn Fein member of Belfast
City Council, described this activity:
The ‘Hen patrols’ came about because we used bin lids and whistles to
create a commotion once the Brit ‘Duck Patrols’ sneaked into the areas
late at night or in the early hours of the morning…we followed them
about everywhere they went…. It wore down their morale. They were
probably saying to themselves ‘what kind of women are these?’ All we
had to defend ourselves was a whistle while constantly looking down the
barrels of British guns.
(quoted in Sinn Fein 1994:10)
The campaign of civil disobedience provoked by internment led to a rent and
rate strike in Catholic areas. The Payment of Debt Act was rushed through,

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allowing benefits to be cut for those on strike. Social policy was here used explicitly
for security purposes, to undermine the impact of civil protest (BSSRS 1974).
This Act particularly affected women, many of whom were struggling to maintain
families on reduced incomes, after husbands or sons were imprisoned.
As more nationalist women were arrested and interned, both for civil resistance
and as a result of direct involvement with the IRA, new repressive measures
were developed specifically aimed at women. Forcible strip searching of Irish
women prisoners became routine in both British and Northern Irish jails.
Campaigners likened this practice to sexual abuse used to ‘humiliate, degrade
and control the women’ (Sinn Fein 1994:19). Women also commonly suffered
sexual assault while in custody. The Price sisters, jailed for the bombing of
London’s Old Bailey in 1973, embarked on a hunger strike to secure their transfer
to Northern Ireland which lasted for over 200 days. In treatment reminiscent of
that meted out to suffragettes at the beginning of the century, they were force-
fed in Brixton Prison, with plastic tubes painfully inserted down their throats
and into their stomachs.
The mid-1970s marked a significant change in security policy. The new
strategy, known as ‘Ulsterisation’, involved a lower profile for the British Army,
and reliance on internal policing. A paramilitary model of policing developed.
This has had implications for methods used by British police forces. James
Alderson, former chief constable of Devon and Cornwall, claimed in 1996 that
British policing had been ‘poisoned’ by methods used in Northern Ireland.9
The change of policy was intended to contain the revolt to ‘acceptable levels
of violence’. It had been relatively successful by the end of the 1970s, with the
number of deaths due to the conflict down from 297 in 1976 to 113 in 1979
(Newsinger 1995:90). A key aim of the new strategy was to defuse support for
the IRA both in Northern Ireland and abroad. It involved criminalisation of the
IRA, and the ‘normalisation’ of the conflict through presenting it as a problem
of policing rather than counter-insurgency. Internment without trial, which was
self-evidently a response to special circumstances, was abolished, and prisoners
put through the judicial process. The courts could not, however, be relied upon
to convict, and special no-jury courts—known as Diplock courts after the judge
who presided over them—were introduced. These relied heavily on confession
evidence, often extracted under duress involving both physical violence and
threats and inducements.
The other strand to this policy was removal of special category, or political,
status from republican and loyalist prisoners. This led to the hunger strikes of
the 1980s, and gave a massive boost to Sinn Fein’s popularity. As one by one
prisoners died agonizing deaths following weeks of starvation, Margaret Thatcher
refused any concession. Ten men were to die before the strike was called off.
Thatcher’s inflexibility rekindled alienation in the Catholic population. Bobby
Sands, the first hunger striker to die, was elected a Westminster MP from prison.
After his death, Owen Carron, his Sinn Fein election agent, was elected to replace
him with an increased majority. Thatcher retained her implacable opposition to

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nationalist demands, but the success of Sinn Fein’s new electoral strategy eventually
forced her to accept the Anglo-Irish Agreement in 1985.
The late 1980s saw a continuing reduction of street violence and security
force deaths. The IRA increasingly turned to spectacular economic targets,
particularly in Britain, including the huge bomb which brought the City of
London to a standstill in 1992. Sinn Fein’s electoral success waned after the hunger
strike, but it retained a solid minority of support in the Catholic community.
This was sustained by revelations of illegal security force operations, such as the
shoot to kill policy given widespread publicity by the Stalker Inquiry.10 The
release of the Guildford Four, the Birmingham Six, and Judith Ward in the
1990s highlighted the inadequacies of the British judicial system in dealing with
Irish people. All had served well over a decade in jail for bombings which, it was
widely known, they did not commit. The cases against them involved forced
confessions and fabricated evidence.11
In the early 1990s, both the IRA and the British Government renewed efforts
to secure a cessation of violence, which finally brought about the IRA ceasefire
of 1994. The IRA had long recognised that they could not win a united Ireland
militarily. The search for peace was given added urgency by a spate of brutal
loyalist attacks which caused fear and demoralisation in Catholic areas. The
British Government recognised that it too could not win militarily, and in trying
to win Catholics from the IRA had been forced into greater concessions—including
increasing emphasis on community relations and ‘parity of esteem’.

The response to the ceasefires

The announcement of a ceasefire by the IRA in August 1994 was greeted with
joy and relief in nationalist areas. Not only did it promise an end to twenty-five
years of violence, it also appeared to open up the possibility of a real and lasting
settlement in Ireland. This joy was not, however, reflected in the response of the
British Government or official Unionism. The IRA’s declaration was treated
with distrust and hostility, almost as if the cessation of violence were itself a
provocative act. This suspicious and grudging approach has characterised
mainstream Unionist and British Government actions throughout the ‘peace
process’. The loyalist paramilitaries, on the other hand, called their own ceasefire
six weeks after the IRA, and the political parties associated with them declared
themselves ready to enter all-party talks. In spite of the willingness of the ‘extremes’
(Republican and loyalist) to engage in dialogue, and the popular demand across
Ireland for negotiations, official multi-party talks did not begin until June 1996,
almost two years after the ceasefires. These excluded Sinn Fein, which had resumed
its bombing campaign in February 1996.
The ceasefires brought an opening up of Northern Ireland society, with cross-
community and cross-border initiatives given a major impetus. The immediate
aftermath was a period of excitement and possibility, as a spate of conferences
and seminars initiated discussion, and people started, often for the first time, to

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think about agendas for a new Ireland. Women’s groups were prominent in
these discussions, attempting to widen debates beyond the narrow confines of
traditional politics.
This enthusiasm gradually ebbed away as the British Government placed
more and more obstacles in the way of all-party talks and the ‘peace process’
moved towards apparent stalemate. Whatever concessions were promised to the
IRA before they called their ceasefire,12 the government’s response appeared to
be aimed at conceding ‘as little as possible without placing the ceasefire in serious
jeopardy’ (Newsinger 1995:94). The ending of the IRA ceasefire after seventeen
months was seen by many as an inevitable, through disastrous, conclusion. The
British Government and the unionists had insisted on gaining control over the
process, and minimising international involvement and mediation. The peace
was gradually redefined as simply the absence of violence (O’Dowd 1996:1),
thereby destroying any momentum or sense of a peace ‘process’.
The British Government’s response to the opportunity opened up by the
ceasefires was extraordinarily limited. The delay in bringing about all-party
talks was in marked contrast to other situations of conflict resolution.13 The
imposition of a three-month ‘decontamination’ period before it would enter into
preliminary talks with republicans, was an attempt to portray the ceasefire as a
surrender. This was followed by an insistence on decommissioning of weapons
as a precondition to talks. The Mitchell Commission, established in late 1995 to
seek a way through the impasse, proposed that talks should begin in parallel
with decommissioning. When the Mitchell report was accepted by Sinn Fein, the
government imposed the further delay of an election. Rather than proceed with
talks which could have begun to develop trust and improve the chances of a
permanent ceasefire, this approach allowed and encouraged the maximum level
of distrust to develop among unionists. While unionist suspicions were fuelled,
they were allowed a virtual veto on any new proposal.
The government’s agenda has been extremely narrow. After several months,
army patrols were removed from the streets, and some troops withdrawn. There
has been, however, little recognition of the continuing human rights issues and
the need to create a new framework of citizenship rights. The Prevention of
Terrorism Act, which permits major abuses of civil rights, was renewed in 1995.
In 1996, following the breakdown of the IRA ceasefire, its powers were further
extended. There has been limited movement towards the early release of
prisoners, an issue which is central to any peace process (O’Dowd 1996). A
number of political prisoners remain in both Britain and Northern Ireland who
claim to be victims of miscarriages of justice.
The social and economic programme has been similarly limited. The
opportunities for a ‘peace dividend’ have been viewed in narrow terms, with
saving on security seen largely as a means to cut cash allocation from the
government. Resources for new developments have been sought from external
sources, primarily the European Union and the United States.
The British Government’s minimalist response to the ceasefires in part

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represents poverty of political vision, and to a significant degree the fragility of

the Conservative Party’s parliamentary majority which makes it reliant on
Unionist support. More profoundly, it reflects the ambiguity at the heart of its
Northern Ireland policy. On the one hand, it has attempted to play ‘honest
broker’, with ‘no selfish strategic interest’ in the present constitutional
arrangements. On the other hand, it has been unable to tackle the institutions
which are central to the maintenance of the Union.

ECONOMIC POLICY
During more than twenty years of Direct Rule, the Northern Ireland economy
has undergone a dramatic decline. In the early 1970s, manufacturing output
expanded more rapidly than in Britain, as state policy to attract multinational
investment proved successful. By the 1990s, new inward investment had all but
dried up, while more than half the branch plants established in the 1960s had
closed. The economy is increasingly dependent on both public employment and
state support to maintain private employment:
It would be little exaggeration to describe Northern Ireland in the late
1980s as a workhouse economy. A large part of its population is
unemployed. Those who are not are chiefly engaged in servicing or
controlling each other.
(Rowthorn and Wayne 1988:98)
Changes in the way data is collected and the categories used prevent
straightforward comparison of economic indicators (Gaffikin and Morrissey
1990:47). Employment statistics are notoriously problematic, tending to
underestimate unemployment, particularly of women. The Unemployment Unit’s
figures, for example, suggest that the real level of unemployment is approximately
30 per cent higher than the official rate (ibid.: 58). In spite of these limitations,
published figures give some indication of the extent of the problems facing the
economy. Northern Ireland’s Gross Domestic Product (GDP) was 81.6 per cent
of the UK average in 1993—the lowest of any UK region (CSO 1996). Low
GDP is a result both of low productivity, and the small proportion of the
population in work. The dependency ratio is higher, while Northern Ireland has
the highest proportion in the UK of people of working age outside the labour
force—through low labour force participation and high unemployment (Gudgin
and Roper 1990). Unemployment has remained consistently at least two
percentage points above the next highest UK region, the North of England
(CSO 1996).
Poor economic performance is matched by low living standards. Income per
capita was the lowest in the UK until 1991, when Wales joined Northern Ireland
at the bottom of the league. Both had an average personal income of 84.1 per
cent of UK average in 1992. Women’s average hourly earnings (full-time
employees) were 91.6 per cent of the British level, and men’s 86.1 per cent in

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1994 (EOCNI 1995:23). According to the Low Pay Unit’s definition, 40 per
cent of women full-time workers were low paid in 1994 (ibid.: 22).
The causes of economic decline do not lie solely within Northern Ireland.
The world economy suffered severe recession in the 1970s, precipitated by the
oil price rise of 1973. Underlying the immediate crisis was the exhaustion of the
post-war expansion based on the post-war consensus around Keynesian demand
management and welfare policies. Substantial restructuring and
internationalisation of production took place during the 1970s. Northern Ireland
faced stronger competition for new investment from newly industrialising
countries (NICs) and the new branch plants established in the 1960s were
vulnerable to closure. While some NICs developed a strong industrial base
through strategic state intervention (Amsden 1990), Northern Ireland’s industrial
policy was largely confined to providing grants and subsidies for private capital.
With European integration, the problems of Northern Ireland’s position as a
peripheral region of a peripheral state have intensified.
Globalisation of production has been accompanied by a convergence of
economic policy in Europe and a substantial rightward political shift, as the
material basis for the post-war social democratic ‘one nation’ consensus crumbled.
In Britain, economic liberalism has been combined with authoritarianism (Gamble
1988) and explicit anti-feminism (ten Tusscher 1986). The British social
democratic consensus was never inclusive in reality Women’s dependence on a
male breadwinner was assumed in the structures of benefit and family policy,
while black people and other ethnic minorities faced exclusion in welfare and
the labour market (Williams 1989). Social and demographic changes in the
post-war years have undermined the male-breadwinner model, as women
(including married women) entered paid employment in steadily increasing
numbers. Labour market deregulation has exacerbated women’s marginal
position in the labour market (Bennington and Taylor 1993:124), while the
privatisation of social reproduction and increased reliance on the ‘community’
has extended women’s caring responsibilities.
In Northern Ireland an explicit ‘two nations’ ideology was dominant under
Stormont, which denied social and political rights to Catholics. The attempt
under Unionist rule to replace traditional industry with new Fordist production
recreated sectarian working practices in new forms, while Catholics remained
excluded from full citizenship. When elements of formal social democracy were
imposed with Direct Rule, the economic basis on which it might have survived
was already disappearing.
‘The Troubles’ and economic crisis have made it politically impossible to
implement the full rigours of the neoliberal agenda. Northern Ireland was spared
Thatcher’s ‘flagship policy’ of the Poll Tax, and higher levels of public spending
have been maintained. Public spending cuts and deregulation have nevertheless
been introduced since the mid-1980s, widening economic inequalities.
Unemployment and underemployment have increased as full-time jobs have
been lost. While the burden of care of dependants is increasingly shifted onto

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family members (primarily women), these policies have also underpinned an

expansion of women’s part-time employment which is facilitated by the
restructuring of production processes and the development of ‘flexible’ work
practices. The expanding services sector has produced a demand for a new
casualised, insecure, primarily female, workforce.
These disparities inevitably reflect continuing structural divisions based on
class, gender and religion. Overall Catholic disadvantage remains, but divisions
within each community are increasing. Incomes have expanded for those (men
and women) in secure full-time employment, including a burgeoning Catholic
middle class, while the Protestant working class is experiencing unprecedented
hardship as traditional employment opportunities disappear.

Industrial policy
Traditional industry has declined continuously since the 1950s. By 1990,
employment in the three main sectors was less than a quarter of its 1950 level.
This has hit the traditional Protestant male sectors of shipbuilding and
engineering, but also the female-dominated textile industry. Employment in the
garment industry, with a predominantly female workforce, stabilised in the 1980s.
The period saw the rise and fall of ‘non-traditional’ manufacturing. Employment
rose by nearly 50 per cent up to 1970, but in the subsequent two decades fell by
30 per cent. It was when this sector went into decline that total manufacturing
employment started to collapse (Table 4.1). The collapse in manufacturing

Table 4.1 Employment in manufacturing (selected industries) (thousands), 1950–90

Source: adapted from NIEC July 1991a:11

‘involved the very heart of the modern branch plant sector’ (Fothergill and Guy
1990:6). Their study of branch closures suggested that Northern Ireland’s
peripherality was the major factor. Branch plants are marginal to most companies,
and are the first to close in a recession. The plants which shut down were large
in Northern Ireland terms, but their links with the local economy were
underdeveloped.
Industrial development policy has been based primarily on subsidies to private

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industry. The Industrial Development Board (IDB) took responsibility for

implementing policy in 1983, with the Local Enterprise Development Unit
(LEDU) responsible for small companies. The level of state support has been
greater than in any other UK region. Private firms have been provided with
grants and infrastructure, but are largely unconstrained by intervention aimed
at wider planning goals. The approach is characterised by ‘unqualified faith in
the private sector, and the ability of the market, to rescue the economy’ (Morrissey
and Gaffikin 1987:47).
A study of the relation between unemployment and the location of industry
(N I EC 1990a) showed that employment creation was not targeted at
unemployment blackspots. Belfast, with almost a quarter of Northern Ireland’s
unemployment in 1988, received only 15.2 per cent of jobs created. Of 180
external companies given aid between 1946 and 1980, three were located in
predominantly Catholic West Belfast, which has the highest unemployment;
only one, Ford Motor Company, remains.
By the 1970s, in response to mounting economic crisis, the Labour
Government applied expansionary policies, and public employment replaced
manufacturing jobs. Industrial subsidies were increasingly used to maintain
existing jobs rather than create new ones. This policy culminated in the
nationalisation of the two major private sector employers, strongholds of the
Protestant skilled male workforce—Harland and Wolff and Short Brothers.
Industrial policy under the Conservative administration remained essentially
the same, but new Enterprise Zones were introduced in the 1980s aimed at
attracting private firms through increased grants and tax exemption. This policy
represented a less significant change of strategy in Northern Ireland than it did
in Britain. Since Direct Rule, economic policy had been directly administered
by central government, with little local accountability. Local politicians tended
to confine themselves to struggles over the location of jobs, rather than disputing
the policies themselves.
By the late 1980s, industrial policy was widely criticised, as the cost of creating
and maintaining jobs soared (Gudgin and Roper 1990; NIEC 1990a and 1992).
Between 1986–87 and 1991–92, the average cost of jobs promoted by the IDB
through inward investment was £20,344, almost double the average male earnings
(NIEC 1992:53). The Pathfinder Process initiated by the Department of
Economic Development (DED) was intended to develop a more targeted
approach to industrial policy. The goal of job creation was replaced by ‘creating
competitiveness’. But in spite of the new vocabulary of the enterprise culture
there was little apparent change of strategy. In September 1996, a Hong Kong-
based firm, Benelux, announced the closure of its Northern Ireland plant after
only two years. The firm had received grants through the IDB of £10 million—
a massive £45,000 for each job created.14 One significant change has been the
privatisation of the companies nationalised under Labour at a cost to the taxpayer
of £1.5 billion (NIEC 1991a: 18), while utilities such as electricity and
telecommunications are now in private hands.

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Private services
As manufacturing declined, services became increasingly important, accounting
for over half of private employment by 1988 compared to just over 40 per cent in
1979 (NIEC 1990b: 8). The fastest growing areas were hotel and catering, business
services and ‘other services’. Banking and insurance and retailing grew more slowly
In spite of increasing dependence on service employment, performance has been
weak relative to Britain, particularly in business services and in banking and
insurance (ibid.: 20). Service employment, particularly business and financial
services, is ultimately dependent on productive activity in the local economy
The growing number of two-income households, together with low house
prices relative to British levels means that a large proportion of the population
have high disposable incomes. During the boom conditions of the late 1980s
when expansionary monetary policies led to increased consumer spending,
income increased dramatically for this group, and with it demand for consumer
goods and services. This helped bring about the regeneration of Belfast City
Centre which has been central to government strategy during the past decade.
The jobs created were mainly female, generally part-time, insecure and low
paid. The process therefore fuelled increasing inequalities between women in
secure, full-time employment and those unemployed or in part-time work.

Urban planning in Belfast

Belfast’s commercial life ebbed away during the 1970s. Between 1969 and 1977,
300 shops and offices were bombed, with the loss of 25 per cent of city centre
retail space (McDonagh 1992). Population and incomes fell as local industry
declined, and manufacturing employment relocated to new growth centres outside
Belfast. Retailing moved outside the centre, as supermarkets were built in the
outskirts, and Belfast’s social life concentrated in the ghettos, or for the more
prosperous, the suburbs.
The creation of the Belfast Enterprise Zone in 1981 marked a shift in official
policy. The renaissance of Belfast city centre in the 1980s was part of a planned
‘return to normality’. Investment was ploughed in to revitalise the retail core,
while the refurbishment of the Grand Opera House marked its development as
an entertainment centre: in the official slogan ‘Belfast is Buzzing’. The driving
force was the attraction of foreign capital. The planners aimed to
cultivate neutral post-modernist images and spaces, which dilute the
backward-looking symbolism all too evident in the present. The plan is
thus, inescapably, part and parcel of British management of the Northern
Ireland conflict.
(Greer and Neill 1991:90)
An urban motorway serves as a ‘moat’ (ibid.: 102) cutting off the city centre
from the neighbouring ghettos of the Falls and the Shankill. The expanse of

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open ground around the motorway made it difficult for the IRA to disappear
into Catholic areas after planting bombs in the city centre. Except during the
ceasefires, a security check has been permanently stationed at the entrances to
the city centre. The brightness of the city centre is in stark contrast to the gloom
of the narrow streets off the Falls Road, where lighting is kept deliberately low
to allow soldiers to move about unseen (McDonagh 1992).
Outside the neutral space of the city centre, the symbols of territoriality remain.
Paving stones are painted in green, white and orange, or red, white and blue,
and corresponding slogans adorn the walls in Irish or English. These represent
not merely symbolic alienation from the carefully contrived management of the
centre. Massive unemployment reflects a level of economic deprivation greater
than any British city. West Belfast lost 9,400 manufacturing jobs between 1976
and 1987 (Rolston and Tomlinson 1988:83).
A new programme, ‘Making Belfast Work’, was announced in 1988, but the
funding is dwarfed by the spending to support private investment in the city
centre. A total of £72.5 million was spent in the first four years (MBW 1994),
but schemes of this size have limited impact on areas where unemployment is so
deeply rooted, and where at the same time, other government policies are
sharpening economic and social problems. A study of deprivation in Belfast
based on Census data for 1971, 1981 and 1991 found that unemployment had
progressively and disproportionately increased in the wards ranked highest in
each period; and that levels of deprivation typical of inner-city areas are now
also found in outer-city areas (PAIP 1993:12).

Public sector employment

With Direct Rule, the link between local tax revenue and public expenditure
was broken. Spending was based on an estimate of need, using British standards
(Canning et al. 1987:225). During the 1970s, public expenditure per capita rose
both absolutely and relative to British levels, as Northern Ireland caught up
with British levels of provision. Taking into account the costs of peripheral location
and ‘security’, public spending was marginally above British levels in the late
1980s (Gaffikin and Morrissey 1990:80). Northern Ireland’s share of UK public
expenditure fell in the early 1990s (NIEC 1992:3).
Public sector employment rose from 21.6 per cent of the total in 1960 to 43.7
per cent in 1988 (NIEC 1990b: 7). Private sector employment accounted for
two out of three jobs in Britain, compared to only 56 per cent in Northern
Ireland (N I EC 1990b: 15). The share of health, education and public
administration in total employment rose rapidly after Direct Rule—from 25 per
cent in 1971 to over 38 per cent by 1983—more than double its 1951 share. With
the squeeze on public expenditure in the 1980s, public employment also fell.
Between 1983 and 1990, 8,708 jobs were lost, almost all of them male. Most of
the decline came in health and education, while employment in the prison and
police services continued to rise.

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While public employment has fallen, public expenditure has risen to support
private employment. Half of public spending goes on transfer payments and
social spending. The public sector deficit (the ‘subvention’) was estimated at
approximately 25 per cent of GDP in 1987 (Gudgin and Roper 1990). This
exceeds the regional imbalance in production of goods and services, due to a
capital outflow in the form of pension funds, company profits, estimated as
approximately 5 per cent of GDP (ibid.). The subvention increased further in
the 1990s. Smyth estimated it as nearly £2.5 billion in 1992; or more than £3
billion if the costs of maintaining ‘law and order’ are added, representing £2,000
per head (Smyth 1993:134).
The sectoral shares of public spending and the distribution of public sector
employment have been shaped by sectarian and gender divisions. There are
specifically ‘Catholic women’s jobs’ in the state sector (such as nursing), and
‘Protestant men’s jobs’ (security services). The gender and religious distribution
of employment is discussed in detail in Chapter 6.

Economic policy and ‘the Troubles’

The violence which continued for over twenty years clearly played a part in
economic decline, though quantifying its effects is not straightforward. Jobs have
been lost directly and indirectly, due to bombing of premises; plant closure
where the political situation was a factor in the decision to close; and—even
more difficult to estimate—through loss of potential investment deterred by
violence. The major job losses came in the 1970s (NIEC 1992b). Canning et al.
(1987:211) suggest that ‘the Troubles’ were responsible for the loss of 40,000
manufacturing jobs between 1971 and 1983, but argue that the economic impact
of the Troubles was not wholly negative, since they also induced an expansion
of public employment. Rowthorn and Wayne (1988) make a similar estimate
for manufacturing jobs lost, but view the weakening of the industrial sector as a
serious problem, and the present conflict as ‘one of the greatest obstacles to a
sustained economic recovery’ (ibid.: 121).
While the economy has been affected by political violence, the aim of ‘defeating
terrorism’ has been a component in the construction of economic policy. In the
1970s, particularly in the Mason period, economists and planners blamed ‘the
Troubles’ for economic decline. A change of emphasis emerged in the 1980s, as
they were ‘redefined as a problem of perception and business confidence’
(O’Dowd and Rolston 1985:219). The development of the Belfast Enterprise
Zone, and the Belfast Urban Plan were largely driven by the need to purvey a
different image, in order to attract business.
The new emphasis on encouraging local enterprise was associated with
greater politicisation of job discrimination. Local groups such as Obair and
the West Belfast Economic Forum have been running more sophisticated
campaigns for jobs in mainly nationalist West Belfast. This brought some
targeting of employment creation and training programmes in these areas.

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The government has been keen to exclude potential critics from these new
projects. Richard Needham, Economic Minister at the Northern Ireland Office,
made this clear in 1989:
It has to be in our interests…for us to try to get more jobs in West Belfast
…that is the way in which we will reduce the terrorist menace, by making
people economically independent from terrorism. That is the prime strategic
objective of the government.15
Groups or individuals thought to have connections with paramilitary groups,
particularly republican, have been marginalised. Political vetting has removed
funding from suspect groups, or closed them down. Douglas Hurd, speaking in
1985 as Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, said:
there are cases in which some community groups, or persons prominent
in the direction or management of some community groups, have
sufficiently close links with paramilitary organisations to give rise to a
grave risk that to give support to those groups would have the effect of
improving the standing and furthering the aims of a paramilitary
organisation, whether directly or indirectly. I do not consider that any
such use of government funds would be in the public interest, and in any
particular case in which I am satisfied that these conditions prevail, no
grant will be paid.
(quoted in Obair 1990:1)
As this comment suggests, ‘links with paramilitary organisations’ can be
interpreted extremely broadly The Catholic Church has proved a valuable ally
in the government’s attempt to isolate republicanism, and has been given a major
role in providing training schemes (ibid.: 13).
Economic policy in the 1990s has been increasingly aimed at promoting the
politics of ‘normalisation’ (Shirlow and McGovern, 1995:6). This has brought
attempts to restructure class and community alliances, by incorporating the rising
Catholic middle classes into a new consensus, while at the same time de-
politicising the marginalised working class in both communities (ibid.).
Another development has been the promotion of economic links with the
more vibrant Southern economy. The Chairman of the Ulster Bank, in a
speech to business people from both sides of the border, suggested that
significant progress had been made in transport and communications to
facilitate g rowing cross-b order trade, and argued for increased
intergovernment support for private initiatives. But he stressed that ‘making
a reality of the island economy is dependent on there being no political
agendas, overt or hidden’.16 European integration and the development of
the Single Market has intensified the discussion of a cross-border economy.
The move towards free movement of goods and people guaranteed by the
Single European Act and the Maastricht Treaty has been accompanied by
extensive militarisation of the border area:

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South Armagh, in particular, has experienced a small-scale ‘Vietnamisation’,

with the British army establishing a strategic chain of hill forts serviced
several times daily by helicopters flying in formations of three or four.
(Tomlinson 1995:4)

Some commentators have claimed that the issue of the border will become
irrelevant in the wider moves to European integration (e.g. Teague 1993). These
processes have actually tended to sharpen the question of national sovereignty
and the border (Tomlinson 1995:3).

EQUAL OPPORTUNITIES LEGISLATION

The nature of the political divide in Northern Ireland has made legislation to
outlaw discrimination on religious grounds one of the more contentious areas of
public policy. While there has been tacit agreement between local politicians on
much of the social and economic agenda, fair employment has been seen by
unionist politicians as a threat to the very basis of Northern Ireland. The first
legislation was not implemented until four years after Direct Rule, and was
deeply flawed and ineffective. The government was slow to respond to critics,
and it took external pressure, particularly from the powerful Irish lobby in North
America, to force it to amend the legislation in 1989. Gender equality has had a
much lower profile in public debate. While fair employment legislation is specific
to Northern Ireland, sex equality law has been introduced as part of United
Kingdom-wide legislation. Litigation has, however, been pursued more vigorously
by the Equal Opportunities Commission for Northern Ireland, EOCNI, than
by its sister organisation in Britain, and it has played a more pro-active role in
publicising equality issues.
With the overthrow of Stormont in 1972, most British politicians assumed
that under a ‘neutral’ administration independent of the sectarian structures of
the Unionist state, religious discrimination would disappear. The social
democratic foundations of British public policy in that period were ill-equipped
to deal with the Northern Ireland situation. Social democracy presumes a basic
consensus which gives legitimacy to state policy—a consensus conspicuously
lacking in Northern Ireland.
The profound ignorance of Northern Ireland among British politicians led
them to underestimate the depth of sectarian division. The Cameron Commission
established in 1969 to investigate the causes of civil unrest had accepted that
discrimination against Catholics in jobs and housing ‘had substantial foundation
in fact and were in a very real sense an immediate and operative cause of the
demonstrations and consequent disorders’ (cited in McCormack and O’Hara
1990:1), but subsequent legislation was a response to the perception rather than
the reality of that discrimination (ibid.: 1). The view prevailed that special
institutions would be necessary as a temporary measure to deal with the legacy
of unionism, but in the long run the neutral technocracy would ensure that

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sectarianism was eradicated. These hopes proved illusory. The Catholic/

Protestant unemployment differential—a key indicator of disadvantage—remained
as high in the mid-1980s as it had been in the early 1970s, and has been only
marginally reduced in the 1990s.
Separate legislation exists on religious and sex discrimination, with separate
statutory bodies, the Equal Opportunities Commission for Northern Ireland
(EOCNI) and the Fair Employment Commission (FEC) (formerly the Fair
Employment Agency (FEA)). The British Sex Discrimination Act was imported
to Northern Ireland in 1976. The Race Relations Act does not apply in Northern
Ireland, and the small but growing black and ethnic minority population has no
specific protection in law.17
Until the Fair Employment Act of 1989, powers in relation to religious
discrimination were weaker than those on sex discrimination. The 1989 Act
gave the Fair Employment Commission considerably greater powers than those
of the EOCNI. The government has been reluctant to discuss extending these
powers to other areas, or ‘over the water’ (Cormack and Osborne 1983),
preferring to ‘confine the measures and depict them as of relevance only to
Northern Ireland’s “special” problems of sectarianism’ (Maxwell 1991:91).

Fair employment legislation

The first anti-discrimination legislation was enacted with the foundation of the
Northern Ireland state. Section 5 of the Government of Ireland Act 1920 provided
that Parliament could not legislate
either directly or indirectly to establish or endow any religion or prohibit
or restrict the free exercise or give a preference, privilege or advantage, or
impose any disability or disadvantage on account of religious belief or
religious or ecclesiastical status.
(SACHR 1987:8)
The formal position made little difference to the way the state operated in practice.
This article remained virtually a dead letter, invoked only once, in 1929. The
British Government refused to respond to complaints against the Stormont
authorities, and did nothing to ensure that the principle was adhered to. It was
only when the civil rights movement developed into a mass campaign of civil
resistance, gaining international attention, that the government was forced to
intervene.
Action was promised on public employment; incitement to hatred; fairness in
public housing; redress against public bodies; and electoral reform. This brought
a series of reforms18 both before and after Direct Rule. The Fair Employment
Act of 1976 was the first to deal specifically with employment. A working party
to prepare proposals to tackle discrimination was established in 1972, chaired by
employment minister William Van Straubenzee. Its report expressed no view on
the reality or extent of discrimination, declaring that it was not its function ‘to

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pass judgement upon what may or may not have happened in employment
practices in the past’ (cited in Cormack and Osborne 1983:18). The Committee
believed some legal machinery was necessary to outlaw discrimination, and to
support equal opportunities policy. It proposed that discrimination should be
dealt with primarily on an individual basis through the civil courts. Influenced
by US experience, it proposed positive action to increase Catholic representation
in employment, but opposed all forms of quotas—describing them as ‘immoral’.
In attempting to provide a blueprint for equality ‘which apportioned no blame
and to which no fair-minded person could object’ (ibid.: 24), these
recommendations were ill-suited to the challenge of structural sectarianism. Most
of the committee’s recommendations were incorporated into the Fair Employment
Act, and its scope was extended to include the public sector.

The 1967 Fair Employment Act

The main provisions of the Act included:
1 Establishment of a Fair Employment Agency (FEA) under the Department
of Economic Development, with a predicted annual budget of £280,000 and
a staff of forty.
2 Prohibition of ‘unlawful discrimination’ in employment. Individual complaints
to be investigated and adjudicated by the FEA.
3 The FEA was empowered to carry out investigations of employment practices
of individual employers, and to recommend affirmative action.
4 The FEA was required to promote equality of opportunity, through a Guide
to Manpower Policy issued by the Department of Economic Development
(DED), and a voluntary ‘Declaration of Principle and Intent’.
5 Exemptions were made for large groups of employees, including clergymen,
teachers, and the security services. Other employers could apply for exemption
on ‘security’ grounds.
The establishment of the Fair Employment Agency relieved the British
Government of direct responsibility for tackling discrimination (Sheehan
1995:73). The FEA had few friends in Northern Ireland. Unionist politicians
expressed varying degrees of hostility, and only ten of the twenty-six District
Councils had publicly declared support for the principle of equal opportunities
by 1988. Nationalist politicians, including those on the constitutional wing, were
sceptical of its possible effectiveness. Among those who both wanted the legislation
to work, and believed it possible, were severe critics of the Act, and of the FEA.
Christopher McCrudden, who carried out an inquiry into the staffing and
administration of the FEA after internal complaints, concluded that it presented
‘a depressing picture of a massive task, of the possibility of change, but of an
Agency which has failed to meet that challenge’ (McCrudden 1983:220).
A Standing Advisory Commission on Human Rights (SACHR) had been
established in 1973 to advise the Secretary of State on the law on religious

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discrimination. In 1985, in response to mounting evidence of the failure of reform,

the Commission informed the Secretary of State of its intention to review the
adequacy and effectiveness of existing laws and institutions. SACH R
commissioned a study from an independent research body, the Policy Studies
Institute (PSI), on the extent of inequality. The report, based on official labour
market figures and a new survey of workplace practices, pointed to continuing
major inequalities on the basis of religion. SACHR’s own report detailed a series
of criticisms of the legislation and the operation of the FEA, and made 123
detailed recommendations. Concern centred on the following areas.

A lack of strategic direction and administrative control

A striking failure was that the Agency never developed to the size envisaged in
the Act. The initial budget in 1977 was only £81,000 (less than a third of the
expected level), and did not exceed the original estimate in money terms until
ten years later. The FEA’s response to criticism was apologetic: rather than fight
for increased spending by promoting the importance of its work, it defended
itself from Unionist attack on the grounds that it did not cost very much anyway.
McCrudden commented that the Agency’s leadership appeared to believe ‘that
there are severe limitations to what can be done to increase equality of opportunity
in a situation of economic decline’ (McCrudden 1983:218).
The Agency was also criticised for lacking a clear set of goals and timetables.
It refused to adopt the numerical goals recommended by the Van Straubenzee
Committee. SACHR points to a lack of clarity in the criteria used to decide
whether to launch company investigations. This resulted in part from the staffs
own lack of experience of working in an equal opportunities framework, which
was so alien to the predominant culture in the Northern Ireland labour market.
In the 1980s, the number of investigations and the range of issues taken up
increased. Reports were produced more quickly and became publicly available.
A number of more general research reports were commissioned which provide
valuable evidence of the extent and patterns of disadvantage.

Failure to pursue individual complaints effectively

In the FEA’s first four years, only 216 complaints were received. By the end of
March 1981, it had made ten findings of discrimination (McCrudden 1983). Of
605 investigations between 1976 and 1988, 52 (8.6 per cent) were upheld. The
county court was reluctant to support even this tiny number of complaints. Of
twenty cases decided by May 1988, the FEA’s finding was overturned in nine
appeals by the respondent, but only one where the complainant appealed. The
FEA’s finding was upheld in five appeals by the complainant, and five by the
respondent (McCormack and O’Hara 1990:30).
Much of the responsibility for this uninspiring record lies in the limitations of
the legislation. As in sex discrimination cases, the individual nature of the

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complaints procedure places the burden of proof on the complainant, imposing

a heavy cost on him in terms of time and emotional energy. The legislation was
ill-equipped to deal with structural sectarianism which may not depend on
individual acts of discrimination. It was not sufficient to show that a better
qualified person had been turned down for a job: actual intention to discriminate
had to be proved. The Act did not make indirect discrimination19 illegal, so
underrepresentation of Catholics in a workplace could not be used as evidence
of discrimination. The ‘chill factor’ prevents people applying for jobs in certain
areas or firms. As Robert Cooper, the FEA’s chair, explained, the bulk of
complaints ‘come not from the areas of employment where the grossest imbalances
take place but from areas where both communities have access to employment’
(cited in Booth and Bertsch 1989:38).
Respondents were guaranteed anonymity even if found guilty of
discrimination. This seriously weakened the pressure that the FEA could place
on employers. Many involved in sex discrimination cases have seen the main
benefit from litigation as the indirect effect in pressurising employers to improve
practices (Maxwell 1991:75).20

Preference for persuasion rather than for using the full range of legal remedies
Members of the Fair Employment Agency were appointed by ministers, and
were generally establishment figures who are ‘inclined to move in the same
ideological and political (not to mention social) space as many of the respondents
with whom they deal’ (Rolston 1983:212). Their natural inclination is to smooth
things over and come to agreement, rather than become involved in formal legal
proceedings. One appointee who did challenge the cosy atmosphere in which
the Agency worked was Inez McCormack, regional officer of the trade union
NUPE (now UNISON) who resigned from the FEA board in the early 1980s.
There was, particularly in the early days, a marked distaste for publicising
the results of investigations. This approach was justified by the Chairman on
the grounds that the cooperation of employers was necessary to help them develop
better practices, since the legislation provided little power of enforcement (SACHR
1987:122). Proceeding from an approach which lacked clear goals and targets,
however, this was open to abuse.

The FEA bowed to pressure from local and British politicians

While complaining about the FEA’s alleged anti-Protestant bias, unionist
politicians were quick to demand that it investigate complaints by Protestants
against Catholic employers. So fearful was the FEA of accusations of anti-
Unionist bias, that unionist politicians were sometimes allowed to interfere in
investigations to an extraordinary degree. When Ian Paisley, the Democratic
Unionist Party leader, passed on an anonymous complaint against a small
Catholic firm, government ministers demanded an inquiry, which was carried

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out personally by the FEA Chair. Normal procedures were breached, with a
copy of the report sent to Paisley before the Agency board had seen it (Graham
1984:46–7).
Intervention by Unionists may be expected; more worrying is interference by
government ministers in whose name the FEA was supposed to work. Far from
supporting the FEA, government ministers frequently undermined its work,
giving little public support to anti-discrimination measures. There have been
well-documented cases of ministerial attempts—under Labour and Conservative
administrations—to block investigations in both public and private sectors. The
FEA delayed an investigation of the Northern Ireland Civil Service (NICS) at
the request of the Minister, Hugh Rossi (SACHR 1987:116). A major concern
of ministers in relation to the private sector appears to have been the image
projected overseas. Fear of offending actual or potential investors lay behind
attempts by the Department of Manpower Services to block investigations into
Ford and Short Brothers in 1979 (McCrudden 1983). This conflict between
‘business objectives’ and the goal of fair employment illustrates the limits of
equal opportunities legislation within a market system.
Ministerial intervention also demonstrated the contradiction at the heart of
state policy in Northern Ireland, between an avowed neutrality towards the two
communities, and a security policy which made the Catholic community a
‘suspect population’. The rhetoric of fairness and equality, and the individual
nature of the legislation, left structural inequalities of power in place. The
exemption of the security forces from the Act’s provisions left the repressive
apparatus in the hands of one community. The ‘security exemption’ also allowed
ministers to prevent potentially embarrassing investigations, and to condone
discrimination on the grounds that employment of Catholics in sensitive areas
might breach national security.

Pressure for change

In 1986, a DED consultative paper officially acknowledged the religious
differential in unemployment for the first time. The SACHR report added weight
to pressure for strengthened legislation. Most commentators agree that a crucial
factor in initiating an evaluation of existing law was international pressure,
especially from the United States. The politics of shareholder pressure is well
established in the United States. The powerful Irish lobby had been campaigning
since the late 1970s to pressurise firms investing in Northern Ireland to tackle
discrimination. In 1984, Shorts was a leading bidder for a US Government
defence contract. A campaign was launched to prevent the company being
awarded the contract because of its history of discrimination. When Shorts won
the contract, it was conditional on the implementation of an equal opportunities
programme (Booth and Bertsch 1989:5).
The campaign focused around the MacBride Principles, a set of anti-
discrimination practices modelled on the Sullivan Principles developed in relation

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to South Africa. They called for positive action to improve the representation of
the minority community, but not for targets, or quotas. The MacBride Principles
took the name of their chief sponsor, Seán MacBride, 21 a former U N
Commissioner and Irish government minister; winner of both the Nobel and
Lenin Peace Prizes; and founder of Amnesty International. The son of Maud
Gonne MacBride, a leading figure in the Easter Rising, he was also Chief of
Staff of the IRA during the 1940s. His international standing gave credibility to
the Principles, but his former connection with the IRA was, predictably, used by
the British Government and unionists to discredit the campaign and its supporters.
The MacBride Principles gained considerable support in the United States,
including thirteen state legislatures, the trade union movement (AFL/CIO), and
Church organisations of all denominations. The campaign put pressure on US
companies which had previously shown little concern about sectarian practices;
Ford, for example, had been found guilty of discrimination. In 1987, to preempt
a shareholder resolution, the company adopted an affirmative action
programme.22
The British Government waged a campaign against MacBride which in
resources and commitment was in marked contrast to its grudging activity against
discrimination. The campaign’s £400,000 budget was considerably more than
the FEA’s annual budget even at its height. The FEA’s own Chair spoke in the
United States at meetings organised by the Northern Ireland Office to counter
support for MacBride. In spite of official hostility, the US campaign forced the
British Government to prepare amendments to the legislation, which subsequently
became the 1989 Fair Employment Act. Press reports acknowledged the US
role. According to The Independent, for example:
Concern among foreign investors about religious discrimination in
Northern Ireland was acknowledged by the Secretary of State for Northern
Ireland…as the prime motive behind government plans for more stringent
fair employment laws.
(cited in McCormack and O’Hara 1990:59)

The 1989 Fair Employment Act

The main provisions are:
a) Establishment of the Fair Employment Commission (FEC). The FEC replaced
the FEA, with an expanded staff and budget, and greater powers. The FEC
is responsible to the DED.
b) Annual monitoring. Compulsory annual monitoring of the religious
composition of employees of private firms and public sector bodies. In the
first two years, this applied to firms with more than twenty-five employees;
from 1992, to firms employing more than ten. Individual firms’ monitoring
returns were published for the first time in 1992.

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c) Affirmative action. The FEC has powers to investigate employment practices,

and can require affirmative action measures, goals and timetables to remedy
underrepresentation.
d) Contract compliance. An employer can be disqualified from receiving public
contracts for failure to register with the FEC, or submitting incomplete or
false monitoring returns.
e) Fair Employment Tribunal. This new body took over the FEA’s role in
relation to individual complaints of discrimination, with powers of
adjudication, enforcement and appeal.
f) Indirect discrimination. The Act outlaws indirect discrimination which can
be the subject of individual complaints.
The strength of the Act compared to other UK anti-discrimination measures
represented a desire to maintain all-party consensus in Britain and Northern
Ireland in response to the US challenge (Osborne and Cormack 1989). The
measures ‘constituted the least that the Government felt was necessary to defuse
criticism’ (McCormack and O’Hara 1990:63). The government has not been
able to defuse criticism either at the time of the Act’s passage through parliament,
or subsequently. The legislation was described by McCrudden as ‘fatally flawed’
(Booth and Bertsch 1989:49). Concern has focused on a similar range of issues
to the previous legislation.
While the Act was proceeding through parliament, it was announced that
there would be a comprehensive review after five years. The government
initially proposed that this would take place under the Central Community
Relations Unit (CCRU) at Stormont. After a public campaign, it was accepted
that the review would be undertaken by SACHR. It is due to report its findings
in late 1996.23

Lack of clear targets

The SACHR report had called for an interim target of reducing the male
unemployment differential from two and a half to one and a half in five years
(SACHR 1987:42). The Act included no targets or quotas, and no commitment
to a timetable for change.

Weakness of ‘affirmative action’

The overriding principle in the Act is the merit principle. Ministers refused to
exempt affirmative action24 programmes from the duty not to discriminate, thus
allowing a situation where measures to improve the prospects of Catholics were
open for the first time to challenge in the courts. Affirmative action became
subordinate to ‘systematic and objective recruitment’, which ‘gave the impression
that the selection of candidates was an exact science’ (McCrudden 1988:167).

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This ‘shifts the onus of responsibility for unemployment or lack of career

advancement to the Catholic/nationalist community’. 25 While ‘objective
recruitment’ was promoted, it was not made a legal requirement to follow the
procedures outlined in the Code of Practice for employers. There is, for example,
no obligation to advertise vacancies.26
The FEA/FEC has been keen to stress that segregation affects workplaces
across the board, and that there are many where Protestants are underrepresented.
While the goal of integrated workplaces may be desirable, this position implies
that sectarianism is equally a problem for both communities. The Act promotes
an abstract notion of fairness which ignores the relations of power which sustain
sectarianism.

Dependence on the Department of Economic Development

The FEC is directly responsible to the DED, which appoints members of
the Board and controls the budget. The DED has a right to all information
held by the FEC, giving it the power to suppress awkward investigations.
The FEC has no remit in relation to the economic strategies adopted by the
DE D. These influence the location of investment and infrastructural
developments and have major implications for the share of jobs. Fair
employment is thus made peripheral to government strategy. There is
considerable potential for conflict of interest between its developmental pro-
business role, and its monitoring role. This confusion extends into the
Commission itself:
You wouldn’t expect the CRE (Commission for Racial Equality) to be
wheeled out to reassure potential foreign investors about racism in Britain,
but the Chair of the FEC has been used to do just that in the United
States.27

Security exemption
The ‘security exemptions’ contained in the 1976 Act remain, despite lobbying
by the FEA and others. The security forces are excluded from the provisions of
the Act, and a certificate issued by the Secretary of State can prevent the FEC
from carrying out investigations on security grounds. This process is not subject
to public scrutiny. The law permits discrimination against ‘supporters of
terrorism’, an elastic term which can be used to include—as one MP suggested
in the discussion on the bill—anyone who votes for Sinn Fein (IRRC 1990:5), or
who lives in a strongly Republican area.28
The newly privatised Northern Ireland Electricity Company withdrew a
contract from a firm when it discovered that it was Catholic-owned. The Minister,
Tom King, intervened to prevent an investigation because of ‘concern over the
safety of a vital public utility’ (Irish News, 1991 cited in INC 1992:13). These

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provisions maintain the notion of Catholic ‘disloyalty’, which is at the heart of

the constitutional issue.
The Fair Employment Commission has taken this issue to the European Court
of Human Rights, using as test cases two Catholic families who believed they
were discriminated against in the awarding of government contracts. In May 1996,
the Court rejected claims by the British Government that the legal challenge was
inadmissible. It is expected to publish its recommendations in late 1996.29

Women’s employment
The Act excludes from monitoring employees working under sixteen hours per
week and those in establishments employing less than ten people. Together with
other exemptions, these make up 30 per cent of the workforce (Sheehan 1995:75),
the majority of them women. These exemptions considerably reduce the force
of the Act. They also reinforce the notion that part-time work is not ‘real work’
and that the main target of fair employment is male employment.

Sex equality legislation

Sex discrimination is lower on the official political agenda—a priority reflected in
the budget and powers of the two equality bodies. While pressure from the
United States has been crucial in pushing for more effective fair employment
legislation, the main instigator of progress in relation to sex equality has been
the Commission of the European Union.30 Article 119 of the Treaty of Rome
calls for equal treatment for men and women. Since this Article is part of the
primary legislation of the European Union, judgments made under it have the
force of law in all Member States. This has allowed a series of anti-discrimination
measures—for example on pay and pension rights—which have been reluctantly
incorporated into legislation in Britain and Northern Ireland.
The sex discrimination legislation was not designed for Northern Ireland
itself, but was imported from Britain. The legislative framework is broadly similar
to the British one, although the position of women is in many areas quite
dissimilar. Direct Rule has reduced women’s access to ‘legitimate’ political power.
In this situation the EOCNI provides one of the few arenas for the promotion of
women’s concerns. The EOCNI plays a relatively more important role in relation
to promoting women’s issues than does its sister organisation in Britain. The
organisation has a higher public profile,31 and was reprieved from abolition after
successful lobbying by women’s groups (MeWilliams 1991:9).

The legislation
The legislative framework is contained in three main provisions: the Equal Pay
Act of 1970; the Sex Discrimination Order of 1976; and the Equal Value
amendment of 1984, which became law following a ruling by the European

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Commission. Each added new powers, but retained the common framework
which ‘focuses only upon unequal contractual terms and conditions of
employment. It left untouched equal opportunities outside the contract of
employment’ (Lester 1990:13).
The Equal Pay Act made it illegal to discriminate between people doing ‘the
same or broadly similar work’ or work defined as equivalent by a job evaluation
scheme. While it brought an immediate boost in women’s hourly earnings relative
to men, this increase was not sustained, and by the 1980s the Act had ‘outlived
its usefulness’ (Gregory 1987:23). The Sex Discrimination Act included the
concept of indirect discrimination imported from the United States, which
represented a major departure in legal thinking:
It broke with the traditional method of reducing social conflicts to questions
of individual guilt and innocence and sought instead to identify and remove
the historical and structural impediments to equality.
(ibid.: 35)
Indirect discrimination provided the possibility of a challenge to rules governing
for example part-time working, which—though formally applying to both sexes
equally—in practice have a disproportionate impact on women. The new Act,
however, retained the same individual framework. Divorced from the American
context, where ‘class actions’ are permissible, its impact was seriously weakened
(ibid.: 35).
The equal value legislation amended the 1970 Equal Pay Act. The 1970 Act
had done little to remedy low pay for women in segregated employment, who
could not claim comparison with men in the same area. One result had been to
increase sex segregation as employers used the transition period before
implementation to relocate workers in order to avoid having to pay women
workers more (ibid.: 22). Equal value is intended to remedy the situation by
which jobs identified as ‘women’s work’ are designated as of lower status, and
carry fewer rewards than ‘male jobs’, regardless of the skills required. For example,
women are given the job title ‘cook’, men are ‘chefs’; women are ‘shop assistants’,
men are ‘salesmen’ (Rubinstein 1990:22). The law requires the complainant to
find a male ‘comparator’ employed either in the same establishment or another
of the same or an associated employer. Claims are based on an ‘analytic’ job
evaluation which must examine various dimensions of the job such as skill,
effort and responsibility. But as Rubinstein suggests:
An ‘acceptable’ job evaluation is commonly regarded as one which broadly
replicates the existing wage hierarchy of jobs. This is not surprising, since
were it not the case there would be something radically wrong with the
previous structure.
(ibid.: 23)
This hierarchy will tend to reflect the prevailing social norm, that women’s work
is of less value than men’s. Rubinstein points out that even the British EOC is not

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immune to this ideology. In a pamphlet entitled Job Evaluation Schemes Free of Sex
Bias, the work of a maintenance fitter and a nurse is compared, but the skills
necessary for the nurse’s job are, in Rubinstein’s view, undervalued (ibid.: 24).
Of 4,000 equal value applications in the UK in the five years after the law
took effect, only twenty cases were concluded, including one in Northern Ireland
(Maxwell 1991:75). The focus on the individual complainant places a considerable
burden on that person, requiring persistence and a willingness to undergo what
can often be a painful public scrutiny of every aspect of their working, and
sometimes their personal, lives. Although the burden of proof rests with the
complainant, the relevant evidence may be accessible only to the employer. The
European Commission’s proposed directive placing the burden of proof on the
employer was vetoed by the British Government.

The Equal Opportunities Commission for Northern Ireland (EOCNI)

The 1976 legislation established the statutory Equal Opportunities Commission,
with a separate Northern Ireland body, the EOCNI. The Commission has
powers to:
a) Pursue individual complaints of discrimination. The most widely publicised
aspect of the EOC’s work has been legal advice and support given to individual
complainants. This support is, however, cash-limited, restricting the number
of cases which can be pursued.32
b) Carry out formal investigations. The EOC and EOCNI have powers to
make formal investigations where discriminatory practices are suspected. If
unlawful discrimination is found, the Commission can issue a non-
discrimination notice, and seek injunctions to restrain employers from acts of
persistent discrimination. The EOC has no powers to monitor employment
patterns in individual workplaces.
c) Promote education and research and give advice. The Commission has powers
to organise promotional and publicity campaigns. It can also fund
organisations which aim to promote equality of opportunity and commission
research on issues relating to sex equality.
In contrast to the British EOC, which has generally taken a cautious and
conciliatory approach (Gregory 1987) the EOCNI has given a high priority to
supporting individual cases, ‘and has adopted a distinctly litigious stance where
a case raises any new point of legal principle’ (Maxwell 1991:85). Maxwell
argues that, while the actual case history in equal value cases has been
disappointing, they have provided the scope for ‘radical reappraisals of the work
traditionally done by women’ (ibid.: 91), and that the impact of publicity
surrounding the cases has raised awareness and recognition that ‘women’s jobs’
may be undervalued.

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This view is supported by those involved in the longest running equal value
case in Northern Ireland. Five women domestic assistants from the Royal Victoria
Hospital (RVH) claimed that their work was of equal value to that of male
porters and groundsmen who were on higher grades. The claim was lodged in
1985, and finally settled in 1995. The women were supported by their union
NUPE (now UNISON), and by their male comparators. In spite of the long-
drawn-out proceedings, and the limited compensation eventually won, the case
was of major significance to the women involved. As Rosaleen Davidson, one of
the claimants put it:
‘It increased my respect for my fellow workers. Ward-maids weren’t
expected to have values or opinions. They were just supposed to be work
horses. They weren’t seen or appreciated…after seven years the female
domestics are still fighting to be recognised as having equal value.’
(NUPE 1992:112)
Sex equality law suffers from many of the same problems as fair employment
legislation with its reliance on notions of fairness and objectivity, and
ineffectiveness in addressing structural disadvantage.33 It places enormous burdens
on individuals, and according to the EOCNI is ‘complex, cumbersome and
unworkable and results in unacceptable delays which lead to inordinate legal
costs’ (EOCNI 1991:12). While the sex discrimination legislation does allow
for affirmative action, its scope is relatively limited, and vulnerable to challenge.
The High Court decision in 1996 that the Labour Party’s ‘all women shortlists’
for parliamentary candidates were illegal demonstrates the weakness of the current
law in addressing major areas of underrepresentation.
Equality of opportunity is increasingly promoted as ‘making good business
sense’ by allowing companies to make the best use of available talent. This is
true only within very narrow limits. The legislation is concerned with equality
within the formal labour market contract. The problem for many women however
is access to paid employment. Women continue to bear the major burden of
unpaid domestic labour and caring responsibilities (MeWilliams 1991). Outlawing
discrimination at the stage of the employment contract is not sufficient to create
real, or substantive, equality in the absence of other policies—such as childcare
and flexible working time—which would allow women to combine productive
labour with family responsibilities. These measures are costly, and conflict with
a firm’s profitability.
Nearly half the women in the labour force work part time, often grossly
underpaid and with limited employment rights (Barry and Jackson 1988:91).
Deregulation of the labour market means that fewer women are aware of their
rights, and if they are, dare not claim them for fear of losing already precarious
employment altogether. In the absence of a high general standard of employment
protection, the existence of equality laws accentuates the hierarchy of employment.
Only people with secure, permanent jobs and the protection of a strong trade
union may be in a position to insist on their rights. Those who are most vulnerable

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and disadvantaged and so most in need of legal protection are precisely the
groups with least access to the law (Sales and Gregory 1996).

Policy Appraisal and Fair Treatment

In 1990, the British Government published proposals to strengthen the
consideration given to equality issues in policy development and evaluation in
government departments and public bodies—what became known as ‘equality
proofing’. The Northern Ireland version focused on gender and religion, but
the government’s proposals were withdrawn after vigorous criticism from local
organisations. The limitations of current equality legislation led to demands for
more proactive policy measures. In 1993, the Policy Appraisal and Fair Treatment
(PAFT) guidelines were published. These were more wide-ranging in scope than
previous policies, seeking to secure ‘equality of treatment regardless of religious
belief, political opinion, gender, marital status, having or not having a dependant,
ethnicity, disability, age or sexual orientation’ (TC4152 government circular: 2).
The circular called for fair treatment aspects to be considered in all new policy
proposals and services, and whenever existing policies and services are reviewed
(ibid.: 4).
These new guidelines suggest a marked break with the past, both in relation
to the range of potentially disadvantaged groups included, and the policy areas
covered. However equality is to be considered ‘alongside issues of economic
efficiency and effectiveness’ (ibid.: 4). This clause provides the possibility of
undermining the policy, since market considerations inevitably come into conflict
with equality.
In a review of the operation of PAFT, Gallagher et al. (1996) identified a
number of concerns and problems. They found a lack of consistency between
government departments in the methods used to carry out a PAFT review. More
seriously, there was confusion in the advice given to departments about the
priority to be given to PAFT relative to commercial criteria, particularly in relation
to Compulsory Competitive Tendering (CCT). For example, while the DHSS
advised health trusts that PAFT was to complement the normal commercial
criteria, the Department of Education advised education and library boards that
no non-commercial criteria could be used in CCT, apart from those relating to
fair employment (Gallagher et al. 1996:2). The authors concluded that although
an adequate mechanism appeared to be in place, it had proved to be insufficient
to deliver equal treatment in its implementation (ibid.: 2).

The limitations of equality legislation

Equality legislation has held a low priority in official policy. Every advance has had
to be wrung from the government, rather than introduced willingly and on its own
initiative (Hegarty 1995). The European Union has been the main initiator of progress
in relation to sex discrimination law, while the Irish lobby in the United States has

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been one of the major instigators of progress in relation to fair employment. Equality
issues have been marginalised within policy making as a whole because of the narrow
framework within which the legislation has evolved (Sheehan 1995:81).
The language of equal opportunities has started to permeate public bodies
and the larger companies, as compulsory religious monitoring has forced them
to examine the composition of their workforce. The implementation of equality
legislation has largely been a top-down exercise however. The technocratic process
of fair employment monitoring coexists with ‘avoidance’ of discussion of religious
divisions in the workplace, and a political culture in which the main divide is
around community loyalties. The gulf between the two was illustrated during a
discussion with Liam, the personnel manager of a large firm. After a detailed
outline of the company’s equal opportunities policies, in which he expressed
optimism about changes of attitude towards employment, he remarked ‘I have
only ever worked with one Protestant who I have felt comfortable with’.34 Sinead,
an equal opportunities manager in a public sector organisation, described
‘avoidance’ in her own workplace:
‘People don’t talk about politics here, even in the Equal Opportunities
Unit. We don’t even talk about trade union issues, because of the fear of
offending people.’35
She described how religion has tended to close off discussion, making every
political event a source of potential embarrassment and division:
‘We were expecting trouble here recently when the Orange Order wanted
to march through a local Catholic area. One of my Catholic colleagues
came over to me and whispered that it was all over, but we didn’t go out
for a drink to celebrate. We didn’t know whether it would have offended
others in the unit.’
While the discussion of religion remains ‘taboo’ in many workplaces, sectarian
practices are still rife. A report by the Fair Employment Commission in 1996
claimed that nearly a quarter of Catholic men and 13 per cent of Protestant men
had experienced harassment at work. The figures given for women were lower,
but the report stressed that most cases were not reported. Billy Robinson,
coordinator of Counteract, a trade union organisation working to combat
sectarianism in the workplace, told me:
‘Women face the double problem of sexual and religious harassment. There
are often sexual overtones to sectarian harassment, which makes it more
difficult for women to raise the issue. Women are not listened to as readily
as men, and men often dismiss sexual harassment as unimportant. Another
reason why men are more likely to be listened to is that male victims are
both perceived to be in more danger of violence, and they are also thought
to be capable of causing more problems if they are not listened to. We
really need to look at sectarianism from a women’s perspective.’36

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Fair employment legislation represents in its most acute form the contradiction
at the heart of government policy in Northern Ireland: an avowed neutrality,
together with a constitutional position which makes one community—the Catholic
community—suspect on security grounds. While equal opportunities policies
assume a state which is ‘outside’ the conflict, the repressive apparatus remains in
the hands of the Protestant community.
With politics constructed around ‘the numbers game’, fair employment
represents a perceived threat to Protestant jobs, which in times of economic
contraction is a very real fear. Appeals for ‘fair play’, together with the promotion
of ‘parity of esteem’, undermine the basis on which the Northern Ireland state
was founded.

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 5

SOCIAL POLICY AND SOCIAL

DIVISIONS

INTRODUCTION
The deep divisions between the two communities in Northern Ireland extend to
their relations to state policy at every level. Social policy, as well as the more
obvious and more researched areas such as policing and employment legislation,
is shaped by sectarianism. Social policy structures the relation between paid and
unpaid work, and is crucial to the organisation of gender relations. Northern
Ireland’s social policy has been based on a conservative model, with the family
and Church central to the provision of welfare. In the context of a society divided
along religious lines, this has inevitably produced a ‘social apartheid’ in welfare,
with each community largely servicing its own needs.
With the abolition of Stormont and the institution of Direct Rule, new bodies
were established to replace the former Unionist-dominated bodies in running
services (see Chapter 4). An official ideology of fairness and equality in provision
has been promoted, with services provided on the basis of need. ‘Religion
blindness’1 in official policy, and most academic discussion of social policy,
contrasts with actual practice. Sectarian divisions are often inadvertently
reinforced by the ‘religion-blind’ approach, while they may become even more
firm where, as for example in housing, policy makers ‘take for granted their
salience’ (Bruce 1994:144–5).
Social policy has involved an uneasy combination of avoidance and
accommodation to sectarianism. Housing has been one of the key areas in which
religious divisions have shaped both day-to-day policy and long-term planning.
The lack of formal recognition of this dimension, however, is exemplified in the
fact that no planning syllabus includes mention of the implications of sectarian
space (Murtagh 1993:3). The notion of religion blindness depends on service
providers being ‘outside’ the social context in which they operate:
The assumption that people, social workers or civil servants could choose
to be ‘neutral’ and set themselves apart from these processes does not take
account of the pervasiveness of our socialisation into sectarian attitudes
and behaviours.
(Smyth 1994:20)

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Northern Ireland’s welfare state model was imported from Britain, but has taken
a particular form in the political conditions of Northern Ireland. The conservatism
of the Stormont regime ensured that discretionary spending was kept to a minimum.
Sectarianism meant that the numbers game was always central to policy making,
with any advance in welfare provision scrutinised for its impact on the ‘other side’.
This thinking determined Unionist response to the abolition of free milk for school
children in 1973. The decision, taken by Margaret Thatcher as Minister for
Education, provoked widespread opposition in Britain and Northern Ireland, and
led to Thatcher being dubbed ‘milk snatcher’. Opponents of the measure saw it as
an attack primarily on working-class families, for whom school milk represented
an important element in the diet. Joyce McCartan led a demonstration—headed by
a large milk cow—to Belfast’s City Hall to demand that the council pay for free
milk. The response of the Unionist council however, was typically sectarian. Free
milk, they reasoned, benefited Catholics more than Protestants since Catholics
had more children: it was a short step from this to seeing support for free milk as
a nationalist demand. Joyce McCartan, herself a Protestant, told me:
‘There were Protestant and Catholic women at City Hall that day, protesting
against an injustice which had to be made right. But the councillors branded
us all as Republicans.’2
This association of the campaign with nationalism meant that some women
were put at risk because of their involvement. One Protestant woman was
intimidated at work after the demonstration (Edgerton 1986:71).
The centrality of the Protestant/Catholic debate has overshadowed discussion
of gender inequalities—Northern Ireland’s ‘problem postponed’ (Davies and
McLaughlin 1991). Social policy has been based on a ‘male-breadwinner’ model
(Lewis 1992): the assumption that men earn a ‘family wage’ while women are
primarily responsible for the care of dependents. Through a benefit system which
assumes women’s economic dependence on men, state policy has entrenched
domestic ideology. A bar on married women workers in public employment,
including the civil service and the police, was retained until the 1970s. While the
system assumed the existence of a male breadwinner, this was never the reality
for many families. In spite of the obstacles to entering the formal labour force,
women’s paid work has always been vital to the family income. Exclusion and
discrimination against Catholics meant that Catholic men were less likely than
Protestants to earn a family wage. Catholic women continued to predominate in
traditional sectors such as textiles. Mary Ferris, who now works as a domestic at
the Royal Victoria Hospital, recalled her earlier working life in the 1960s:
‘I used to work in factories doing stitching. They were mainly Catholic
women working there, but there was never a Catholic foreman. The
managers and mechanics were always Protestant men.’3
The family was the main provider of care, while state-funded services were
often channelled through the Churches. The overwhelming majority of Catholic

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children attended schools run by the Church, while Protestant clergy had a
major role in the management of state (‘controlled’) schools. The Churches also
played a prominent role in the development of health services and care of the
elderly. Unionist MPs at Westminster voted against the foundation of the National
Health Service, an action in which they found themselves in accord with the
Catholic hierarchy. When the NHS was introduced into Northern Ireland in
1948, the Irish News, which has a mainly Catholic readership, condemned what
it called ‘Dependence Day’:
Those opposing the social measures introduced today may be denounced
as cranks and faddists…. it should again be noted that one hospital in this
area, the Mater, has refused to be controlled by the state…. Only by such
a stand in the face of blandishments and enticements, can the state, greedy
for power, be kept at bay.
(cited in McAteer 1983:39)
State-funded health care represented a threat to the Church’s authority and control
over the Catholic family. As in the South, the Catholic hierarchy opposed public
provision which it saw as undermining the responsibility of the Christian family.
But in Northern Ireland it was not able to halt the development of the public
health service, or maintain its control over it. The Churches—both Protestant and
Catholic—have been central organisers of social life in both communities. As well
as their role in shaping the formal welfare services, they have been important
providers and organisers of informal welfare (St Leger and Gillespie 1991; Morgan
and Fraser 1994). The Catholic middle class, excluded from political power under
Stormont, was largely confined to servicing the needs of the community. School
teachers—with priests—became the main authority figures in the community, and
of necessity retained strong ties to the Church (O’Connor 1993).
In the years since the establishment of the welfare state, attitudes towards it
have been transformed. There is now almost universal support for the NHS,
and for increasing public expenditure in general. Unionists, who joined the
Catholic Church in denouncing public provision in the 1940s, are now more
likely to echo the views of local trade unionists in opposing cuts in services. This
is not so much due to an ideological shift, as to the loss of the traditional economic
strongholds of Unionist power. As the industrial base has declined, state
expenditure, including welfare, has become increasingly important in providing
employment, while a larger share of income is derived from welfare benefits
than in Britain. With the decline in public spending in the 1980s, welfare provision
is increasingly dependent on the work of voluntary groups, often using women’s
unpaid labour (Taillon 1992).
Direct Rule has removed local control over the total level of spending. There
are no locally elected institutions which can supplement national provision—for
example in relation to childcare—as some local councils have attempted to do in
Britain. Bernie Bradley, a Sinn Fein councillor in Derry, expressed frustration
with the limitations of her role:

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‘The council committees are only advisory and we can’t make decisions.
I’ve tried to raise the issue of childcare when we are discussing new
developments, but nothing has been provided.’4
The male-breadwinner model has been substantially undermined, in common
with the rest of Europe (Kofman and Sales 1996). Women’s involvement in the
paid labour force has risen consistently in spite of poor childcare, and they have
gained access to a widening range of occupations and professions. The labour
market continues, however, to be structured by gender and religious inequalities.
This issue will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 6. The ‘traditional’ family
has also been eroded by demographic change. Fertility rates have declined, and
family size in both communities has fallen substantially. The number of single-
parent families has risen, both through divorce and separation, and the growing
proportion of births to young single women.
Social conservatism has remained dominant, especially in relation to the
regulation of sexuality. This has been a crucial area for feminist campaigning,
and some notable successes have been achieved in relation to divorce and access
to contraception. Abortion, however, is still illegal except under exceptional
circumstances, while the decriminalisation of homosexual acts between men
over twenty-one was achieved only as a result of European Court ruling.
This chapter discusses a number of specific social policy areas: housing,
education, social services, and the regulation of sexuality. It is not comprehensive
either in the range of policies discussed, or in relation to the scope of the debates
on social policy. The key decisions on Northern Ireland’s social policy are made
in Britain. Under Direct Rule, the institutional arrangements have been similar
to those in Britain, and social provision has been subject to the same policy
imperatives. The NHS, for example, has undergone the development of the
internal market, and of trust status5 for hospital services. The restructuring of
welfare—particularly the changes associated with the ‘new right’—and its gender
implications have been widely discussed, both in relation to Northern Ireland
and more generally.6
The examples discussed below illustrate areas where social policy is most
clearly influenced by sectarian division. Housing and education provision are
two areas where the impact of sectarianism has been most explicitly discussed.
Schooling is explicitly segregated; in housing, the official approach has been
‘religion blind’, although in practice religion is recognised in housing allocation.
Both segregated education and housing are crucial in sustaining segregation
within the wider society. Social work maintains a ‘religion blind’ approach in
the allocation of staff, which has raised serious issues and problems for both
clients and staff. The regulation of sexuality is the area in which official policy is
most different from British policy, and where the influence of the Churches and
the conservatism of mainstream politicians has been most influential in
determining policy.

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SEGREGATION AND HOUSING

A political row broke out following the publication of the 1991 Census. Some
commentators claimed that the figures provided evidence of a serious decline in
the Protestant population, and there was even emotive talk of ‘ethnic cleansing’
(Anderson and Shuttleworth 1994:77). Chris McGimpsey, a Unionist Party
councillor in Belfast, claimed in a radio interview that this was ‘part of a deliberate
trend towards increasing Protestant drift from North and West Belfast for strategic
and military reasons’ (quoted in Murtagh 1993:15).
The Census was used to ‘prove’ Protestant fears of being overrun, and to
give a ‘scientific’ basis to sectarianism (Anderson and Shuttleworth 1994:75).
Anderson and Shuttleworth show that these claims were based on dubious
evidence. However, the row reflects the continuing importance of numbers and
territory in unionist politics, with any gain by Catholics seen as a loss to
Protestants.
Housing was one of the key issues of the civil rights movement, and housing
policy has had a particular resonance in Northern Ireland. Public housing has
been crucial to the development of segregation and the shifting of territorial
control between the two communities. Segregation is not a new phenomenon: it
was integral to the development of Northern Ireland’s industrial base (see Chapter
2). With the start of the Troubles, residential segregation increased sharply, as
families were forced out of their homes or fled to the comparative safety of the
ghettos to escape sectarian violence. In 1969 alone, 1,800 families fled, 80 per
cent of them Catholic (Chestnutt 1988:18). An Emergency Housing Scheme
housed over 11,000 families between 1969 and 1977 (ibid.: 20). The majority of
demand for emergency housing was from Catholics (ibid.: 28). Many families
forced out of Protestant areas were ‘mixed’ marriages. Eileen Bell is an Alliance
Party councillor. A Catholic, she is married to a Protestant. Eileen recalled her
own experience of being forcibly moved from her home:
‘We have been put out of two homes by loyalists. In 1971 we were living in
a mixed area in the centre of Belfast when they came. We lived in Southern
Ireland for a long time after that. In 1985 we were living on the fringe of
a Protestant area of West Belfast, and we were again put out by the UVF.’7
May Blood is a Protestant who is now a community development worker on the
Protestant Shankill Road, and Chair of the Shankill Women’s Forum. She was
living in a mixed area when the Troubles began:
‘The Protestant yobs came out, and moved the Catholics out. They moved
our family out too, even though my father was a bigot. We were trade
unionists and were seen as “reds”. We moved to a Protestant ghetto after
that.’8
As emergency housing was needed for those forced to move, there emerged in effect
two waiting lists, with specific areas defined as suitable for each community (Chestnutt

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1988:47). The intensification of segregation particularly affected those in public

housing. The proportion of those in public housing who lived in highly segregated
areas increased from 58 per cent in 1969 to 92 per cent in 1977 (ibid.: 18).
In 1972, a new housing authority, the Northern Ireland Housing Executive
(NIHE), was established, with the aim of taking housing out of politics. The
assumption was that a ‘neutral’ housing authority, divorced from unionist control,
would produce fairness in relation to distribution. A points system for housing
allocation was introduced, based on housing need. In effect a dual system operates,
since applicants are able to apply for housing on particular estates which are
known to be Catholic or Protestant.9 In addition, the Housing Executive gave
some areas ‘blanket Intimidation Reports’—indicating their suitability for Catholics
or Protestants (Chestnutt 1988:28). Religion blindness in allocation therefore
coexists with policies which accommodate segregation, and reinforce and
legitimise it. The Executive’s first annual report stated:
We believe that people should have the maximum freedom of choice in
where they wish to live. The Executive does not believe that forced
integration is any more desirable than a policy of deliberate segregation.
(cited in NIHE 1994:1)
Religion blindness is problematic, and unrealistic, in a situation of intimidation
and sectarian murder. Clearly religion is not a matter of indifference to people
waiting to be housed. As a senior officer of the Housing Executive asked:
in a climate of continuing violence is it realistic to expect Protestant or
Catholic families to choose housing in fringe or interface areas?
(McGivern 1993:27)
The Executive refused for many years to undertake religious monitoring of
applicants, arguing that this would suggest that religion was part of the decision-
making process, and might provoke a hostile reaction (Melaugh 1994:79). No
information is therefore available for the 1970s and 1980s which would allow a
definite judgement on how successful religion blindness has been in producing
fairness in the service provided to the two communities. While the Executive
claims that ‘no allegation of unfair treatment has been sustained over twenty
years’ (McGivern 1993:25), an investigation by the Policy Studies Institute (PSI)
found that ‘the chances of being housed were substantially higher for Protestants
than Catholics’ (NIHE 1994:3), and that ‘Protestant families had a higher quality
of accommodation than Catholic families’ (ibid.: 2). Since no religious monitoring
information was available, the PSI took the religion of families indirectly from
the estate on which they were housed—a methodology which is by no means
100 per cent reliable.
The PSI study recommended that religious monitoring of applicants be
undertaken routinely. A policy was adopted by the Executive in 1991, but
implementation has been extremely uneven. A Policy Review Group set up to
review progress noted that in 1994 information on religion was available for

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only 56 per cent of applicants for housing (NIHE 1994:10). The report notes a
marked regional variation in response rates, which it attributes to differences in
staff attitude to the monitoring process:
Staff feel awkward about the question: they may deliberately, or
inadvertently, lead some applicants not to bother completing the question.
For example…one housing officer indicated that he told an applicant that
she didn’t need to complete the religion question because it does not affect
the decision of whether or not to offer accommodation…in another case,
an officer agreed with an applicant that it was not necessary to answer the
question because everyone in the area was thought to be of one particular
religion.
(NIHE 1994:14)
By 1996, there had been little change. Of 17,000 applicants on the waiting list,
only 11,000 (65 per cent) had a valid religion code. The situation was worse for
the priority waiting list, with the required information on religion given in only
2,000 of 6,000 cases (33 per cent).10
Much of the controversy about the Executive’s work has centred on the
building of new estates and the renovation of old ones rather than on individual
allocation. These developments have led to changes in the sectarian geography
of Northern Ireland, and the Housing Executive has been criticised for the
‘deProtestantisation’ of West Belfast. The Shankill, the heart of Protestant West
Belfast, has seen its population fall from 76,000 in the 1960s to just 26,000 in the
1990s (Greater Shankill Partnership 1995:28). Shirley, a community worker in
the area, claimed that ‘for 25 years, the policy has been to disperse the Protestant
population and move it into the outlying areas’.11
The Shankill had been a close-knit community, but as the planners bulldozed
the old slum houses, they ‘swept away a whole community and a way of life’
(Greater Shankill Partnership 1995:6). Many former residents have been housed
in the bleak housing estates on the fringes of Belfast, such as Glencairn and
Springmartin. As Shirley explained: ‘there are no facilities on those estates. The
families used to look after children and the elderly. The government has destroyed
those networks.’12
Much of the ‘deProtestantisation’ is due to Protestants leaving Belfast
altogether. Protestants have had ‘greater mobility and wider choice of alternative
accommodation in the suburbs and growth towns’ (Chestnutt 1988:26). The
problems of the declining inner city reflect the changes in economic structure—
the decline in traditional manufacturing and the rise in service jobs—and increasing
polarisation within the Protestant community. These developments are not
dissimilar to those in British and other European cities, but in Northern Ireland,
they inevitably take on a sectarian dimension.
The rows over deProtestantisation reflect the continuing influence of sectarian
politics on housing policy. The fragility of the NIHE’s ‘religion-blind’ approach,
and its vulnerability to unionist attack is illustrated in the much publicised case

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of Oliver Kearney. Kearney was the Executive’s personnel manager from 1972
until his resignation in 1982. A Catholic, and a nationalist, he was accused by
Unionist Party MP Harold McCusker of discrimination against Protestants.
McCusker also alleged that housing policies were undermining the safety of his
constituents: ‘He was extremely concerned that areas formerly “safe” for members
of the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) and Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR)
to live were no longer safe’ (Graham 1991:130).
Kearney brought a libel case against McCusker, and the judge declared that
the allegations were ‘false and injurious’ and that McCusker’s statements ‘owed
more to prejudice than to reason or logic’. In spite of this judgment, he dismissed
the case on the grounds that the comments were covered by parliamentary
privilege since McCusker had used House of Commons notepaper. A subsequent
investigation by the Fair Employment Agency into employment practices in the
NIHE found that ‘by and large equality of opportunity in employment is being
provided’ (Graham 1991:133). The investigation did not, however, address the
issues surrounding the Kearney resignation.
Graham’s account also highlights the selective way in which ‘impartiality’ is
operated by the Board of Management of the Housing Executive. In 1986, two
officials were informed that their duties were incompatible with their membership
of the Fair Employment Trust, a body campaigning for the MacBride Principles.
The Trust responded by questioning whether members of Masonic lodges and
the Orange Order had been similarly warned (Graham 1991:135). The Chair
of the Board, Charles Brett, declared that the Board had ‘established a reputation
for fairness and impartiality’ and that Board members ‘leave their prejudices
outside in the umbrella stand’ (quoted in Graham 1991:136). In this instance,
campaigning against discrimination was deemed dangerous, while organisations
which support privilege were judged to be compatible with the impartial
functioning of government departments.
With public housing in Belfast ‘divided physically into separate self-contained
segments’ (Chestnutt 1988:44), the two communities are further divided by
physical barriers between housing estates. Perceptions of threat and insecurity
‘are reflected in bricks and mortar, barbed wire and steel’ (Chestnutt 1988:6).
The establishment of ‘peace lines’ has often been a result of demands from the
communities themselves for protection from physical threats or the fear of it
(Murtagh 1993:11). These have then become more permanent structures as the
authorities have replaced makeshift peace lines with architecturally pleasing
structures. They therefore represent ‘hard territory’ (Dawson 1984:11).
As part of a research project on the impact of segregation in Derry, a public
debate was held into whether the fence surrounding the Protestant enclave of
the Fountain should be removed. Feedback from the meeting suggested strong
support for the continued existence of the fence. The researchers were also left
with the strong feeling that some of the Fountain residents did not accept the
right of people outside the area to talk about the Fountain, the fence or other
related issues (Smythl995a: 17).

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The role of the security forces in the creation of these barriers, and in the
process of planning itself, has been hotly contested. The Housing Executive
claims that the organisation itself has no involvement in security issues (Murtagh
1993), although a security committee on housing, involving the security forces,
meets with the Belfast Development Office at Stormont, and has the power of
veto on planning (Dawson 1984:13). The demands from local residents and
politicians for higher walls and reduced access between different areas largely
coincide with the interests of the security forces (ibid.: 46). That the Executive
takes these issues into account in its planning is demonstrated in this comment
from its Chief Executive:
‘Is it not legitimate to try to arrange layout, street lines, boundary walls
and so on to minimise such clashes and assassinations?’13
Graham suggests that the security forces may have taken a more proactive role
in initiating the ‘peace lines’. A thirteen-foot wall was built in 1985 to separate
the Shankill from the nationalist Ardoyne. The Belfast Development Office
claimed that this was in response to residents’ demands, but locals ‘alleged that
this “need” was manufactured by the security forces with a series of bomb hoaxes
and unnecessary searches by the British Army’ (Graham 1991:142).
The barriers are most visible in ‘interface areas’, where enclaves of one
community live close by the other. Road plans which prevent direct access from
one area to another have made this separation semi-permanent. There is for
example no pedestrian or vehicle access between the Lower Falls and the Lower
Shankill just a few hundred yards away. A huge area of empty desolate space
separates them, and to get from one area to the other, you have to go via the city
centre.
Most people in these areas use the shared ‘black taxi’ service to travel to and
from the city centre. These are cooperatively run services which have become
the second largest form of public transport in Belfast (Rolston and Tomlinson
1988:122). The Falls taxi service began in the 1970s when bus services were
withdrawn from Catholic West Belfast at the start of the Troubles. The taxi
company employed many ex-internees and has suffered harassment from the
authorities, through ‘political vetting’ (ibid.: 123). Similar services were
subsequently established to cater for the Protestant areas. The taxis start at the
edge of the city centre, a short distance apart, and run up either the Falls or the
Shankill. Different customs have evolved in the two areas. A nationalist friend
warned me how I should behave in a Protestant taxi:
‘Be sure to pay before you get out. If you stand and pay after you’ve got
out they’ll think you’re a Catholic.’
Many areas are clearly marked out as belonging to one community. The paving
stones painted green, white and orange or red, white and blue are the visible
signs of identity and control. The barriers, and the layout of estates allow the
areas to be defended against outsiders, and movements within estates to be

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observed. The lack of access between areas means there will be little reason for
most Catholics to go into a Protestant area. Paramilitaries may act as ‘gatekeepers’
for the community, questioning the legitimacy not only of people from ‘the
other side’. Jennifer works in a cross-community project. She described her first
visit to a loyalist area for the project:
‘There were questions about my “loyalty” since I live in a Catholic area. I
was told I should go and speak to X (a member of the UDA). I was pretty
scared at first, but he gave me the OK.’14
Analyses of the 1991 Census suggest that residential segregation has increased.
This conclusion should be treated with caution however. The published
information is based on wards, which may be misleading since wards with
apparently mixed populations may include areas of high concentration of one
religious group. Ward boundaries bear little relation to the boundaries in which
people live their lives (Anderson and Shuttleworth 1994:90). The Census figures
do show, at the very least, very high levels of segregation in some areas. In half
of Belfast’s wards the population includes less than 5 per cent of one religion or
the other (nineteen mainly Catholic, sixteen mainly Protestant). Using more
disaggregated figures for Derry, Smyth (1995a) detected a significant increase in
segregation in the city since 1971.
The experience of segregation is not the same for those living in the large
ghettos as it is for people in ‘enclave’ areas. Elinor, a community worker now
living in a Protestant area of West Belfast, explained:
‘I was born in East Belfast. It was a Protestant area and we never came
into contact with Catholics. Here it’s an enclave. It used to be mixed—the
mills had a joint workforce. It’s strange coming into an area where
sectarianism is part of everyday life. Everyone has someone involved in
the paramilitaries—young men felt very threatened.’15
An analysis of ‘doorstep murders’ in Belfast showed that over 40 per cent of all
such killings have taken place in the North of the city (Murray 1995:4), where
sectarian boundaries are less clear than in the West and East. This situation has
led to ‘the use of force in an attempt to maintain the status quo in the face of
threatening changes in social space’ (ibid.: 6). One ‘doorstep murder’ in 1993
involved the first Catholic family to move onto Shore Road in North Belfast.
Murray reports that there was widespread speculation that the family had been
targeted to deter other Catholics from moving into the area (ibid.: 6). The Derry
study of Protestant and Catholic enclaves showed that fear and defensiveness
against outsiders was rife. The researchers report that being seen to talk to the
‘other side’ is viewed as risky and potentially disloyal (Smyth 1995b: 13).
The association of high levels of segregation with public housing inevitably
means that it affects working-class people disproportionately. Segregation in
housing is compounded by high unemployment in the inner-city ghettos. May
Blood explained that many young people in the Shankill have had no experience

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of work, or of mixing with people from outside the area. Older people are more
likely to have worked, and to have experienced mixed environments:
‘Most people here spend most of their time on the road—they do their
shopping, their social life is in the area. Some young people have never
been out. I knew a nineteen-year-old man who had never been out of
Glencairn Estate. He had to go to Turf Lodge [a Catholic area] as part of
a community development programme. He asked me to go with him
because he was so nervous about going.’16
The 1991 Census also showed an increasing number of Catholics living in the
middle-class neighbourhoods of South Belfast, while Protestants were tending
to move to the suburbs. This illustrates the changing relation between class and
segregation. In her study of Catholic identity and attitudes, O’Connor (1993)
interviewed many professional people who had moved from the ghettos to more
mixed areas. Several recalled the communities in which they had been brought
up: the doctor, school teacher and priest all lived within the community they
served. The first two of these are now most likely to have moved out, leaving
behind a more impoverished, and more homogeneous, community. The
professional community workers who have taken on some of the functions of
the clergy may also live outside the areas in which they work.
Middle-class people are more likely to be in the kind of employment where
there is a greater chance of mixing, and to have gone through higher education
which, unlike secondary schooling, is mixed. In spite of these greater opportunities
for meeting people from the other communities, social networks remain largely
separate:
In many areas there are no natural places for people to mix, instead there
are social, religious, sport, educational and cultural activities and venues
which by their nature or location all tend to reinforce the separateness of
the communities. Those activities which are neutral can, because of the
venue, e.g. a Church Hall, Orange Hall, Gaelic hall, mean they only involve
people in that community.
(Glendinning 1993:33)
Segregation affects women and men differently. Women are generally less mobile
than men, since caring and domestic responsibilities tie them more closely to the
home. Women are also less likely than men to be in employment, and if in paid
work, to work part time and to travel shorter distances. They have less access to
cars, and have less money to spend. Many young people in both communities
hardly ever leave the area. Single parents often have the most difficulties. A
study of childcare needs in the Protestant Shankill surveyed 203 households, 43
per cent of which were headed by single parents, the majority women. Only one
in three had regular access to any childcare arrangements, mostly through family
members. This brought severely restricted social lives, with less than 30 per cent
regularly involved in community or leisure activities. One in four had not

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participated in any leisure activity in the past month. Few were able to work:
two-thirds had not had a job for over five years (Taillon et al. 1992:2–3). Siobhan,
an advice worker at a Women’s Centre in a Catholic area of Belfast, described
similar problems:
‘The number of teenage pregnancies is very high here. Girls drop out of
school, out of mainstream society. Boys are catered for in the community,
but girls have nothing. Having children gives them an identity.’17
Women are more likely to remain in their own areas because of material obstacles.
On the other hand, a woman travelling into ‘alien’ territory may be perceived as
less of a threat than a man because she is less likely to be involved in a paramilitary
group (or the security forces). This greater acceptance has facilitated women’s
cross-community work, but it has not necessarily led to a breaking down of
social barriers. As Shirley from the Shankill—who works in organisations across
the divide—put it: ‘to this day I couldn’t bring a Catholic to my home. I would
feel uncomfortable for them.’18
People feel more comfortable going into other areas if they have an obvious
reason for being there. Anne, a Catholic social worker, said:
‘I used to find it easier to be in the Shankill as part of my work role. I’m
not doing that work now, and I feel less safe. I wouldn’t go into the area at
night.’19

EDUCATION
According to an authority on segregation, ‘the two factors which do most to
divide Protestants as a whole from Catholics as a whole are endogamy and
separate education’ (Whyte 1990 cited in Smyth 1995:15). The patterns and
extent of residential segregation vary, with a substantial proportion of the
population living in relatively mixed areas. Segregation in education, however,
affects virtually everyone across Northern Ireland, and plays a major role in
reinforcing ethnic boundaries.
The overwhelming majority (98 per cent) of pupils attend schools which are
distinctively Protestant or Catholic. Catholic, or ‘maintained’, schools are overtly
religious in affiliation, with a majority of Catholic clergy on the management.
State, or ‘controlled’, schools are not officially Protestant. As Murray
demonstrates, however, they are effectively Protestant institutions, both in their
intake and their character. He suggests that the current educational structures
‘are the direct result of each church getting what it wanted’ (Murray 1985:133).
An Education Act of 1930 ensured that Bible (i.e. Protestant) instruction was
carried out in state schools, while Protestant clergy secured at least 50 per cent
representation on the management committees of state primary schools (Murray
1985:20). This proportion has been reduced with the transfer of responsibilities
to Education and Library Boards, and the expansion of parental representation

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under Education Acts in the 1980s. Protestant clergy nevertheless continue to

participate in the management of state schools, while Catholic clergy are never
invited to participate.
Murray describes an incident which illustrates the extent to which Protestants
see state schools as their own. In 1981 one of the Education and Library Boards
appointed two Catholics to the management board of a state school. Parents
and clergy organised a petition demanding that only non-Catholics should be
appointed since ‘in the vast majority of cases, pupils at state schools are Protestant’.
The two Catholics subsequently resigned (Murray 1985:26).
Murray’s detailed study of two primary schools—one Protestant and one
Catholic—showed how different were the values purveyed by the two schools.
The Protestant school celebrated its links to England and Scotland, while the
Catholic school identified culturally more closely with the rest of Ireland. At the
Protestant school ritual was visibly and self-avowedly British. At prize day, the
headteacher asked the audience to sing the national anthem ‘to show our loyalty’
(Murray 1985:60). The Union Jack flag flew daily outside the school as required
by the North Eastern Library Board. The Catholic school emphasised a religious
rather than overtly political identity. Religious rituals took place in school time,
while Catholic symbols were visible throughout the school buildings. But in the
context of Northern Ireland, Catholicism is seen as a political identity as much as
a religious one (ibid.: 62) and the ‘dominant cultures are so mutually antipathetic
that any demonstration of one is perceived as an assault on the other’ (ibid.: 114).
Staff at the Protestant school claimed that the statues of the virgin Mary in
the Catholic school were provocative, and deliberately ‘flaunted’. Murray
discovered that, far from the Catholic staff consciously asserting their Catholicism,
the presence of these symbols had become so natural to them that none were
able to describe to him the statue of the Virgin which had a prominent place in
the school entrance hall. Staff at the ‘controlled’ school claimed (rightly) that
their school was open to all:
However, every ritual and symbol which demonstrated their natural British
aspirations simultaneously reinforced the Catholic conviction that state
schools were Protestant establishments and actively sought to maintain an
exclusively Protestant nature.
(Murray 1985:70)
Schooling provides a powerful environment for the transmission of attitudes
and values, and the formation of group identity. As Murray’s study shows, it
also reinforces views and stereotypes of ‘the other side’. While the formal
curriculum was remarkably similar, the rituals and symbols purveyed in the two
schools emphasise their difference. The prominence of religion in the schools’
formal and informal curriculum has important ideological effects. The visible
presence of the male clergy encourages deference, and tends to reinforce
conservative ideas about the proper role of women and men. The Catholic view
of education emphasises the trinity of home, family and school (Murray 1985:24).

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Religious instruction is based on Catholic doctrine and morality. Maureen, a

Catholic parent, described a visit by the anti-abortion group Society for the
Protection of the Unborn Child (SPUC) to her daughter’s school:
‘They brought dead foetuses into the classroom. It was emotional blackmail.
Deirdre objected and her friends thanked her for speaking up. They found
it difficult because it meant going against the teacher.’20
Since the 1989 Education Reform Order, all state schools have been required, in
common with schools in Britain, to hold a daily Act of worship of a ‘mainly
Christian’ character. The Christian message of state schools is, however, too
weak for some evangelicals. The schools associated with the Free Presbyterian
Church have a curriculum ‘which eschews such things as the teaching of evolution
and adheres to fundamentalist interpretations of the Bible on moral and sexual
issues’ (Smith 1995:180).
The power of religious groups to dictate the moral tone of education extends
to other educational institutions. Trevor had been teaching at a technical college
in a Protestant area for two years when someone ‘put the word around’ that he
was gay. He was summoned to the principal’s office:
‘He told me that the Presbyterians were unhappy, and they didn’t want
their sons to be taught by me. This was in Paisley’s constituency and they
were very powerful.’21
Trevor was asked to resign and suspended on full pay. He left Northern Ireland
three weeks later. His union would have fought it, but the stress would have
been too much for him. He would not have been able to teach there again. As he
put it: ‘I knew that once it was out my teaching would be undermined’.
Schools are crucial in the establishment of friendships. Segregated schooling
therefore plays a powerful role in preserving endogamy. A survey of friendship
patterns found that only 12 per cent of students at Queen’s University had
friendships with people from the other community. In a group of similar aged
people who had attended Lagan College (the first integrated school) 44 per cent
had friendships across the divide (NICIE 1995:7). This is strong evidence of
the impact of segregation on friendships, but that less than half of Lagan College’s
former pupils had retained ‘mixed’ friendships suggests the power of other
mechanisms of separation.
Most discussion of separate schools has focused on its impact on pupils, but
segregation has implications for social networks in the community as a whole.
Schools often provide a focus for community activity. Parents, particularly
women, tend to establish friendship networks around their children’s schools,
and to form groups to help each other with such things as picking up their
children. Schools therefore tend to reinforce separate social networks for adults
as well as for children.
Schools also represent a major area of workplace segregation, employing a
large proportion of the public sector workforce. According to the 1991 census,

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there were then just over 26,000 teaching professionals—almost 5 per cent of the
employed population. This group is exempt from fair employment monitoring
so the religious composition of individual schools is not available. The structure
and character of schools ensure, however, that they are staffed almost entirely
by people from the predominant religion. A study in 1977, published as Schools
Apart, found that of 1,521 secondary school teachers surveyed, only 29 were
employed in a school where the predominant religion was different from their
own; of 480 grammar school teachers, the number was nine; and of 750 primary
teachers, three (Murray 1985:33). Teachers may have little contact with teachers
from neighbouring schools from ‘the other side’. They are organised
predominantly in separate unions. The Ulster Teachers’ Union recruits mainly
among teachers in controlled (Protestant) schools, while the Irish National
Teachers Organisation recruits mainly in the maintained (Catholic) sector.
Segregation by religion is the most distinctive feature of Northern Ireland
education,22 but the system is also highly segregated by ability and sex. Northern
Ireland retains a selective system, with children taking the Eleven Plus
examination at the end of their primary schooling. Education in Northern Ireland
has been controlled almost entirely by conservative administrations, both under
Stormont and Direct Rule. Plans for a move towards comprehensive schooling,
put forward in the 1970s under Labour, were shelved with the return of the
Conservative Government. Selection is often as much on class lines as ability.
Geoffrey Beattie, a Protestant from a working-class family, describes how when
he was eleven years old his world fell apart. He had passed the Eleven Plus, and
‘had been pushed out and I now had to swim away to strange and foreign
shores’ (Beattie, 1992:121). Nobody from his primary school had passed the
Eleven Plus in living memory:
While other schools were running special courses on how to perform in
‘culture-fair’ intelligence tests, St Mark’s just didn’t bother. One morning,
they simply informed us that the Eleven Plus was to take place the next
day.
(ibid.: 122)
Secondary schools are also more likely to be sex segregated in Northern Ireland
than in Britain. Catholic schools are more commonly segregated by sex than
maintained schools. A quarter of secondary, and almost half of grammar schools
are single sex (Smith 1995:168). This triple separation limits even further the
range of social contact.
Opinions differ on the value of girls-only education in relation to academic
achievement.23 A considerable body of research has suggested that Catholics as
a whole have been disadvantaged by the structure of education provision in the
past (Osborne and Cormack 1987). The gap—both in funding and achievement—
had largely closed by the time of the 1991 Census (Cormack et al. 1993).
Substantial differences remain, however, in relation to subject specialisms. The
lack of resources particularly affected scientific subjects which require expensive

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equipment. This developed into a Protestant specialisation, while Catholics

specialised in the less resource-consuming arts subjects. Catholic girls’ schools
have tended to be the least well provided with science facilities. The concentration
on these subject areas has implications for occupational choice (see Chapter 6).
The National Curriculum, with its requirement for all pupils to study science
and technical subjects throughout their secondary schooling, has led to some
improvement in the provision for these subjects in Catholic schools.
The closing of the education gap has created some resentment among
Protestants. Traditional employment opportunities have been disappearing, and
qualifications are becoming more necessary to obtain work. Billy Hutchinson of
the Progressive Unionist Party voiced this concern:
‘In three out of nine Protestant schools in the area no child passed the
Eleven Plus. No Catholic school was in this position. Protestants could
traditionally get jobs in trades and women stayed at home. Now we no
longer have the traditional skills or the jobs.’24
Catholic students are now in the majority at Queen’s University, once a bastion
of unionism. This has led to some symbolic changes, most notably that the
National Anthem is no longer played at official functions. Ian Paisley, Junior,
who gained a masters degree in 1995, protested at this concession to nationalism
by walking up to receive his award to the sound of God Save the Queen played
from his own tape recorder.
Government policy in relation to education has explicitly recognised sectarian
divisions, and until recently has taken a laissez faire approach to segregation. It
was a group of parents who took the initiative in developing integrated schools.
The campaign began in 1974 with ‘All Children Together’ (ACT), and Lagan
College was founded in 1981. The school did not receive state funding until
1986. With the creation of grant maintained status25 in the 1988 Education
Reform Act (the 1989 Education Reform Order in Northern Ireland) a formal
mechanism for funding such schools was opened up. The Act also established
the Northern Ireland Council for Integrated Education to assist parents in
establishing integrated schools.
The integrated schools movement26 has grown steadily. In 1995, there were
5,500 pupils being educated in integrated schools. The education system now
includes thirty integrated schools, nineteen primary and eleven (secondary)
colleges.27 This is still a tiny minority of pupils, less than 2 per cent of the school
population (NICIE 1995:15). None of these schools is secular, but all are
‘essentially Christian in character’ (ibid.: 7). They are interdenominational, with
clergy from all major religious denominations involved in their management
and in religious instruction and the ‘spiritual welfare of the children’ (ibid.).
This small proportion of children in integrated schools contrasts with the
results of opinion surveys, which suggest strong parental support for integrated
education. As Murray points out, the perceptions of what integration means
may vary—with Protestant parents for example being happy to express support

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for Catholics joining state schools, but horrified at the idea of Catholic clergy
being welcomed into these schools.
The Church hierarchies have generally been unsupportive to integrated
education. The Catholic Church has been most openly hostile, refusing to involve
themselves in religious education outside Catholic schools. The Protestant
Churches have consistently claimed integrated schools were unnecessary as ‘state
schools are open to all’ (ACT 1995). In February 1995, however, the three main
Protestant Churches issued a booklet to governors representing them on state
school boards, advising them to appoint teachers and heads willing to support
and promote Protestant values and ethos (ibid.).
The government has become more proactive in promoting cross-community
links through the curriculum. Policies aimed at actively combating prejudice
have been promoted, as community relations have developed a higher priority
on the political agenda. In 1987 the sum of £400,000 was provided to encourage
all schools in Northern Ireland to become involved in inter-school contact (Smith
1995:172). This was followed by the inclusion, as part of the 1989 Education
Reform Order, of two new ‘cross curricular themes’—Education for Mutual
Understanding (E M U) and Cultural Heritage. Education for Mutual
Understanding became compulsory in 1992.
This development marks a significant change of culture, from avoidance of
controversy, to active discussion of difficult issues. While wider debate is to be
welcomed, this strategy is unlikely to have much impact on its own. As Smith
comments, ‘the class room teacher will have difficulty nurturing tolerance and
respect of difference while basic inequalities within society remain unaddressed’
(Smith 1995:183). A report to the Community Relations Unit (Gallagher et al.
1996) suggested that these curriculum initiatives have had little impact on attitudes
on either side:
The extent of difference between these perceptions we found to be, at
times, startling. That there appeared to be so little evidence of tolerance,
seeing other points of view or considering any potential value to cultural
pluralism was a disappointment.
(ibid.: 49–50)

SOCIAL SERVICES
Informal social welfare—by family, friends and neighbours—has always played a
prominent role in provision in Northern Ireland. As elsewhere, women provide
the overwhelmingly majority of this care. The Churches have also been major
providers of welfare, and have played an ‘important integrative—and sometimes
divisive—element’ (St Leger and Gillespie 1991:109). Since the Troubles began,
community groups, often run by women, have provided an increasing range of
welfare services. With cuts in public spending on welfare, there has been increasing
reliance on these groups.

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The location of community organisations determines that they provide services

mainly to either Catholics or Protestants. Community groups have a longer
history in Catholic areas. The growth of Protestant community groups in the
1980s was a response to rising unemployment and deprivation in these areas,
and the perception that Catholics had been able to make gains by being better
organised. Opening a conference on community development in Protestant areas,
in 1991, a community worker suggested:
There is an innate resistance on the part of Protestants to declare themselves
in need. This strong sense of pride inhibits groups from approaching
charities for help. Catholic groups on the other hand are very conscious of
where they stand on the league table of deprivation and have no problems
declaring themselves in need.
(quoted in Sweeney 1991:11)
A network of community groups has developed, many of whose members have
strong links with paramilitary organisations. As St Leger and Gillespie’s study
of informal welfare in Belfast suggests, issues of funding for ‘territorial’ community
groups ‘were often, by extension, regarded as sectarian…especially if there was
competition for scarce resources’ (St Leger and Gillespie 1991:113).
The growth of community-based welfare has tended to perpetuate the ‘social
apartheid’ in welfare provision. This is also true of some of the services provided
by the social services boards. Personal care workers, such as home helps, are
exempt from the Fair Employment legislation, and are generally allocated on a
local basis, and therefore to coreligionists. Professional social workers, on the
other hand, have attempted to operate a neutral policy, with staff working across
the divide. Smyth’s (1994) study of social work practice—one of the few to examine
sectarianism in relation to the provision of services—highlights the problems of a
‘religion-blind’ approach in a situation of conflict.
Social workers operate across the boundaries between the public and private
spheres. As employees of the state, they have statutory powers to enter their
clients’ homes, and access to some of the most personal information about them
and their families. Other professionals make home visits, but their relations with
their clients are very different. Doctors, for example, are chosen by the patient,
and they generally choose a coreligionist. A whole series of attitudes and values
can therefore be taken for granted between them. Clients do not choose their
social worker, but are allocated to them.
Social workers are required by their professional ethics, and by their employers,
to provide a service to Catholic and Protestant clients impartially. Their clients
are generally allocated on a ‘non-sectarian’ basis (Smyth 1994:14). This strategy
was devised in the 1970s in response to allegations of discrimination, but it had
the effect of ignoring the reality of sectarian division and putting social workers
into a situation where real differences are often unaddressed (ibid.: 14). With
segregated housing creating strictly defined areas based on religion, social workers
often work in ‘hostile territory’: ‘A Catholic social worker visiting a Protestant

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working class area (or a Protestant worker visiting a Catholic area) is likely to be
at least uneasy if not very scared indeed’ (Smyth 1994:13).
Smyth argues that allocation of social workers to clients on a ‘non-sectarian’
basis may put Catholics disproportionately at risk, since social work is a ‘Catholic’
profession and Catholics therefore more often work in Protestant areas than vice
versa. This risk is increased since loyalist paramilitaries have been more prone
than Republicans to treat Civilians as legitimate targets. Men are more likely to be
perceived as a potential threat, and are therefore more at risk than women.
Most social workers working in Northern Ireland have been brought up there
themselves, and carry with them attitudes and assumptions formed by the
community from which they come. It is difficult to be ‘neutral’ in relation to the
conflict, and social workers are not perceived to be neutral. In dealing with
clients from ‘the other side’ they may face hostility and suspicion. Clients may
also express sectarian sentiments yet it may not always be ‘safe or appropriate to
challenge them’ (Smyth 1994:13). This problem may become more acute when
social workers have to liaise with community groups which may act as the ‘local
authority’ in the area (Smyth 1994:13–14), especially if they have links with
paramilitary organisations.
People in Northern Ireland are not unique in regarding social workers with
suspicion. The problems are intensified, however, in a situation of conflict. The
individual social worker may be seen not merely as a representative of the ‘other
side’, but of a hostile and oppressive state. Catholics are particularly suspicious.
Siobhan from a Women’s Centre in a strongly nationalist area explained:
‘We try to encourage women to seek help, but they are often very reluctant.
They don’t want outside agencies in their homes.’28
This reluctance takes a rather different form in Protestant communities, such as
the Shankill. As May Blood explained:
‘We have a very large proportion of young parents here, who don’t want
to get involved with statutory bodies. They don’t go to ante-natal classes.
Elderly people don’t get much support—they see it as a sin to look for
help. Helping to care for them is mainly down to the women, and this
causes enormous strain.’29
These problems become particularly acute where social work intervention
involves the police, for example in relation to domestic violence. An official
study reported that there were ten deaths due to domestic violence in 1991–92,
with a total of 2,800 domestic disputes dealt with by the RUC, and 2,500 personal
protection orders granted (MeWilliams and McKernan 1993:5). According to
the authors of the report, ‘violence can be condoned by cultural belief about the
place of women, and the notion of women’s economic dependence on men and
the sanctity of marriage’ (ibid.: 23).
These attitudes towards marriage and the family can mean that domestic violence
is often hidden. The authors interviewed women from both communities who had

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suffered violence. They found that although the family was the most important
source of support, religious belief sometimes meant that families were unsupportive.
There was a high level of contact with clergy, although few women, from either
community, found them helpful. The Catholic Church’s opposition to divorce meant
that priests often encouraged women to return to their violent husbands. Some men
went to the clergy for support in trying to get their wives to return. Women faced
‘community stigma’ (ibid.: 53) for leaving their husbands. If the husband was involved
with a paramilitary organisation, they may be seen to be disloyal to the community.30
Community tolerance of domestic violence is graphically illustrated in the story of
Karen, a young mother who lived in Protestant East Belfast. Pat, a community
worker in East Belfast, described what happened to her:
‘She used to attend our mother and toddler group. She was often covered
in bruises after her boyfriend had beaten her up. In the end he killed her.
He got less than two years for it. When he came out they organised a
welcome home party in that pub across the road. I was sickened by it, but
the women were afraid to object.’31
Some women in the 1993 survey did seek help from the paramilitaries, and the
UDA had helped to eject one husband from his home. But some women were
worried about involving the paramilitaries for fear of violence against their
husbands. Nationalist women in particular are reluctant to contact the RUC.
They would worry about neighbours seeing police arriving. In Catholic areas,
the police are not seen as being there to help the community, but as ‘the harasser’
themselves (MeWilliams and McKiernan 1991:56). A further issue was raised
by Mairead, a Sinn Fein activist:
‘It’s too dangerous for women to involve the police in relation to domestic
violence. You get pressured into becoming an informer.’32
The view that you should not involve the police is also widespread in loyalist
areas. Paramilitary violence has had an impact in the domestic sphere. Joan,
who works in a Protestant women’s centre, explained:
‘There have been three women murdered in this area since the ceasefires.
The Troubles have made a lot of these men very aggressive.’33
Violence against women, and the needs of women in general, have been
overshadowed by the Troubles. Women have become increasingly involved in
providing a range of services to supplement formal provision. They have
responded to the failure of state services to highlight their needs, and the
limitations of traditional informal community organisations. They have taken
up the difficult ‘hidden issues’ which the Church and community have often
attempted to deny, such as child abuse, violence against women, and unwanted
pregnancy. The Shankill Women’s Centre, for example has organised workshops
on a range of difficult issues including alcohol and drug abuse, and domestic
violence. A study of women’s voluntary organisations concluded that they:

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provide a wide range of often highly specialised services which supplement

existing statutory provision. Some groups feel they are increasingly called
upon to replace services which should be provided by statutory agencies,
or to ‘pick up the pieces’ as a result of social cutbacks.
(Taillon 1992:3)
One of their prime concerns is advice work. The most common issues relate to
problems of poverty and debt, and domestic violence.34 The centres help women
with filling in official forms to claim benefits. Their involvement may extend
further, replacing the formal social worker. As Siobhan explained:
‘There is a stigma associated with welfare and social workers. Our advice
workers can take away people’s fears.’35
As councils’ budgets are squeezed, these organisations face increasingly severe
problems over funding. Many of the women who work as volunteers for these
organisations have undertaken demanding and often expensive training, and ‘in
all too many cases this remains unrecognised and undervalued by funding
agencies’ (Taillon 1992:4). The needs of women are very low on the agenda for
most politicians. As Pat put it,
‘Politicians are not interested in local issues. They will only get involved if
a sectarian point is to be made.’36
Some groups in Taillon’s study raised the issue of ‘political vetting’ and the
withdrawal of funding from community groups whose activities do not please
the funding bodies (ibid.: 6). Political vetting has primarily, but not exclusively,
been an issue for groups in nationalist areas. Funding is often channelled through
Church organisations which may attempt to limit the agendas of these groups.
As with voluntary groups in Britain, the line between providing services and
campaigning around women’s issues is extremely blurred. These community
groups are involved in campaigning and lobbying work on a variety of issues of
concern to women. They have provided an important base for the women’s
movement, and more recently for cross-community links between women. These
issues are discussed in more detail in Chapter 7.

THE REGULATION OF SEXUALITY

The promotion of family values by Church and state is seen most explicitly in
relation to issues of sexuality. The Catholic Church is often seen as being the
main bastion of conservatism, but Calvinism has been as influential in this area
as the Catholic Church. May Blood pointed out the changes that have happened
in the South of Ireland:
‘Women in the South attack the Church and they say things Northern
women couldn’t say. We haven’t got abortion in the North. Women are
not so free and liberal.’37

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Raising issues of sexuality and the family has brought feminists into conflict not
only with the clergy and politicians, but with wider sections of their own
communities. The feminist movement has nevertheless achieved some notable
successes in the area of sexuality. Divorce became easier in 1978, with the
introduction of the notion of ‘irretrievable breakdown’ of a marriage as grounds
for divorce. This was seen as a victory for feminist campaigning against the
opposition of the Catholic Church and elements of the judiciary (McWilliams
1991:83). Legislation was introduced in 1980 to make it possible for violent
men to be evicted from their homes, and women’s refuges started to gain funding
and support. The legislation was however restricted to married couples, and
many judges and magistrates expressed horror that men could be ‘thrown out
on to the street’ (ibid.: 84).
The strong influence of the Churches makes open discussion about sexual
matters difficult. As Eileen Bell, an Alliance Party member of Belfast council,
put it:
‘We need better sex education. Very few women are able to exercise a real
choice. We need a more realistic attitude to sex.’38
This point was echoed by Frances, a member of the Northern Ireland Abortion
Law Reform Association (NIALRA):
‘I want to see a society which is open about sexuality. Good sex education
would reduce the need for abortion. At the moment there is no support
for women who need abortions or who have gone through abortions.’39
Hostility to open debate around sexuality is illustrated by the public row over
the establishment of the Brook Advisory Centre in Belfast. The Centre, which
gives contraceptive advice to young people, has been picketed by Unionists and
Catholic and Protestant Churches for many months. Carol, a member of the
Women’s Issues Committee of the Unionist Party, in a statement which displayed
some confusion about the issues involved, explained her opposition to the Centre:
‘They give contraceptives to people as young as twelve. They teach sex
education but they don’t point out dangers of vaginal cancer from under-
age sex.’40
The ‘mainly Catholic’ Social Democratic and Labour Party has also refused to
support the Centre. The Party is divided on the issue, and after a debate, the
Party’s executive referred it back without a decision.41 Although contraception
is free and legal as it is in Britain, it is often difficult to obtain, especially for
young people. The need for the Brook Centre, which provides a service in
neutral territory, is acute. Siobhan explained the problems which young people
experience in her area:
‘GPs are often judgemental and refuse to prescribe contraceptives. People
are often afraid of visiting the Family Planning Clinic in case the neighbours

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see them. They don’t want to buy condoms in the local drug store. It’s
such a small community here, you are always being watched.’42
Many married women now use contraception regularly, and the birth rate for
both Protestant and Catholic families is falling (McWilliams 1991:87). They
may still be practising Catholics or Protestants but are making their own decisions
on this. This statement from Mary, a Catholic, is typical:
‘I’ve been married for twenty-two years. Attitudes have changed. When I
was married I felt I could not use contraception. Now I feel I have to talk
about it with my children.’43
Younger women face the most problems in gaining access to contraception.
They find it more difficult to go outside their own area for family planning,
and their GPs are generally more reluctant to prescribe it for them. Discussing
contraception openly is more difficult for young people starting a relationship.
As Siobhan says:
‘Younger people have a problem of confidence. They may not feel able to
ask a partner to use condoms.’44
The lack of alternatives open to young people in the inner-city ghettos may also
discourage young girls from seeking contraceptive advice. Pat, from Protestant
East Belfast, said:
‘There are a huge number of teenage pregnancies here. The culture is that
if you are single and you have no kids by the time you are in your mid
twenties, you are thought to be very odd.’45
Sexual orientation has been another area where there has been a great deal of
silence. The 1967 Homosexual Law Reform Act, which decriminalised consenting
sexual relations in private between men over twenty-one years old, was not
extended to Northern Ireland. The legislation was brought into line with British
law only following a ruling by the European Court in 1981 after a case had been
taken by Jeff Dudgeon, supported by the Northern Ireland Homosexual Law
Reform Campaign. In response to the case, Ian Paisley’s Free Presbyterian Church
organised a campaign to ‘Save Ulster from Sodomy’. The Catholic Church
continued to pronounce that ‘objectively homosexual acts are intrinsically and
gravely immoral’ (cited in Mc Williams 1991:81–3).
While the legal position is now the same as in Britain, to be openly gay
remains even more difficult in Northern Ireland. Some gay clubs have now
opened in neutral areas of Belfast, and Gay Switchboard and Lesbian Line operate.
But in the ghettos and outside the major cities, gay people remain isolated. Pat
from Protestant East Belfast said:
‘Lesbians couldn’t come out on the Street—it would be as bad here as in
Catholic areas.’46

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The reluctance to deal with these issues openly is illustrated by the following
incident which took place at a community meeting in nationalist Derry. A woman
who was at the meeting recalled:
‘At one stage a woman from the audience got up and said how proud she
was that her party, Sinn Fein, had no truck with homosexuality. There was
a Sinn Fein member on the platform and I could see his face drop. He was
forced to get up and confess that, actually, Sinn Fein had a policy of
supporting gay rights. They had obviously not thought it was worth
campaigning on this issue in areas like that.’47
Many gay people, like Trevor, leave for the major cities of England. Dublin,
which also required the intervention of the European Court to legalise
homosexuality, has developed over the past ten years as a more exciting centre
for gay men than Belfast. For Trevor, coming out as gay when he was at college
forced him to challenge other preconceptions. Although the 1967 Act had been
extended to Northern Ireland by then, gay men still felt threatened and insecure:
‘The gay community was mixed. There were so few of us, we couldn’t
afford to be divided by religion. We were fighting bigotry, claiming that it
was OK to be gay. You couldn’t then be a bigot about religion. You saw
the person not the religion.’48

Abortion
Abortion is the other ‘taboo’ subject in Northern Ireland. Meetings of the
Northern Ireland Abortion Law Reform Association (NIALRA) are often
picketed by anti-abortionists, who can be very threatening. The legal status of
abortion is unclear. The law governing abortion is the 1861 Offences Against
the Person Act which provides that:
Any person performing, attempting and/or assisting in an abortion…shall
be guilty of felony, and being convicted thereof shall be liable, at the
discretion of the court, to be kept in penal servitude for life.
(cited in Smyth 1992:40)
The Infant Life Preservation Act of 1929 allowed abortion after twenty-eight
weeks where there was a threat to the life of the mother. The Bourne Judgement
in England in 1938 established that abortions were legal in some circumstances
before twenty-eight weeks (in this case the woman had been raped). The Act in
force at the time was the 1861 Act, which is still the legal position in Northern
Ireland. The judgment therefore suggests that some abortions in Northern Ireland
could be legal. The law is so ambiguous, however, that though an estimated 250
to 500 abortions are carried out annually by doctors in Northern Ireland (ibid.:
42) these are not registered as such. Few doctors are prepared to challenge the
prevailing taboo and openly acknowledge performing abortions. There is no

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guarantee that women made pregnant as a result of rape, or whose life is in

danger, will be able to obtain an abortion. NIALRA would like it to be made
official policy that terminations are registered, so that the number of terminations
could be made available. According to a spokesperson: ‘Private hospitals do
terminations. You can always get it if you pay’.49 NIALRA estimates that a
minimum of ten women travel daily to Britain for abortions. There are relatively
few deaths or back street abortions because Northern Ireland ‘exports abortion’.50
No major political party supports abortion, and they are reluctant to discuss
the issue, as the following statements from spokespeople from the main political
parties suggest:
‘There is no pressure to discuss the issue. I am very happy with the present
policy.’ (Ulster Unionist Party, member of the Women’s Council)51
‘I am opposed to the introduction of the 1967 Act, but abortion should be
made more available. It would split the party, but there is no hold on it if
the branches wished to raise it.’ (SDLP, Secretary of Women’s Group)52
‘Alliance does not have a policy, we don’t operate a whip on the issue.
Some members are fundamentally against, others believe in abortion on
demand. We are asking for the 1967 Act to be reviewed. David Alton [an
antiabortion British MP] is a great friend of ours.’ (Alliance Party, member
of Belfast City Council)53
During the 1980s, the Women’s Department of Sinn Fein succeeded in getting
the Party to adopt a pro-choice policy. This policy was later abandoned in favour
of a more restrictive policy. The Party is opposed to the extension of the 1967
Act. The small Unionist parties, in spite of their espousal of ‘pro-woman’ policies,
have not yet formulated policies on abortion.
Reluctance to discuss the issue is echoed in the trade union movement. The
Northern Committee of the Irish Congress of Trade Unions (ICTU), to which
Northern Ireland trades unions are affiliated, has no policy on abortion. Fear of
splitting the membership again prevents any serious discussion. British-based
unions such as UNISON, however, have policies supporting the right to choose.
UNISON has a mainly female membership, and unusually, a female regional
officer, Inez McCormack, who has been a major campaigner on equality issues.
The union has provided a supportive network for its members, and a wideranging
education programme. The Union’s women’s committee organised an Oral
Health and History Project which culminated in the publication of Women’s Voices
(N UPE 1992). The project raised ‘taboo’ issues such as sexuality and
contraception. Although the book is cautious about abortion, on which they
‘felt no more comfortable with it than most others’, the group was forced to
confront accepted attitudes:
the realisation that there had been no new evaluation of a law which ruled
the lives of women more than 100 years ago and continues to do so, leaves

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us disturbed. When the life-threatening alternatives presented to our great-

grandmothers are still amongst those sought out by women today, then
condemnation is neither appropriate nor relevant.
(NUPE 1992:111)
One of the book’s authors, Mary Ferris, is a domestic at the Royal Victoria
Hospital and now on the Union’s executive. She told me:
‘The Women in History Project made me think about the issue for the
first time. I’d never been in a situation to need an abortion. Now I support
the right to choose—we haven’t got the right to dictate to people.’54
The close links of the Churches to many community groups helps to strangle
discussion of the issue. Ann Hope, now a prominent trade unionist, was invited
to speak to a women’s group on her work with the Workers’ Education
Association:
‘I was told I could not mention abortion or contraception because the
parish priest forbad it. I told them I couldn’t do the talk under those
conditions.’55
The sensitivity of the issue has confined the campaign for abortion to a small
group. The Northern Ireland Abortion Law Reform Association (NIALRA)
founded in 1984, campaigns for the introduction of the 1967 Abortion Act into
Northern Ireland. The organisation held a successful ‘Tribunal’ in 1987 to
‘challenge the hypocrisy of society’ on the issue (NIALRA 1989:2). The Tribunal
brought together a relatively large group, but the campaign is now reduced to a
small number of hard-core activists. Its campaigning work is beset with practical
difficulties as a result of the silence on the issue. There have been problems even
in establishing an address for the campaign:
‘We have not been able to use the women’s centres for a base because this
would have caused problems for them with funding.’56
The issue has presented difficulties for women’s groups. While the openly feminist
groups have supported abortion rights, community-based women’s centres have
had to play a much more cautious role. The problem of anonymity also makes
women reluctant to discuss the issue with staff and volunteers they may know
well in the community. Many women nevertheless come to the women’s centres
for advice on unwanted pregnancies, but they are not able to offer this openly.
Siobhan said:
‘Abortion is a very difficult issue in this area. We take a non-condemnatory
attitude, but we can’t offer much practical support.’57
The Downtown Women’s centre, the only centre in the ‘neutral’ city centre, has
offered support and advice on abortion to women. Many women are referred to
the centre unofficially by advice workers from the community-based centres.

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

The centre recently lost its funding from Belfast City Council, which has meant
that all its advice work has had to close. Judith, who works at the centre, explained:
‘We used to be a lifeline for women. Some of them were desperate, and
Downtown was the only place where they could go for help. Last week a
woman came to the centre with her young daughter who was fourteen
weeks pregnant. She was absolutely frantic. We’re not officially open any
more but we had to do what we could. There is nowhere else.’58
Access to legal abortion in Northern Ireland would require an act of the British
Parliament. The Conservative Government, with its reliance on Unionist support,
has had no desire to embark on such a controversial move. Some Labour MPs
have expressed an interest in pursuing the matter, but no bill has been introduced
into parliament. Labour Party policy is pro-choice, and its official policy is to
extend the 1967 Act. There have, however, been moves recently to distance the
party from that policy. The close relation which Mo Mowlam, Northern Ireland
spokesperson, has built up with unionists suggests that abortion will be well
down the agenda. Her researcher told me:
‘Mo is personally in favour of extending the Act, but we don’t see it as our
job to dictate to people in Northern Ireland. Our general policy in relation
to the peace process is to see people becoming more involved in their own
political decisions. It has got to come from the political parties there. We
have got to encourage the support that is shown in opinion polls for abortion
to be translated into a change of policy in the political parties. We see our
role as to support people who are raising the issue, but not to say this is
what you must do.’59
Given the structure of party politics in Northern Ireland, it is extremely unlikely
that the major parties will vote to support abortion rights in the foreseeable
future. When abortion was debated in the Northern Ireland Assembly in 1984,
it rejected the extension of the 1967 Act by a majority of twenty to one. Opinion
poll evidence on the subject has been mixed. The Social Attitudes Survey in
1990–91 suggested that attitudes to abortion were more conservative than in
Britain. Although less than a third supported a pro-choice position, a large majority
favoured abortion where there was a danger to the woman’s health, if she had
been raped, or if there was a strong chance that the baby had a genetic disorder
(Montgomery and Davies 1991:83). Public opinion has, however, never been
properly tested in Northern Ireland. As NIALRA argues:
In England, the 1967 Act was introduced without a majority of the people
demanding it. It was a response to the most pressing demand of all—the
demand of women seeking abortions. At the current rate, fifteen out of
every one hundred women in Northern Ireland will have an abortion
during their lives. …It is that demand which is the most compelling reason
for extending the 1967 Act.
(NIALRA 1992:45)
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 SOCIAL POLICY AND SOCIAL DIVISIONS

CONCLUSION
Social policy in Northern Ireland has both been shaped by gender and sectarian
divisions, and has also been important in shaping and sustaining them. Official
policy has accommodated to the sectarian divide, even where it has been officially
‘religion blind’, and many of the policies of the Direct Rule period have served
to entrench the separation of the two communities further.
Northern Ireland’s model of social policy has been based on the British model,
which is still based on the notion of the ‘male breadwinner’. The restructuring
of welfare in the 1980s brought an explicit aim of restoring family and community
responsibility for the care of dependent people. This has inevitably shifted the
burden onto unpaid female labour, while underpinning an expansion of part-
time, poorly paid and insecure female employment.
It is precisely in the areas which most affect women’s rights and status that
Northern Ireland’s social policy has diverged most markedly from the British
model. Facilities for childcare, and for care of the elderly and others who need
care are more poorly developed. Much of the informal welfare available is
provided through the Churches. Predominantly male politicians have also been
able to mark out their differences by denying women the right to control their
own fertility. Women have fought for the right to gain sexual autonomy, but
abortion remains illegal, and access to sex education and contraception remains
uneven and difficult for many.

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 6

EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY
IN THE 1990s

Women’s employment in Northern Ireland has increased dramatically in the

past twenty years, with 58 per cent of women now in the labour force (EOCNI
1995:11). The main concern of policy makers and researchers has, however,
been with male employment, and particularly the religious differential in
unemployment rates. According to the Chair of the Fair Employment
Commission:
‘We would not have the legislation if it wasn’t for that, and we will be
judged by our ability to change it.’1
The prevailing view has been that Catholic men are disadvantaged by their
religion, but Catholic women are disadvantaged by their sex. At first glance, the
figures bear this out. Two of the leading researchers in this area argue that the
female profiles reveal comparatively small differences between Protestants and
Catholics ‘albeit in the general context of the disadvantaged position of females
in the labour market’ (Osborne and Cormack 1991:60). Catholic women have
higher unemployment than Protestant women, but the difference is smaller than
for men. This picture coincides with the conclusions of many researchers on
ethnic divisions in Britain:
Within western societies, gender divisions are more important for women
than ethnic divisions in terms of labour market subordination. In
employment terms, migrant or ethnic women are usually closer to the
female population as a whole than to ethnic men in the type of wage-
labour performed.
(Anthias and Yuval Davis 1983:69)
These conclusions have been challenged, for example by Bruegel (1989). Using
official statistics for Britain, she showed that when the statistics were examined
more closely to ensure comparability, the disadvantage suffered by black women
relative to white women is actually greater than that for men. Tang Nain (1991)
has shown that sexism and racism intersect, creating specific obstacles to the
labour market for black women. Similar processes are at work in the Northern
Ireland labour market, connecting gender and religious inequalities.

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

Research for the Fair Employment Commission (FEC) has had little to say
about gender inequalities. Where these are discussed, for example in Aunger’s
work on the relation between Catholic occupations and female occupations, these
have not led to any specific recommendations. Much of the FEC’s research has
concentrated on male employment and none has made gender a central focus.
Preoccupation with male employment is not only a result of the greater
differentials in official figures. It also reflects society’s undervaluation of women’s
work. In spite of the growing importance of women’s paid labour, it is still considered
secondary. The ideology of the ‘male breadwinner’ continues to permeate thinking
and policy making in relation to the labour market in Britain and Northern Ireland.
The prevailing view that women from the two communities have common
experiences in paid labour is reflected in most research on gender and
employment. Virtually all work on women’s employment has ignored religion
(see e.g. McGuire 1987; Barry and Jackson 1988; Morrissey 1991). A study by
Cockburn (1991) on exclusionary practices against women includes a substantial
section on Northern Ireland, but makes no mention of religion although she
discusses ethnicity in the sections on Britain.
The EOCNI’s research has rarely acknowledged religious divisions. An early
exception was Janet Trewsdale’s analysis of gender and religious divisions in the
labour market based on 1981 Census data (Trewsdale 1983). This represented
an important breakthrough, but the analysis suffers from the limitations inherent
in mainstream economic theorising, which takes as ‘given’ factors (such as the
location of employment opportunities) which need to be explained. Trewsdale
concluded that Catholic women suffer disadvantage on account of their sex but
not their religion. More recently, Mc Williams (1991) looked at the specific
disadvantage faced by Catholic women in gaining access to the labour market.
She showed that religious and sexual disadvantage combined to make it more
difficult for Catholic women to remain in paid work.
These studies were based on officially published statistics. No detailed study
of sectarianism in the workplace has been produced comparable to those on
gender such as Cockburn’s (1983, 1991); or those of McLaughlin and Ingram
(1991) or Maguire (1989) in relation to Northern Ireland. In 1990 the EOCNI
commissioned a research project of women’s employment experiences, based
on a survey of nearly 1,000 women. The study was the basis for a book on
Women’s Working Lives (Kremer and Montgomery 1993). The chapters covered a
range of issues in relation to paid and unpaid work, but none specifically addressed
religion. It was not until 1995 that the EOCNI funded a project to reanalyse the
data focusing on the religious differences. The report from this study concluded
that ‘the disadvantages faced by women in the Catholic community are deeper
than those faced by Protestant women’ (Davies et al. 1995:46).
This chapter will examine this proposition, arguing that the differential
positions of Catholic and Protestant women in employment arise from the
intersection of gender and religious inequality in the labour market, and in the
wider society. The first section gives an overview of changes in patterns of labour

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market inequality over the period of Direct Rule. The second section gives a
brief summary of feminist contributions to understanding gendered work. The
final section draws on the evidence presented in section one, and some of the
concepts discussed in section two, to suggest specific ways in which gender and
religious inequalities have structured labour market opportunities for women.

CHANGING PATTERNS OF EM PLOYMENT

Examination of patterns of religious and gender inequalities in the period since
Direct Rule shows continuities as well as change, most obviously in the unemployment
differential. The discussion in this section is based mainly on official figures. The
Census of Population has the most comprehensive coverage, and gives details of
economic activity, unemployment and occupational groupings, broken down by
gender and religion. The inclusion of a question on religion since 1971 allows some
comparison over time. There are however problems with analysing religion from
the Census, due both to non-response rates and the categories used.2

Table 6.1 Religious composition of the population,

1971–91 (%)

Note: Figures in brackets refer to proportion of

Catholics and Protestants when other categories
are excluded. Protestant includes ‘Other
Denominations’.
Source: Census of Population for 1981 (Religion
Report); 1991 (Summary Report)

The proportion of Catholics has risen during the period. Those stating their
religion as Catholic increased from less than a third in 1971 to nearly 40 per
cent in 1991. This change needs to be borne in mind when discussing the relative
underrepresentation of Catholics in employment. The high refusal rate in 1981
is reflected in a fall in the figures for the Catholic proportion of the population.
Cormack et al. (1993:14) quote higher proportions for the 1981 Catholic
population, based on calculations that assumed a higher refusal rate for Catholics.
Other sources include the Continuous Household Survey, which began in 1983.
It samples approximately 1 per cent of households annually, and includes a religion
question. The Labour Force Survey, conducted annually in all EC Member States,
also samples 1 per cent of domestic properties. In Northern Ireland it includes a
religion question. Comparison of LFS results for different years shows substantial
changes in some indicators, suggesting that the results should be treated with caution

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

due to sampling problems.3 The Labour Force Survey includes a more detailed
breakdown of unemployment and economic activity than the Census: it is therefore
used below to supplement Census data for 1991. Some unpublished data from the
EOCNI’s 1990 survey has also been used in this section and in section three.

Access to the labour market

Unemployment
The male unemployment differential between Catholic and Protestant is the
key target of policy and the indicator most anxiously watched. It is also the
indicator which appears to have changed least over the past twenty years. While
unemployment has risen with economic decline, it has not produced ‘equality of
misery’ (Osborne and Cormack 1987:71). The differential has remained
remarkably constant since 1971 in percentage terms.

Table 6.2 Religion and unemployment, 1971–91 (%)

Source: Figures for 1971 and 1981 from Osborne and Cormack 1987:72; figures for
1991 calculated from 1991 Census (Summary Report)

The proportionate differential between Protestants and Catholics decreased

slightly in the 1970s as the general level of unemployment grew, although in
absolute terms it increased by over seven points for men, and four for women.
The proportionate and absolute gap for men is lower in 1991, while it has risen
slightly for women. The 1991 Census introduced a new category—‘on a
government employment or training scheme’—which included a higher proportion
of Catholics. If this group is added to those out of work, the proportion of
Catholic men out of work rises to 31.46 per cent and of Protestants to 14.22 per
cent (both higher than in 1981). The female figures are 16.71 per cent for Catholics
and 9.35 per cent for Protestants (slightly below the 1981 rates).
The officially recognised unemployment differential for women is considerably
lower than for men, but Catholic women’s unemployment has remained nearly
double that of Protestants, and has also been consistently higher than that of
Protestant men. The high unemployment rate of Catholic women is clearly
related to religion rather than to any general disadvantage as a result of gender.
The notorious tendency for female unemployment to be underreported may
also have implications for the religious differential.

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

The Labour Force Survey for 1991 gives different estimates of unemployment,
producing a differential of 2.56 for men, and 1.83 for women. The 1993 survey
shows higher levels of Protestant unemployment, which has reduced the
differentials.

Table 6.3 Religion and unemployment, 1991 and 1993 (%)

Source: Labour Force Surveys 1991 and 1993

Rowthorn and Wayne used unpublished data from the 1981 Census to show
that Catholic unemployment was higher in every District Council area except
Castlereagh. This was true for both men and women, except for one area where
Protestant female unemployment was higher. In Belfast, wards where
unemployment was over 25 per cent contained 57 per cent of the city’s Catholic
population, and 16 per cent of the Protestant population in 1981 (Rowthorn
and Wayne 1988:117). The decline of Protestant employment has meant that
some heavily Protestant wards now have very high unemployment rates. The
1991 Census showed that the five wards with the highest male unemployment
were over 99 per cent Catholic (excluding none stated and none). The same
wards (in a different order) had the highest female unemployment. The picture
is more mixed after this: four wards with overwhelming Protestant majorities
had unemployment rates of over 36 per cent. Only two wards with Catholic
majorities (Fortwilliam, 84.96 per cent and Finaghy, 62.56 per cent) are included
in the thirteen with male unemployment below 10 per cent.
Among the unemployed, Catholics are more likely to be unemployed for
long periods. More than half (51 per cent) of Protestants unemployed in 1993
had been seeking work for less than a year, compared with 35 per cent of
Catholics. The proportion of Catholics (30 per cent) unemployed for more than
four years was almost double that of Protestants (16 per cent) (PPRU 1993).

Age profile of the unemployed

Differences in levels of unemployment between the two communities are
complicated by age as well as by gender. The Labour Force Survey data (see Table
6.5) reveal that unemployment among Protestant men is highest for young men—
almost double that of older Protestant men. Unemployment among Catholics
remains much higher than for Protestants in all age groups. The religious differential
among men therefore appears greatest in the middle years. Among women,

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

Table 6.4 Unemployment in Belfast, 1991 : wards with male unemployment rates over
30 per cent

Source: Calculated from 1991 Census

Table 6.5 Unemployment rates by age group, 1991

Source: Labour Force Survey 1991

unemployment is also most severe for the younger age groups in both communities,
though less than the male rates. For the over-twenty-five years age group, Catholic
women have higher unemployment rates than Protestant men.

Education and unemployment

Unemployment is closely related to the level of education a person has attained,
with the highest absolute level of unemployment occurring among those with
no formal academic qualifications. The relationship between educational

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

attainment, religion and gender is not clear-cut, however. According to the 1991
Census, the lowest differential in unemployment between Protestants and
Catholics was between women with University degrees; the differential for men,
though slightly higher than for women, was also least at this level.4 This is the
only group in which Catholic unemployment is less than twice the Protestant
rate. After that, the picture becomes more complicated. In general the religious
differential is most pronounced for both women and men at the middle levels of
attainment, but the rank ordering is not consistent for women and men, nor is it
a simple linear progression.

Table 6.6a Male unemployment rates by religion and educational level, 1991 (%)

Table 6.6b Female unemployment rates by religion and educational level, 1991 (%)

Source: 1991 Census (Summary Report)

These figures confirm the findings of the Policy Studies Institute (PSI) Report,
that education explains little of the religious difference in unemployment. This
study found that education accounted for only 1.4 per cent of the observed
religious differential of 20.2 per cent at the time (SACHR 1987:24–35). For
Catholics, then, a higher education qualification considerably reduces the chance
of unemployment both absolutely and relative to Protestants. But qualifications
are by no means a secure passport to employment.

Economic activity
In common with all European countries, female labour force participation in
Northern Ireland has increased over the past twenty years, while male has

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declined. Cormack et al. (1993) used Census data to calculate the changes in
activity rates. These suggest that the Catholic male activity rate in 1991 was
higher than the Protestant rate, with the female Catholic rate slightly lower than
the Protestant.

Table 6.7 Religion and economic activity, 1971–91 (%)

Source: Cormack et al 1993:17

The Census figures are not however particularly useful in relation to labour
force participation, since the economically active are taken as a proportion of all
people over the age of sixteen. The 1991 Census shows that the proportion of
Catholics in the population drops dramatically in the older age groups, with
well under a third of Catholics in each age group above retirement age. This
distorts the figures, suggesting higher Catholic activity rates relative to Protestant.
The more useful definition of economic activity is that used in the Labour Force
Survey—which includes only those of working age. According to the 1991 survey,
Catholic activity (both male and female) remained significantly lower than
Protestant. The EOCNI survey also showed higher activity rates for Protestant
women: 69.5 per cent compared with 60.8 per cent for Catholics (higher than
the Labour Force Survey (PPRU) but a similar differential).

Table 6.8 Economic activity rate by religion.

1991 (%)

Source: Labour Force Survey Religion Report 1991

Economic activity by age group

Activity rates also show distinctive paths for the two communities when examined
by age group. The lower participation of Catholics in the youngest age group is
partially explained by the greater number who remain in education. Another

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difference is that Catholic women’s participation fell at age 35–44 while the
Protestant level remained constant. This is the age when many women are still
looking after children, and the larger family size of Catholics may impact on
their economic activity. The differential for men is higher in the older age groups,
suggesting the effect of discouragement through long-term unemployment.

Table 6.9 Economic activity by age group, 1991 (%)

Source: Labour Force Survey 1991

The population in work

The lower Catholic activity rate, compounded with their higher unemployment
rate, reduces the proportion of Catholics in work. According to 1991 LFS figures,
Catholic men were slightly less likely to be in work than Protestant women, in
spite of a higher activity rate. Protestant men are most likely to be in work, and
Catholic women least. The gap between Catholics and Protestants for both men
and women is greatest for the youngest age group and for the middle years
(aged 35–44).

Table 6.10 Proportion of population of working age in work,

1991 (%)

Source: Labour Force Survey Religion Report 1991

Part-time work
The proportion of jobs which are part time in Northern Ireland remains lower
than in Britain (MeWilliams 1991:32; Abraham et al. 1994:7), but is increasing.
Trewsdale’s study (1992) of the growth of part-time work between 1971 and 1989
showed that the typical part-time worker is a married women over thirty-five

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years of age, in the service sector. But 23.8 per cent of part-time workers in 1992
were men, of whom nearly half were over fifty-five years of age.5 Catholic men are
more likely than Protestants to be working part time; the reverse is true for women.

Table 6.11 Full-time employment—employees working

over 30 hours as percentage of all employees,
1991

Source: Labour Force Survey Religion Report 1991

The relatively high rate of part-time work among Catholic men reflects the
difficulties they face in finding full-time employment. Taken together with the
percentage in employment in each community, it further increases the differences
in the economic prospects of Catholic and Protestant men.

Table 6.12 Proportion of population of working age in

full-time work, 1991 (%)

Source: Calculated from Tables 6.10 and 6.11

Only just over half of Catholic men of working age were in full-time employment
in 1991, compared to over three-quarters of Protestant men. If the incidence of part-
time work were constant throughout the age groups, this would imply that less than
half, 48.7 per cent, of Catholic men over forty-four years of age were in full-time
work. Since male part-time workers are disproportionately in older age groups, the
true figure is likely to be even lower than this. The differential in proportions working
full time is reduced for women, since Protestant women are more likely than Catholics
to work part time. The EOCNI’s survey also found that Protestant women were
more likely to be working than Catholics, but of those employed, Protestants were
more likely to work part time (Davies et al. 1995:24).
A growing number of jobs in Northern Ireland are now in what is broadly
defined as ‘atypical work’. This category includes part-time work which can
either be secure and permanent, or temporary with little or no security. The
definition also includes fixed-term contracts, temporary and casual work, agency

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

work, and home working (Abraham et al. 1994:51). This kind of work is
predominantly female. A survey of atypical work for the Women’s Committee
of the ICTU found a sharp division between professionals, most of whom work
in the public sector and had regular employment and contracts; and non-
professionals who had few of these benefits. This reflects the different meanings
of the term ‘flexibility’; those with skills and qualifications are in a position to
use flexibility to fit in with their own lives. For those without marketable skills,
flexibility is a euphemism for casualisation.

Employment
Osborne and Cormack argue that Catholic disadvantage is concentrated mainly
in the unemployment differential, and that the pattern of employment for those in
work is more equal (Osborne and Cormack 1987:17). Unemployment shows a
larger, and more consistent, difference than any other indicator. The labour market
nevertheless remains highly structured by religion and gender, in spite of changes
of the past two decades which have reduced some of the more glaring differences.

Sectoral distribution
An FEA analysis of the 1971 Census (1977) showed substantial overrepresentation
of Protestants in some sectors, particularly those with higher status. In general
the most heavily Protestant-dominated sectors were also male-dominated, but
there were some specifically Protestant female and Catholic male areas.
Shipbuilding, engineering and public utilities were traditionally the strongholds
of Protestant male manual workers, while Protestant males also predominated
in public administration. The insurance and banking sectors were dominated by
Protestant men and women, while distribution was a major employer of Protestant
women—accounting for 16.6 per cent of female employment—of which 70.4 per
cent (76.0 per cent excluding ‘not stated’) was Protestant. Catholic men dominated
the construction sector.
Figures for later periods are not strictly comparable with the 1971 data, since
the classification has changed. Osborne and Cormack’s analysis of the 1981 Census
shows that five sub-divisions accounted for nearly half of both Protestant and
Catholic male employment. Four of these were the same for both groups, but their
order of importance was different. In 1991 these specialisms remained, although
there had been some narrowing of the differences between the broad groups.
The differences between the two religious groups in employment in public
administration and defence are mainly accounted for by the overwhelmingly
Protestant composition of the security forces. This sector’s importance increased
for Protestant men, and fell for Catholics, reflecting the changed priorities of
public spending, with security taking a higher proportion of the total. The decline
in the traditional industrial base, and the rise in services, is illustrated by the fall
in the proportion employed in manufacture of transport equipment, the only

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Table 6.13 Male employment by industrial order, 1981 and 1991 (% of employees in
each sector)

Source: Osborne and Cormack 1987:42–3:1991 Census (Religion Report)

manufacturing sector included in the top five. This group includes the Protestant
strongholds Short Brothers and Harland and Wolff.
Women work in a narrower range of occupations than men, with a heavy
concentration in services. In 1981, Protestant women continued to be
overrepresented in finance and distribution, while Catholics were overrepresented
in education, health and other caring work. Medical and other health services
(including nursing) employed 19.2 per cent of Catholic women compared to
13.5 per cent of Protestants. Education employed 18.2 per cent and 13.4 per
cent respectively (Osborne and Cormack 1987:45). The 1991 Census showed a
continuation of these trends, with the same five sectors predominating in each
community. Catholic women were more concentrated than Protestant women
in education (14.4 per cent and 10.9 per cent) and medical and other health
service (18.1 per cent and 13.7 per cent).

Occupation
Occupation is closely tied to status and class. Aunger, who carried out a pioneering
study of the 1971 Census, concluded that:
Protestants are disproportionately represented in the non-manual and skilled
manual occupations, while Catholics are disproportionately represented
only in the semi-skilled, unskilled and unemployed classes. …It is
particularly noteworthy that, while the median Protestant is a skilled manual
worker, the median Catholic is a semi-skilled manual worker.
(cited in FEA 1977:12)

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

He also observed that:

those non-manual occupations which have the largest proportions of
Catholics, relative to the total number employed in the occupation, tend
to be lower status occupations compared to those which have the highest
proportions of Protestants.
(ibid.: 13)
He attributed the existence of a Catholic middle class to the high degree of
social segregation, which ensured that professionals and small business people
were needed to service their communities. Aunger also pointed out that ‘Catholic
occupations’ tend to be female and ‘Protestant occupations’ male. This association
of Catholic with female occupations is a reflection of their low status.
Substantial changes in the way occupations are classified since 1971, mean
direct comparisons over time are not possible. Calculations from the 1981 Census,
when the categories had been modified, show that similar patterns persisted.
In their study of the 1981 Census, Osborne and Cormack (1987:56) suggest
that, although in general Catholic occupations are of low status, three of the
most common Catholic occupations are in high status groups (managerial,
supervisory and legal), which represents a significant advance over 1971. The
managerial and supervisory professions referred to are relatively low status within
these groups (managers of hotels and clubs, which includes publicans—a
traditional Catholic occupation; and catering supervisor—a job which is 60 per
cent female). A more appropriate indicator would be management as a whole.

Table 6.14a Catholic and Protestant occupations. 1971

Source: FEA 1977:13

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

Table 6.14b Catholic and Protestant occupations, 1981

Source: Calculated from 1981 Census (Religion Report)

Women represented 13 per cent of this group, and Catholics are in a minority of
21 per cent. Catholics have traditionally been well represented in the law, since
legal professionals tend to serve their own community.
Nursing is a ‘Catholic women’s occupation’ which provided increasing
opportunities as the welfare state expanded. It has also become a ‘Catholic male’
occupation, with Catholics accounting for well over half (59 per cent) of male
employees. Catholic males were also overrepresented in school teaching (43 per
cent), but underrepresented as lecturers in higher education (19.5 per cent). The
latter is of higher status, and also religiously mixed, whereas at primary and
secondary level education is segregated. The figures reflect the tendency for
Catholic men to enter traditionally ‘female’ occupations as a result of exclusion
from the more ‘male’ occupations.
Occupational classification changed yet again at the beginning of the 1990s,
with the previous classification being replaced with nine groups, ‘with an explicitly
hierarchical structure’ (PPRU Labour Force Survey 1991:17). The occupational
categories cut across many of the traditional boundaries of Catholic and Protestant
occupations. They combine for example personal services (a ‘Catholic’ area)
with protective services (a ‘Protestant’ area). The broad groups show continued
Catholic underrepresentation in the highest status occupation—managers and
administrators; and in the ‘Protestant occupations’ of clerical, Standard
Occupational Classification (SOC) 4, and sales (SOC7).
Gallagher et al. (1994) used unpublished data from the Census to examine
the composition of the sub-categories (or Unit Groups) of the occupational groups
(SOCs). Tables 6.16a and b use some of these to illustrate continuing patterns of
specialisation.

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

Table 6.15 Religion and occupation, 1991 (% of employees in each SOC)

Source: Gallagher et al 1994:29

Earnings
Information on income differentials between Protestants and Catholics is limited,
and has been little analysed. Most data are disaggregated by either sex (e.g. data
on wages and salaries) or by religion (e.g. CHS data on family expenditure), but
very little are available for both. The existence of patterns of gender and religious
disadvantage in the labour market however, clearly point to the existence of
lower levels of income and standard of living, both for Catholic women, and for
Catholic families as a whole.

Table 6.16a Religion and occupational group: selected unit groups.

1991, men

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

Table 6.16b Religion and occupational group: selected unit groups,

1991, women

Source: Gallagher et al. 1994:30–3

The latest data available from the Family Expenditure Survey, for 1994–95,
showed that average income for Protestant households was 15 per cent above
that of Catholic households (Table 6.17). The figures show a marked disparity
in the source of household income; the greatest difference is in relation to social
security benefit, where the Catholic share is 50 per cent above that of Protestants.

Table 6.17 Source of household income by religion of head of

household

Source: PPRU Monitor, Family Expenditure Survey, 1995

Average earnings for women are lower than men’s. For both manual and non-
manual occupations, women earn around three-quarters of male earnings. Since
more women than men are in the higher paid non-manual groups, average earnings
for all women are closer to the male average, at 84.6 per cent of the male rate. The
difference is slightly less than in Britain, but this is a result of the lower pay of

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Table 6.18 Average gross hourly earnings (pence per hour excluding
overtime), full-time employees, adult rates, 1994

Source: Women and Men in Northern Ireland EOCNI 1995

Northern Irish men. Earnings for each group in Northern Ireland are considerably
below those for Britain.
Davies et al. (1995) analysed the results of the 1990 EOCNI survey which
showed substantial differences in women’s weekly earnings by religion. Over 50
per cent of those in work earned less than £100 weekly, but the figure was 53.4
per cent for Protestants, and 60.9 per cent for Catholics. This is in spite of the
fact that the Protestant group included a higher proportion of part-time workers.
At the top end, Catholics were better represented, with 12.6 per cent earning
over £200 weekly, compared with 9.4 per cent of Protestants (Davies et al.
1995:43).
Their report quotes a paper by Borooah et al. (1994) which examined Family
Expenditure Survey data, showing that Catholics had a lower income relative to
Protestants, ‘and that this held true even when the focus narrowed to families of
particular types’ (cited in Davies et al. 1995:42)—so that Catholics had lower
incomes than Protestants for each category, such as employed, unemployed or
self-employed. While much of the difference was ascribed to labour market
characteristics, as much as 18 per cent was attributed to ‘characteristics being
rewarded at different rates’ (ibid.).

FEMINISM AND THE LABOUR MARKET

As women’s involvement in the paid labour force has increased, a growing literature
has developed which has focused on gender inequality in work. Interest has centred
on women’s access to work; status and rewards in work; and the ways in which
certain types of work have become ‘women’s work’ (see e.g. Amsden 1980; Feminist
Review 1986; Beechey 1987; Walby 1986, 1990; Witz 1993). Some of the key
debates have been around the relative importance of the family or the workplace
as the main source of women’s oppression (‘private’ versus ‘public patriarchy’);
and whether men (or patriarchy) or capitalism are primarily responsible for

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maintaining women’s subordination. More recently, attention has focused on the

differences between women in their relations to the labour market, particularly
the ways in which gender inequalities are shaped by ethnicity.

The family and gender subordination

Liberalism
Liberal thought, which is the foundation of mainstream political and economic
theory, excludes serious analysis of the family. Liberalism developed with the
transition to industrial capitalism, which brought the separation of production
from the family. The economy became the public sphere of production, distribution,
and exchange of commodities through the market. The separation of workplace
from the home made it difficult or impossible to combine domestic labour with
productive labour. Responsibility for the maintenance and reproduction of labour
was left to the private sphere of the family. Socially valued work became identified
with paid work, while reproductive labour was unwaged, and undervalued. As
women’s role was increasingly identified with the private sphere, they were
excluded from full political and economic citizenship (Pateman 1988).
The public sphere became the exclusive concern of political and economic
theory. The private sphere was deemed outside the scope of scientific analysis.
The ‘altruism’ of the family is the antithesis of the individualist values of the
market place (Barrett and Mclntosh 1982). Liberal thought takes as its starting
point the ‘rational’ individual, unencumbered by domestic ties. At the same
time, liberals assume a household sexual division of labour in which domestic
labour is self-evidently women’s work. Waylen’s critique of neo-liberal economics
is applicable to liberal thought in general:
There is obviously a contradiction here: on the one hand, individuals are
the basic units of society, interacting in the free market, but, on the other
hand, it is only the male head of the household who behaves as an
individual…. The main implication…is that the doctrine of the individual
becomes the doctrine of the male, as the sex which can enjoy the ‘rights’
and ‘privileges’ of the free market.
(Waylen 1986:95–6)
These tensions have emerged more explicitly in recent new right thinking, where
individualism in the economic sphere has been accompanied by conservative
rhetoric on the family (David 1986). The contradiction between economic
freedom and ‘traditional’ values can be reconciled only if women are excluded
from full participation in economic life.
Within the liberal paradigm, scope for analysing gender inequalities is limited.
Conventional economics has explained wage differentials by individual differences
in ‘human capital’. In this view discrimination is irrational since it undermines
profitability. Liberal feminists recognise the existence of inequalities, and argue

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for measures to combat discrimination against individuals. In addition, they

have distinguished between ‘sex role’ and ‘gender role’, arguing that women’s
horizons are limited by socialisation which encourages them to see their primary
role as wives and mothers. The policy implications of this position are
antidiscriminatory legislation, fair employment procedures, and positive measures
to encourage girls to take up ‘male’ occupations.
The growth of women’s employment in the post-war period led to concern
with the pressures placed on women by their ‘dual role’ as workers and mothers
(Myrdal and Klein 1970). These problems were seen as essentially a dilemma
for the individual woman, a conflict of roles, which she will be able to overcome
more or less satisfactorily. The view of childcare as a private, individual problem
rather than a social question is central to new right thinking in Britain. It has
underpinned increasing disparities between women in employment: between
those who can afford to pay for childcare, and thus maintain a career; and those
for whom paid work is fitted around domestic responsibilities, and who are
therefore confined to insecure and low-status employment.

Feminism and the family

The feminist movements which flourished at the end of the nineteenth and
early twentieth centuries were primarily concerned with gaining political rights
for women, particularly the vote, and with entry to education and the professions.
There was little challenge to traditional views of the family either as an economic
unit, or in terms of conventional norms of sexuality.
The new—or ‘second wave’—feminist movements which developed in the 1970s
have been much more concerned with economic rights. More recently the
emphasis has been on sexuality, and making visible such previously taboo subjects
as domestic violence, marital rape and incest. Both have challenged the family
structures which liberals—and many early feminists—took for granted.
Feminists have pointed to the family wage—the ‘idea that an adult man ought
to earn enough to enable him to support a wife and children’ (Barrett and
Mclntosh 1980:51)—as central to women’s unequal economic status. The family
wage became established during the nineteenth century, when
the exclusion of women and the demand for a breadwinner’s wage for
men was an industrial bargaining strategy, enabling men to make sectional
gains while women provided employers with a pool of casual labour at
belowsubsistence wages. For women confronted by the limited opportunities
of this labour market, marriage could afford better chances of survival.
(Gray 1981:39)
Gray’s discussion of the labour aristocracy in Victorian England showed the
gendered nature of divisions within the working class. The ‘respectable’ working-
class man was able to ape the middle classes in supporting a non-waged wife.
The welfare state was constructed on the assumption of women’s dependence

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on the male wage (Williams 1989). The tax and benefit system continues to
treat women in terms of their marital status rather than as individuals in their
own right.
Some feminists have argued that working-class women gained from the
increased male wage, which allowed them to withdraw from the labour force
(Humphries 1977): but others see the family wage as reinforcing women’s
dependency, and the source of women’s unequal status both in paid work and
in the home, where their labour is unwaged and therefore invisible. The male
breadwinner has never been universal. Women have always been forced into
paid labour as a result of desertion or widowhood; if they are single; or if their
husband’s earnings are insufficient. But the ideology of the breadwinner has
been pervasive, underpinning the notion that women’s work is less important
than men’s—women work for pin money—and legitimising unequal treatment.
Social and demographic changes mean that fewer people now live in traditional
households, while the restructuring of labour markets has brought more women
into the labour force. Legislation on equal pay is incompatible with notions of
the family wage (Barrett and Mclntosh 1980). The family wage continues,
however, to have forceful material and ideological impact.
Early feminist theories of the family under capitalism tended to portray the
‘nuclear’ family—with male breadwinner and dependent wife—as the norm. This
stereotype has been attacked by black feminists as Eurocentric.6 In Northern
Ireland, the problem of assuming common family structures has had a religious
dimension. Catholic men have rarely been able to earn a family wage, while the
ability of Protestant men to be breadwinners has been crucial in cementing their
aristocratic status.

Gender in the workplace

In focusing on the family as the site of women’s oppression, some feminist analysis
tended to portray the workplace as ungendered. By contrast, the notion of public
patriarchy (Walby 1990) focuses on the public sphere of paid work and the state
as major reproducers of gender domination.
Every society defines some jobs as ‘women’s work’ and some as ‘men’s work’
(Seager and Olson 1986). Women’s work in one country may be men’s work
elsewhere: medicine is women’s work in Russia, men’s work in Northern Ireland.
But gender inequality in status and rewards in paid work appears to be universal.
In all occupations women are underrepresented at the top, even if (as in ‘female
professions’ such as teaching) they dominate the bottom rungs. In Northern
Ireland, divisions based on gender intersect with religion. Specific types of labour
are ‘Protestant men’s work’, or ‘Catholic women’s work’.
Women and men experience employment restructuring differently. The growth
of part-time employment has been almost entirely female, while for men, flexibility
is achieved through overtime working. As Beechey and Perkins suggest ‘the
characteristics of part-time work do not stem from some general economically

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defined process’. On the contrary, the distinction between full-time and part-
time work is a ‘crucial contemporary manifestation of gender within the sphere
of production’ (Beechey and Perkins 1987:8–9). This difference entrenches
divisions between men and women workers. According to Ann Hope, equalities
officer for the Irish Congress of Trade Unions:
‘The wage gap between men and women is actually about 54 to 56 per
cent—much higher than the official figures—because men get their wages
made up in a whole number of ways while women do part time work.’7
At Belfast’s Royal Victoria Hospital, part-time working prevails in areas such as
domestic work where the workforce is predominandy female. For men in
traditionally male jobs, flexible hours are achieved by overtime, which is not
available in female occupations. According to a trade union official at the hospital:
‘Some of the male cooks are supposed to have a working week of thirty-
nine hours, but they regularly work sixty-five hours a week, and the porters
work seven days a week.’8
Different forms of flexibility also appear in relation to sickness cover. Rosaleen
Davidson, a domestic worker, explained:
‘We have to cover for each other when one of us is off sick. That means
we all have to work harder. If one of the porters is off sick, someone else is
brought in on overtime rates.’9
The differences reflect continuing attachment to the notion of the male
breadwinner and female dependence. As Ann Hope put it:
‘Part-time jobs are often not seen as “real jobs”. Women may be doing
them from choice or from necessity but they need to be taken seriously as
work.’10
The high unemployment in the strongly nationalist area around the Royal
Hospital has led some young men to take up traditionally female part-time
domestic work as their chances of obtaining full-time work have diminished.
Management obviously feel uncomfortable with men working ‘women’s’ hours.
Mary Ferris, another domestic worker at the hospital, explained:
‘The young men have been getting overtime. Some of the part-time workers
have been doing up to fifty-five hours a week. At first they wouldn’t offer
it to the women. The supervisors said we must look after the “boys”. But
the women kicked up and now we’re being given overtime as well.’11
Walby (1986) argued that exclusionary practices in the workplace have been as
important as women’s position in the family in restricting women’s access to the
labour force. In the nineteenth century, women’s entry to many occupations
was prevented by exclusively male trade unions and legal restrictions. While
these formal restrictions have largely been eradicated, exclusionary practices

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persist. Cockburn (1983) has shown how male print workers used informal
networks based on family ties to exclude women and other groups that were
deemed undesirable. Recruitment to jobs through the Orange Lodges, which
excluded Catholics, is an obvious parallel.
The recent prominence of the issue of sexual harassment at work has
undermined the notion of work as a neutral, ‘asexual’ territory (Hearn and
Parkin 1987). This raises the question of ‘workplace culture’ and its role in
maintaining sexual (and religious) domination. In Northern Ireland religious
harassment has been a more public concern than sexual harassment, although
the first two sexual harassment cases in the UK were taken by the Equal
Opportunities Commission for Northern Ireland (EOCNI). The definition of
sexual harassment has sometimes been extended to include not merely unwanted
sexual attention or other sexual behaviour aimed at a particular individual, but,
for example, displays of offensive material such as ‘pin ups’ (Marshall and Sales
1996). A case brought before an employment tribunal in Britain in 1996 found
an employer guilty of ‘environmental harassment’ as a result of unwelcome
displays of sexually explicit material at work.
Religious harassment has also ranged from extreme violence12 to displays of
flags and other symbols of one group. That the latter are not always harmless is
demonstrated in the experience of Pearse McKenna, a former shop steward in a
mainly Protestant bakery in Belfast. He was asked by some fellow workers to
complain to management about the sectarian emblems which were displayed by
loyalist workers in the factory. Management did nothing, in spite of the
prominently displayed notices warning the workforce about offensive displays.
But word spread around that Pearse had asked for their removal, and two months
later he was shot at outside the bakery.13 He has not worked since the shooting
and is now involved in Counteract, a trade union set up by the ICTU to combat
sectarianism in the workplace. Pearse McKenna believes that the problem of
sectarianism became no less pervasive with the ceasefires, but went underground.
The resurgence of sectarianism during the period of the Orange marches in the
summer of 1996 increased sectarian problems in the workplace.
Counteract’s annual report for 1995–6 pointed out that ‘addressing the
question of sectarianism has been mainly looked at from the male perspective’
and that women often have a ‘dual problem in terms of sectarian/sexual
harassment’ (Counteract 1996:3). This also makes it much more difficult for
women to report incidents. A video produced by the group, based on a real case,
shows a young Catholic woman working for the security firm Securicor being
harassed by groups of men, who use threats of violence against her and her
family. The abuse included sexual insults and threats, with the male harassers
employing stereotypes of Catholic women’s alleged promiscuity. She becomes
ill with stress, and in spite of her reporting this behaviour to management, she
was sacked on the pretext of her attendance record.14 The woman was later
awarded £25,157 in damages by a fair employment tribunal. The tribunal
judgment said:

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The facts of this reveal discrimination at its most blatant from threats,
taunts, abuse, blame, mockery, culminating in termination of a contract of
employment. There was management participation in such acts and total
indifference to the plight of a young employee in her first job where she
was the sole representative of the minority community at a location where
inside and out the majority community dominated.
(cited in Rubinstein 1996:42)

Gendered skills
A major contribution of feminist theory has been to show how the classification
of work as ‘skilled’ or ‘unskilled’ is gendered (see e.g. Cockburn 1983; Phillips
and Taylor 1986). Cavendish (1982) wrote about her experience of working in
a West London factory where male workers appeared to be classified as ‘skilled’
simply by virtue of being male. Their tasks had no obviously definable skill
content which was higher than that in tasks done by women workers. Beechey
suggests that different aspects of what are socially recognised as skills tend to be
conflated, leading to men’s and women’s work being valued differently In defining
work as skilled, it is not only the objective competencies and technical abilities
involved in a process which are important, but also control over the labour
process, and conventional views of occupational status (Beechey 1987:83).
Struggles to retain ‘skilled’ status have involved maintaining control through
exclusion of competing groups, as well as the preservation of particular types of
skilled labour. Women garment workers in Northern Ireland, for example, are
recruited on the basis of ‘natural aptitude’ which assumes previous experience
of sewing. These skills are not recognised in determining status in employment.
Women workers experience only ‘piecemeal and largely unrecognised training’,
whereas cutters and mechanics, mainly male, are given formal training, and no
previous competence is required (McLaughlin and Ingram 1991:35). Under-
valuing women’s skills means that ‘pay rates have historically been determined
by the sex of those in an occupation rather than by the inherent complexity and
responsibility of the job’ (ibid.: 46).
New techniques may make it profitable to replace skilled workers with
unskilled. These changes threaten the basis of the division of labour, which is
the product not merely of the production process, but of the prevailing ideology
of gender divisions (Barrett 1980). In Northern Ireland, changes in the labour
process threaten not only gender, but sectarian domination. The identification
of skilled jobs as male as well as Protestant, sometimes means that Catholic
women are not seen as posing the same threat as Catholic men. As the managing
director of one private firm put it:
‘I can get away with employing Catholic women, but I wouldn’t be able to
employ Catholic men.’15

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

Gender and ethnicity

Increasing attention is now being paid to the way in which labour markets are
structured by both gender and ethnicity, or the ‘racialised gendering’ of labour
markets (Brah 1993:442). A number of recent studies have examined the specific
positioning of women from different ethnic groupings within labour markets
(see e.g. Phizacklea 1983; Brah 1993; Bhavani 1994). Black and ethnic minority
women experience discrimination and subordination on grounds of race and
sex, and these intersect to create specific problems which restrict access to the
labour market, and maintain segregation and inequality within it.
In Britain this work has concentrated largely on ‘new’ ethnic minorities. Many
women have insecure citizenship status which has been crucial in excluding them
from the labour force and confining them to casualised and insecure employment.
This process clearly does not operate in the same way for Catholics and Protestants
in Northern Ireland. The literature does however raise a number of issues which
may help illuminate some of the differences in the relations of the two communities
to the labour market. In particular, it has shown that women’s employment may
be structured not merely by their sex, but by their membership of a community
which shapes their wider relations to the state, as well as to the family. Some of
these issues will be explored below in section three.

GENDER AND RELIGIOUS DIVISIONS

The data presented above suggest that different patterns exist in the labour
market participation of Catholic and Protestant women. In order to examine
these differences, we need to draw on a wider understanding of the relations of
the two communities to the state, and on the gendered nature of ethnic divisions.
The discussion below on the interrelation of gender and religion concentrates
on five main areas: the family wage; domestic labour; occupational stereotyping;
workplace segregation; and trade union activity.

The family wage

The evidence presented in section one of this chapter suggests that a large proportion
of Catholic men are not in a position to be breadwinners. A very low proportion
are full-time workers, especially in the middle and older age groups when they are
likely to have families. The relative security and higher pay of Protestant males
have always meant that they were more likely than Catholics to earn a ‘family
wage’. In the inter-war period, this meant that Catholic women were more likely
than Protestants to be in paid work. This pattern has been reversed in recent
years. More women’s jobs are being constructed in the service sector, often part
time, which have disproportionately been filled by Protestant women, while many
of the full-time women’s jobs in manufacturing have been lost.
Labour market activity among women is now greatest among single women

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

or women married to men in full-time jobs. Women are most likely to be out of
the labour force if they have an unemployed husband (McLaughlin 1986). The
benefit system creates a disincentive for the wives of unemployed men to enter
the labour force, since their partner would lose benefits as a result. This is
particularly important for part-time work, where potential earnings gained are
unlikely to compensate for the loss of benefits and other expenses incurred in
employment (McWilliams 1991).
Women therefore experience different relations to the labour market through
their partners. Catholic men have higher rates of unemployment than Protestants
and their wives are therefore less likely to be in work. The very high rate of
endogamy means that Catholic men are likely to be married to Catholic women.
Religious inequality therefore reinforces economic dependence for Catholic
women.
Evidence from the EOCNI 1990 survey gives support to this contention. For
both Catholic and Protestant women, economic activity was more than twice as
high for those whose partners were in work than for those whose partner was
unemployed. Partners of Protestant women were more likely to be working
than those of Catholics: 82 per cent compared to 66 per cent.

Table 6.19 Employment status of women in relation to partner (%)

Source: Kremer and Montgomery (1990), unpublished data

The effect of higher unemployment among Catholic men was lower economic
activity for Catholic women: the activity rate for Protestant women was 34.2
per cent (full time) and 23.0 per cent (part time), compared to Catholic rates of
29.5 per cent and 17.8 per cent. This produced more unemployed couples among
Catholics: of women living with partners, 25 per cent of Catholics were in
unemployed couples, compared to 13.8 per cent of Protestants.
In a survey carried out among households in Derry, McLaughlin found that
the ‘female breadwinner’ is a myth and that ‘most unemployed couples were
concentrated in the Catholic ghetto of the Creggan’ (McLaughlin 1986:43). Far
from women replacing their husbands in employment, they are more likely to
be unemployed or inactive themselves. Further evidence of this effect was obtained
in a study of employment at Belfast’s Royal Victoria Hospital (Sales 1993).
Rosaleen explained that she is able to work part time because her husband is in
full-time work:

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

‘All our husbands are working, or they’re retired or on sickness benefit.

Some of the women have had to leave when their husbands have been
made redundant. They couldn’t afford to lose the benefit.’16
Inequalities are therefore compounded, with growing disparities between ‘work
poor’ and ‘work rich’ households. Work poor households are concentrated in
urban areas. The wards in Belfast with highest male unemployment also have
high female unemployment (see Table 6.4).

Domestic labour
The conservative familialist ideology of Church and state has meant that childcare
has been seen as a private responsibility. Northern Ireland was until recently the
worst provided in the European Community (Hinds 1991). This means that
difficulties in combining paid work and caring for dependents may be
insurmountable (McLaughlin and Ingram 1991). Provision has increased
somewhat recently, partly as a result of campaigning by community and women’s
groups. Joanne Vance, who runs a ‘Women into Politics Project’ from the
Downtown Women’s Centre, claims:
‘The women’s movement has been demanding that childcare provision is
incorporated into all new training and employment projects. We are
beginning to have some impact on the policy.’17
Northern Ireland has moved up the UK league, with slightly more total provision
than Wales in 1993–94 (EOCNI 1995:18). The number of day care places for
children rose from just over one-sixth of the total population of children aged up
to four years in 1989, to just over a quarter in 1993–94, with increases in both
childminding and day nurseries. While childcare is often provided for short-
term training schemes, the proportion of long-term, publicly funded childcare
remains tiny.
Women’s responsibility for the care of dependents is the major obstacle to
access to employment (Brannen and Moss 1991). The burden of unpaid domestic
labour falls overwhelmingly on women. Campbell et al. (1990) in a study in
Northern Ireland found that men were unlikely to take responsibility for domestic
labour even if they were not in paid work. Using unpublished CHS data, they
showed that among unemployed men whose wives were in work, only 16 per cent

Table 6.20 Childcare provision by type, per 1,000 population aged

0–4 years, 1989 and 1993–4

Source: EOCNI 1995:18

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

described themselves as keeping house, while only 1 per cent did so if their wife
was also unemployed. Their research also included a small-scale survey of
household sexual division of labour, which showed a clear separation of male
and female tasks. Women with children did four times as much domestic labour
as men; women without children did two and a half times as much. On average
women with children spent fifty-one hours per week on housework and childcare,
compared to thirteen hours for men. Even where a woman was in paid
employment she still carried the bulk of domestic responsibility, reducing her
leisure time, and reorganising domestic tasks to evenings and weekends.
Catholic families are on average larger than Protestant, partly as a result of
Catholic prohibition of contraception and abortion. Though this differential has
been reduced considerably as women from both communities have had smaller
families, the larger number of children in Catholic families means that women
are likely to be out of the labour force for longer. Table 6.9 above shows a
significant difference in the economic activity of Catholics and Protestants in
the age group thirty-five years and upwards.
A study for the Equal Opportunities Commission cast doubt on the notion that
Catholic women’s lower labour force participation is due to ‘traditional’ values. On
a standard ‘Attitudes to women’ scale, they did not differ significantly from British
women (Kremer and Curry 1986:31). Catholics, particularly women, were noticeably
more liberal than Protestants, both in terms of work and general social attitudes.
Catholic women with dependent children were more likely to be in work than
Protestants. It therefore appears to be material obstacles (including labour market
barriers) rather than commitment to the traditional family which reduces the labour
force participation rate of Catholic women below that of Protestants.

Occupational stereotyping
The Eastern Health and Social Services Board, noting the underrepresentation
of Catholics in maintenance, professional and technical and medical occupations
among its employees, commented that this reflected
the trend within society in Northern Ireland—a strong emphasis within the
Protestant community in science and engineering and a corresponding
emphasis within the Roman Catholic community in the ‘caring services’
such as nursing and community work.
(EHSS 1991:3)
This ‘emphasis’ appears to require no further investigation. That the sentence
quoted above appeared in the Board’s Equal Opportunities report suggests a
depressing acceptance of existing structures. While caring services are seen as
‘Catholic’, the fact that the highest status caring profession—medicine—is
predominantly Protestant is not commented on. There is no evidence in the
report of any recognition of the need, let alone a strategy, to break down
occupational stereotyping.

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

The concentration of Catholics in ‘caring professions’ stems not from any

innate quality in Catholics, but from the structures which have developed in
Northern Ireland. Catholics have been excluded from many occupations, both
in public and private sectors, which has led to a higher representation of Catholic
men, and women, in traditionally female occupations. The low status of both
‘women’s work’ and ‘Catholic work’ is indicative of the lack of real occupational
choice. The occupational structure is also a reflection of the ‘social apartheid’ in
services discussed in Chapter 5, and of the segregated schooling system, which
has produced different subject profiles for the two communities.
In the private sector, exclusion of Catholics has been most obvious in the
skilled male manual trades, where exclusionary practices have also kept women
from skilled work. Analysis of the Fair Employment Commission’s monitoring
returns for 1991 (Sales 1993) showed that there were twenty-four firms, employing
nearly 10,000 people, whose workforce was over 90 per cent Protestant. Four of
these firms, including Harland and Wolff, are in engineering and vehicles, and
fifteen in ‘other manufacturing’. Together these firms employed 8,624 people.
By contrast, there were only four firms, employing 675 people, with more than
90 per cent Catholic employment, half in ‘other services’. A more mixed picture
emerged for those employing over 80 per cent of one religion. The Protestant
firms are still dominated by manufacturing, but there is a significant proportion
in distribution and banking, while none of the Catholic firms are in these groups.
Over two-thirds of employment in Catholic-dominated firms is in manufacturing,
almost all in general manufacturing, and 61 per cent of this in the traditionally
Catholic industry, clothing. While the Protestant group includes some of the
largest companies in Northern Ireland, Catholic-dominated firms are generally
much smaller; only one firm employed more than a thousand, and four over
250. Four of the five are clothing companies.
These patterns reflect the structure of ownership of capital in Northern Ireland.
A large number of small Catholic-owned firms employ mainly Catholics, and a
similar relative number of Protestant firms. The large firms tend to be Protestant
owned (either currently or in the past), and, except where they operate in
overwhelmingly Catholic areas, have established and maintained exclusionary
practices against Catholics. The large Catholic-dominated firms have a
predominantly female workforce, whereas the workforce in Protestant-dominated
firms is largely male.
At Shorts aircraft company (see Chapter 4), the equal opportunities policy
has been tied to restructuring of the production process. According to the equal
opportunities manager, modernisation, and the development of new plants, has
‘facilitated a change of attitudes and working practices, with less
demarcation of jobs. There are less sectarian displays, and very few girlie
pictures in the new plant.’18
Modernisation undermines traditional working practices, with implications not
merely for the religious composition of the workforce, but for gender. The

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

Table 6.21 Employment by Standard Industrial Classification (SIC) (Protestant- and

Catholic-dominated firms), 1991

Note: lower figures are percentages of each group in that SIC.

Source: FEC monitoring returns for 1991 ; unpublished data from monitoring returns

machinery which has been replaced was often forty to fifty years old, and relied
on traditional ‘labour aristocracy’ skills. The new production processes place
less premium on force. The increased use of computer-aided design and assembly
takes away much of the heavy work, while the new composites which are replacing
the heavy metals in machine parts are easier to work with.
A Fair Employment Tribunal case in June 1996 suggested that these
expectations of changing attitudes were perhaps overoptimistic. The tribunal
awarded £10,000 to a Catholic man who had suffered sectarian harassment
from fellow workers at the Shorts plant between 1987 and 1992. While many of
the incidents complained of happened before the new policies had been
implemented the tribunal found that management had not taken action to prevent
the harassment. The tribunal chair stated that the company had ‘strained our
patience as well as credibility’ by claiming that there was no sectarian motive for
wearing a Rangers shirt.19
The potential for changes in the composition of employment at Shorts has

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

been severely limited by the fall in total workforce. Employment fell by over
1,600 between 1991 and 1994 (FEC monitoring returns). In 1996, the loss of
1,000 jobs was announced as a result of the collapse of the Dutch company
Fokker to which Shorts supplied parts.
Another private sector area which has been traditionally Protestant is financial
services. The majority of banks, insurance companies and building societies are
branches of British companies. All have been subject to FEA investigations which
have shown an overrepresentation of Protestants, with men predominating in
management and women at lower levels. An interesting exception is in insurance,
where business is divided into two groups: ‘industrial life’ is concerned mainly
with individual life insurance, with agents making regular calls on clients to
collect premiums; ‘ordinary business’ involves larger clients, and business is
conducted mainly from the company office. Office staff were predominandy
Protestant, but residential segregation meant that the religious composition of
industrial life staff is related to the areas covered, and
a person known to the company, from the area already being worked by
an agent, was quite likely to be recruited…the tendency would be for
Roman Catholics to cover certain areas and Protestants certain areas. This
in turn would be self perpetuating.
(FEC 1986:6)
In the public sector, the most obvious area of Protestant domination has been in
security forces. Employment expanded as a result of the Troubles and represented
14.9 per cent of public sector employment in 1994 (FEC 1995:11). Over 15,000
Protestant men and 3,000 Protestant women were employed in security-related
occupations, compared with just over 1,000 Catholic men, and less than 300 Catholic
women (calculated from FEC 1995:42, 52). This sector represents over a third of
Protestant male public sector employment, and nearly 10 per cent for women.
The imbalance in security force employment is clearly a reflection of the
relationship of the Protestant community to the state. Other public sector
employment (most notably in traditional labour aristocracy sectors such as
electricity and gas) has also been predominantly Protestant. These industries
are strategic suppliers, and under Stormont exclusion of potentially ‘disloyal’
(i.e. Catholic) workers was maintained. Patterns of employment have remained
remarkably constant since Direct Rule, and with privatisation. They have been
subject to investigation by the Fair Employment Commission, and the gas
industry has been the object of a shareholders’ campaign to force changes in
employment practices. The security exemption in the Fair Employment legislation
has been widely used by these companies.

Segregation in the workplace

Religious segregation in the workplace is widespread. Nearly half of private
firms monitored by the Fair Employment Commission in 1994 employed less

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

than ten people from one community (FEC 1995). Most of these firms are
relatively small, but some of the largest employers also have a distinctly
unbalanced workforce. FEC figures underestimate the true extent of segregation.
The US company Lee Apparel, for example, had an almost evenly balanced
workforce in the late 1980s, but this was made up of a predominantly Protestant
plant (91.4 per cent in 1988), and a Catholic plant (97.5 per cent) (Booth and
Bertsch 1989:118). The Catholic workforce is predominantly female, the
Protestant workforce predominantly male (Obair 1991).
There are no comparable figures for gender composition, but EOCNI studies
have pointed to a high degree of both horizontal and vertical segregation (e.g.
McGuire 1987; Maguire 1989). McLaughlin and Ingram’s study of employment
in the textile industry (1991:13) showed that 83 per cent of the workforce was in
highly sex-segregated occupations.
Women are more likely than men to be in religiously segregated employment.
They travel shorter distances to work since they have less access to cars, earn
less, and are more likely to be in part-time work. Residential segregation has
increased since ‘the Troubles’, and difficulties in travel to work are exacerbated
by the problem of crossing ‘hostile territory’. This has increased the likelihood
of women working with women from the same community. At Shorts, for
example, Catholics are less well represented in the female workforce than in the
male. The plant is some distance from housing, and difficult to get to on foot.
This particularly affects Catholic women, who are reluctant to make the journey
to Queen’s Island in Protestant East Belfast.
For Catholic women who do work in Protestant areas, there is the constant
need for vigilance, which becomes more vital when a violent incident may raise
the sectarian temperature. Maeve has a Catholic friend who works in a
community centre in a Protestant area:
‘When there has been trouble, I have had to ring her and say “leave now
and don’t take the usual route home”.’20
Employment at the Royal Victoria Hospital in Catholic West Belfast has become
much more segregated with the conflict, particularly in the lower status, and
‘female’ occupations. Although medical and technical occupations are
predominantly Protestant, domestic work is now almost entirely Catholic. As
Rosaleen explained:
‘There are no Protestants working here now. They didn’t want to come
into this area when the Troubles started. They’ve all retired and left.’21
Part-time employment is more likely to be segregated and female. It is not
monitored for fair employment. Part-time work is more likely to rely on word-
of-mouth recruitment through established social networks, which will tend to be
predominantly of one religion.

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 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN TH E 1990s

Trade union activity

The high level of segregation has reduced opportunities for women to meet
together and work on issues of common concern. Segregation has also perpetuated
stereotypes of the other community, making common activities more difficult.
The official trade union movement has found it extremely difficult to confront
the issue of sectarianism. Unions, particularly those in the public sector, have
moved on from the position when to raise the question of discrimination was
automatically dismissed as sectarian (Rolston 1981). Opposition to sectarianism
and support for fair employment became official policy of all public sector unions
and the Northern Committee of the ICTU during the 1980s. The ICTU now
supports Counteract, whose aims include developing action and policies to
alleviate intimidation and sectarianism in the workplace, and organise research
and training on the issue. Most people are reluctant to talk about the issue, but
according to Billy Robinson once you get through the ‘pain barrier’ they become
more open. The combination of sexual with sectarian harassment makes Catholic
women vulnerable to particularly vicious forms of abuse, although the sexual
element also makes it more difficult for them to report it.
Fear of dividing the membership by raising the issue still dominates much of
trade union activity at branch level. One branch secretary told me:
‘I can’t raise the issue of discrimination at branch meetings—it’s too sensitive.
Protestant members would think I was raising it because I’m a Catholic
and it would tear the branch apart.’22
The extent of the difference goes deeper than this, since religion determines a
whole series of political and social ideas. The attitudes of the two communities
to the state reflects a basic division over national identity. Whole areas of
discussion which are part of normal trade union branch life elsewhere can
therefore be ruled out. A trade union official at the Royal said:
‘Protestants reject anti-government statements, because they think I’m
getting at “their” government.’23
Contact between Protestant and Catholic in the workplace continues to be
characterised by ‘avoidance’ which constrains debate on any topic likely to be sensitive.
A regional official of one of the major trade unions at the hospital told me:
‘Religion doesn’t matter here. We never discuss politics in the union.’24

CONCLUSION
The labour market in Northern Ireland is structured by both gender and religion.
The simplistic identification of religious disadvantage with men, while assuming
a common female pattern of labour market participation, is misleading. Catholic
women face both gender and religious discrimination in the labour market,
which limits their access to employment. The past twenty years have seen

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considerable changes, with many women gaining increased opportunities in a

range of professional occupations. The increased pressure on the government
from the late 1980s to deliver change in relation to religion has also led to
changes at the top in some areas. Inez McCormack, the regional officer of NUPE
(now UNISON), described the situation at the Royal Victoria Hospital:
‘Catholics have been “fast-tracked” by the government for top jobs in order
to improve the Board’s image while working-class Catholic women are
suffering from government policies.’25
The Royal Victoria Hospital presents a contradictory picture in relation to gender
and religious subordination. On the one hand women and Catholics are gaining
a foothold in senior management and in occupations from which they have
traditionally been excluded, while the proportion of Catholics in the workforce
as a whole is increasing. On the other hand hierarchies of gender and religion
remain, and have in some ways become more entrenched as the position of the
least well paid has deteriorated (Sales 1993).
Management can claim some success for their equal opportunities policies,
while the unions claim that their workers’ conditions have suffered. The difference
reflects different notions of equality of opportunity which are the product of
different philosophies. The Eastern Health Board stresses the importance of
equal opportunities within the ‘turbulent competitive world of the 1990s’ and
the need for a workforce which is ‘competent, committed and flexible’ within
the new framework of the internal market (EHSS 1991:42). For unions,
particularly those representing low-paid workers, these policies of restructuring
are harming the worst off, and destroying collectively agreed conditions on which
their members depend. The main losers are women and Catholics.
The lowest paid jobs in British hospitals tend to be done by women from
minority ethnic communities, often those with insecure legal status which allows
them to be doubly exploited. Northern Ireland does not have this pool of labour
to draw on, and Catholic women ‘do the “skivvying” work’ in the hospital.26
While a minority of Catholics and women have been able to do well at the top,
flexibility has been used against the low paid.
The patterns of employment at the Royal reflect the tendencies in Northern
Ireland as a whole. The progress of women and Catholics has been uneven, and
inequalities have increased both between women, and within both communities.

168
 7

ENGENDERING CHANGE

‘We don’t talk about politics here. We only talk about women’s issues.’1

This comment was from Susan, who works as an administrator for a women’s
centre in a Protestant area. It expresses the politics of avoidance dominating
many organisations in Northern Ireland which in other contexts would be
considered unambiguously political. It reflects the difficulties of raising a women’s
agenda in a situation where politics is defined around the constitutional issue.
The phrase is an accommodation to the sectarian divide, a way of allowing
women to work together on questions where they have a common interest.
Women, like men, are divided by community loyalties. Most vote for and support,
with varying degrees of criticism, parties or groupings representing either unionist
or nationalist politics. But many women argue that they can cross the sectarian
divide, and put aside their opinions on other issues, in a way that is impossible
for men. As Joyce McCartan put it: ‘We can say “let’s forget our differences”
and get on with it.’2
Women in Northern Ireland have often had to separate themselves from the
formal political process in order to gain a voice for their concerns. The
identification of ‘politics’ with the constitutional issue entrenches the division
between a women’s agenda and mainstream political debate.
Feminists across the world have fought to get ‘women’s issues’ taken seriously
as political issues. One of the key slogans of second wave feminism was ‘the
personal is political’. This idea represented a powerful challenge to conventional
politics, widening the definition of the political both in relation to the scope of
political activity, and to the content of political programmes. Feminist theorists
have confronted the separation of the public and the private spheres of social life
which has been central to liberal political theory. The focus on both private (or
the personal) and public spheres has allowed feminists to develop a deeper
understanding of women’s oppression, and their limited involvement in formal
politics. It has also made what have been defined as ‘private’ issues, such as
sexuality, central concerns on the political agenda.3
In Northern Ireland, the notion of what is politics is constructed so centrally
around constitutional questions, that ‘women’s issues’ are often described as not

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

‘political’. In a recent study of women in politics, a member of a women’s group

is quoted as speaking for others in the organisation when she said ‘in our group
we keep politics at home’ (quoted in Rooney and Woods 1995:5). The speaker
was clearly referring to the national issue, rather than to sexual politics. Others
are fearful of discussing ‘politics’ at home, since they do not want their children
to become involved. Maureen is an active trade unionist who lives in a nationalist
area. Her husband was shot and wounded in a sectarian attack at work in the
1970s when the children were young. She said: ‘We tried not to talk politics in
front of the children.’4
The search for a neutral, or non-sectarian space is not confined to people
working on ‘women’s issues’. Trade unionists often use similar terms to distance
themselves from anything connected with the conflict. Trade unionism is thereby
seen as self-evidently non-sectarian, with unions often presenting themselves as
havens of normality in an irrational world. According to the Irish Congress of
Trades Unions:
The trade union movement remains as the one valid voice of working
people. It is also one of the voices of sanity in the community.
(cited in Rolston 1981:69)
This response to the conflict has allowed organisations and campaigns to be
built which cross the divide. The politics of ‘avoidance’ however, makes it easier
to marginalise feminist, and trade union, issues from mainstream political debate.
The vibrant women’s movement which has developed during the years of
the conflict has questioned women’s traditional roles. The history of the women’s
movement has shown, however, that unity around women’s demands is fragile,
and is always in danger of fracturing, as issues such as strip searching have
forced women to take a position on the constitutional issue.

WOMEN AND MAINSTREAM POLITICS

The formal political process has been dominated by the sectarian divide, with
voters overwhelmingly giving allegiance to parties from their ‘own side’ (see
glossary of political parties). The construction of politics around community
loyalties gives little space for raising other forms of inequality. This is particularly
problematic for feminists, whose demands may conflict with established values
within the community. The Churches in both communities have been particularly
powerful in promoting conservative teaching in relation to sexuality.
Northern Ireland’s current constitutional position has created a political
vacuum, in which local people have little political influence or control. Decisions
on the major policy issues affecting people’s lives are made at Westminster.
Local councils, the only elected bodies with local responsibilities, have few
functions—their powers largely restricted to being ‘in charge of “bins and burials”’
(Rooney and Woods 1995:17).
Women have been largely excluded from formal policy making. There are

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no women MPs from Northern Ireland at Westminster, and only three have
ever been elected. Two Ulster Unionists were elected in the 1950s, one of whom
served for nearly ten years. The last woman elected from Northern Ireland was
Bernadette Devlin (now McAliskey) who represented Mid Ulster as a nationalist
Unity candidate from 1969 until 1974. Several women candidates stood for the
major political parties in the 1992 general election, but none was in a winnable
seat. No woman has been elected to the European Parliament from any of
Northern Ireland’s three Euro constituencies. Four women candidates stood at
the last European election in 1994: the highest vote cast was for Mary Clark
Glass of the Alliance Party with 4.1 per cent.
Nine women were elected during the fifty-two year existence of the Stormont
Parliament, of whom one, Dehra Parker, was a member of the Cabinet. Parker,
whose political career spanned nearly forty years, was also the first woman to
hold government office in the United Kingdom. In a study of her political life,
Ian Paisley Junior describes her role as a ‘dramatic departure from established
notions of normality at the time’. Her career did not however challenge unionist
politics on gender issues. According to Paisley, the Ulster Women’s Unionist
Council of which she was part,
was driven by the desire to be part of the team, to play their role in
preserving and maintaining what was important to them…. Feminism was
seen by Unionists and Unionist women as pretentious and divisive.
(Paisley 1993:15–16)
There are now 582 local council seats across Northern Ireland. In the 1993 local
elections, sixty-seven women were elected, 11.5 per cent of the total (Lucy
1994:171). Subsequent by-elections increased their number to 71 (12.2 per cent)
by 1995.5 Women are underrepresented in all parties, but particularly in unionist
parties. Alliance had the largest proportion (22.7 per cent) followed by SDLP
(15.0 per cent) and Sinn Fein (13.7 per cent). The Ulster Unionist Party had the
largest number of women councillors, but they represented only 11.1 per cent
of the party’s total. For the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) the proportion
was even lower, with 5.6 per cent.
Baroness Denton, who was appointed a junior minister in 1994, was the first
woman minister in the Northern Ireland office since Direct Rule. Women have
been better represented on the quangos which have proliferated since Direct
Rule, with the EOCNI reporting a 30.6 per cent female representation on public
bodies in 1993 (quoted in WCRG 1995:18). There were, however, twenty-one
out of 144 public bodies with no woman representative (ibid.).
The representation of women in parliament and local government is lower
in Northern Ireland than it is in Britain, which itself has one of the lowest
proportions of women among elected representatives in Europe. No accurate
comparative figures on local councillors are available for Britain as a whole. In
London, on average approximately 25 per cent of councillors were women in
1990 (Barry 1991).

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Table 7.1 Women in national parliaments in the

European Union, 1994

Source: Parliamentary Labour Party 1994

All the major Northern Ireland political parties now have policy statements
on women’s issues. These statements are often fairly limited and general. The
main area of change has been in relation to policy on employment, where all
express support for the principle of equal opportunity, and for policies to help
reconcile paid work with family responsibilities, through for example state-funded
childcare. Launching the Ulster Unionist Party’s statement on Women’s Issues
in 1992, the Reverend Martin Smyth declared:
‘Social attitudes must adapt to allow women scope to make their own
decisions as to the balance between family and work ambitions, in an
atmosphere of support and encouragement.’6
This represents a substantial shift from the attitudes prevailing in the 1970s. The
structural changes in the labour market, with the erosion of traditional male
‘breadwinner’ jobs, and the increase in women’s employment, have forced
politicians, however reluctantly, to confront the realities of changing gender roles.
Legislation on sex discrimination has been in force since the 1970s, and in the
1990s, particularly following the strengthening of fair employment legislation,
there has been a more pervasive culture of equal opportunities, which has had
an effect in changing attitudes—at least publicly expressed attitudes—in mainstream
parties. 7 The development of policy on women’s issues also reflects the
campaigning work done by women both within political parties and—more
importantly—outside the formal political party structure.
The more progressive policies in relation to employment have not so far
extended to sexual politics. The main parties remain either hostile or ambivalent
in relation to abortion, and no party has been prepared to risk an open debate
on the subject.

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Most political parties have a membership which is at least 50 per cent female
(Rooney and Woods 1995:27) but women’s numbers are not reflected among
elected representatives or in the parties’ key policy making bodies. This situation
is not dissimilar to that in British parties, although the trend is more striking in
Northern Ireland. The major parties have a strongly male culture which has
traditionally confined women to a secondary, and largely domestic role. Most
parties now have some structures for involving women in the policy making
process, although these have not generally had a very high profile.
The Unionist Party has had a long-standing Women’s Council, but its role
has been to organise women in support of the Unionist cause rather than to
develop an independent agenda. It produced no policy documents on women’s
issues. The ‘women’s issues committee’ established in 1995 has, however, a
specific brief to advise the party on policy. The formal association between the
Unionist Party and the Orange Order has been important in entrenching the
traditional division of labour. Carol, a member of the committee, acknowledged
that women have found it difficult to gain influence:
‘The ties with the Orange Order should be dropped. I would not join the
Women’s Orange Order. It is separatist and very male dominated.’8
She nevertheless supported the party’s opposition to quotas for women candidates,
putting the responsibility for women’s low profile largely on women themselves:
‘Women complain about discrimination, but they are also prepared to sit
back and make tea. It’s up to women themselves.’
The DUP also has a women’s group but it is not very securely established.
According to Ian Paisley Junior:
‘Women have run for office, but it’s always known that certain parties will
win the seats, and women are never put forward for those seats. Even in
our own party, women play a supine (sic) role.’9
Dr Paisley’s daughter, Rhonda, who was for some years a leading figure in
the DUP and the party’s spokesperson on women’s issues, withdrew from
political activity in 1995. Writing in a local journal, she set out her view that
there exists ‘very little room for feminism within the ranks of Unionism’
(Paisley 1994:32). Her experience as a woman within a unionist party led
her to claim that:
There certainly exists an attitude among males which is at its best dismissive
and at its worst downright chauvinistic towards women involved in politics.
(ibid.: 33)
For Rhonda Paisley, this attitude contradicted the Protestant Unionist ethos
which she believes ‘seeks to teach us to believe in our liberty and to back that
liberty with a healthy work ethic’ (ibid.).
The SDLP also has a women’s committee which has attempted to involve

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more women in taking elected office and positions of influence in the party.
According to the committee’s secretary, Gerry Cosgrove, there has been a traditional
division of labour within the party, with women mainly in supportive roles:
‘70 per cent of our branch secretaries are women but only 18 per cent of
our councillors. We are not much different from other parties.’10
The party has, however, espoused quotas for women for party office. At a special
conference in 1995, a proposal from the women’s group was adopted that 40
per cent of the executive committee should be women. Women, however, remain
reluctant to get up and represent the party:
‘They don’t have enough confidence in themselves. At one of our meetings
one woman said “I’m just a councillor.” Could you imagine a man saying
that? She was the only woman on her council.’
She claimed that the men in the party are sympathetic to women’s greater
involvement, but the ambivalence of this welcome is implied in the qualification
that, ‘You have to show them you’re not a threat.’
The Alliance Party draws its support from both communities, and could be
seen as less tied to the traditions of either community. A former party
spokesperson on women’s affairs, councillor Eileen Bell, claimed that women
played a more important role in the Alliance Party than in the other parties.
Alliance has a higher proportion of women councillors than any other party,
although they still make up less than a quarter of the total. Eileen is unenthusiastic
about quotas and separate women’s committees, since she feels that women are
already involved in all areas of party policy. As a member of the Dublin Forum
for Peace and Reconciliation, she said:
‘I feel I am a real delegate. Other parties have women there just for show.
They don’t say anything, they’re just there to make the numbers up.’11
On the other hand, like Gerry Cosgrove for the SDLP, she suggested that this
acceptance of women is qualified:
‘Northern Ireland is a very traditional society. Men don’t mind when
women are doing community work but they feel threatened if women get
involved in representative politics. The attitudes of men—even in my own
party—need to change.’
Eileen spoke forcibly of the need for women to become more involved in
mainstream politics:
‘Lots of women don’t want to be part of formal politics. But women need
to be involved in decision making bodies. Power is in the political arena—
that’s where the decisions are taken.’
Sinn Fein is the party with the longest history of women’s organisation. The
party rejects the legitimacy of the two partitioned states, and has not seen itself

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as primarily engaging in electoral politics within Northern Ireland. Its relationship

with the IRA has meant that its own status as a ‘legitimate’ political party has
been and continues to be questioned. Sinn Fein has engaged actively in community
politics, which for many of its members is the party’s main priority. A sizeable
number of councillors have nevertheless been elected, of whom about one in six
are women.
Women have gained a relatively high profile within Sinn Fein, although they
have never been among its main spokespeople. It was the first party to introduce
quotas for women on its ruling bodies, and to develop specific policies on women’s
issues. Since the 1970s, there have been party members who have identified
themselves as feminists and organised around feminist concerns. Sinn Fein has
generally pursued a more radical agenda on social issues—including women’s rights—
than the mainstream parties. There has however been an uneasy relationship
between the women’s agenda and the party line. The question of abortion has
been one of the most contested. After a long campaign by women members, Sinn
Fein voted to support a woman’s right to choose in the 1980s. It later abandoned
the policy. Its ambivalence over the issue reflects the continuing hold of traditional
community values, and the unwillingness to offend Catholic opinion.
A women’s department based in Dublin was established in 1980. The Belfast
women’s department was disbanded in 1994. A group of women from the Belfast
executive claimed that women did not need any special structures in Belfast,
and were well integrated and active in the movement. As Mairead put it:
‘We have easy relationships with the men in the movement. Men have
changed. They can see that the struggle would not have survived without
women.’12
Nationalist critics of Sinn Fein have, however, criticised the absence of an
independent voice for women in the party. During the long period of the ceasefire,
Sinn Fein’s political campaigning was focused narrowly on the demand for all-
party talks. As Grainne, a member of Clar na mBan, said:
‘The women in Belfast Sinn Fein are becoming more tied to the party line.
The Sinn Fein women got a lot of stick for being involved with Clar na mBan
and for taking part in a women only conference.’13
The fringe Unionist parties, which are closely associated with the loyalist
paramilitaries, have become more prominent since the ceasefires. They have
been attempting to involve more women as they have developed wider agendas
on social and economic questions. No women councillors have been elected.14
The Progressive Unionist Party which is associated with the Ulster Volunteer
Force, has developed the more radical politics (Price 1995). One of the first
women on the party’s executive, Irene Murphy, is a well known feminist and
community activist. She says that her feminist standpoint was seen as a positive
asset by the men who urged her to join the party. The party has taken some
steps to encourage women’s involvement, but this has remained limited:

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‘I am not happy with the gender balance in the party. We wanted at least
four women on the executive, then 60–40 either way. We won the four,
but not the 60–40. We were patronised during the debate. We have a lot
more work to do.’15
Promoting a feminist agenda in the party within a loyalist community has not
been easy:
‘The party grew out of a very macho environment, and showing men
their issues are not the only issues is quite hard.’

Local councillors
Local councils have had few powers since local government was reorganised in
1973, with most of their main functions, such as housing, education and social
services, transferred to appointed boards. Council seats are, however, hotly
contested by the major political parties, and local government retains great
symbolic significance (Wilford et al. 1993:343). At stake in these elections, as in
all others, are the constitutional issues. Councils have little influence on the
broader shape of policy, but some matters where they do have competence—
such as in the issue of the name of Derry-Londonderry City—have become the
focus for bitter conflict.
Wilford et al. suggest that the heavy symbolic significance of these elections
may help to explain the shortage of women on councils. Councils, in spite of
their limited formal powers, have become the major arena for traditional politics—
an arena too important to be left to women. Council elections produce the ‘largest
pool of political representatives’ (Birrell 1983:95)—the public face of unionism
and nationalism. At the same time, the bitterness of debates, which often involve
meetings going on well into the night, makes council meetings unappealing for
many women, particularly for those with domestic responsibilities for whom
time is especially precious. Belfast City Council has been the site of major conflict,
particularly between Sinn Fein and the unionist parties. While debates rage over
the ‘big’ issues, councils have limited scope for developing practical policies.
The possibility of making real changes could make participation seem worthwhile
for more women.
While political parties are now more willing to have women on their slates,
women are often regarded by male councillors with suspicion, particularly if
they show any ambition, or independence from the party line. A number of
recent studies of local government (Birrell 1983; Wilford et al. 1993; Rooney
and Woods 1995) have shed light on women’s experience as local councillors,
and on the reaction of their male colleagues.
Rooney and Woods found that for male councillors, political participation
appeared to be an extension of activity in the public sphere; while for women it
was family background or some particular political event which precipitated them
into activity. As they summarised it, ‘men’s political stance is seen as their own

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whereas a woman’s is associated with the entire family’ (Rooney and Woods
1995:19). A large proportion of women councillors are relatives of male politicians,
many owing their election largely to that connection. A survey of thirty-three
women councillors elected in 1989, found that twelve had male relatives holding
political office (Wilford et al. 1993:343). This tradition has been particularly
associated with unionist parties. Rhonda Paisley and her mother Eileen have both
been elected to Belfast City Council for the DUE While Rhonda Paisley attempted
to move beyond the traditional limitations placed on Unionist women, her successor
as spokesperson on women’s issues, Iris Robinson, is in the more traditional mould.
Iris Robinson is the wife of the party’s deputy leader, Peter Robinson, and clearly
does not see her role as being to challenge women’s position in the party.
One of the DUP councillors in Wilford et al.’s survey felt that her selection
was seen as second best by the party. She explained that the local party had
‘tried to get a good Christian man to stand: they couldn’t, so I agreed’ (Wilford
et al. 1993:345). Women candidates are however increasingly seen as an asset to
the parties. Their strong links with local communities can be turned into electoral
support. As Bernie Bradley, a Sinn Fein councillor in Derry, explained:
‘When I stood, they were looking for people who knew the area, and
trying to get more women to stand.’16
Community links have been emphasised more by Alliance and Sinn Fein, and by
the fringe Unionist parties. A common criticism of the mainstream parties is
their distance from ordinary voters. Unionist politicians are frequently referred
to as the ‘fur coat brigade’, who only come near the working-class ghettos when
they are looking for votes. They too are now starting to appreciate the value of
strong local networks. Carol from the Ulster Unionist Party said:
‘We’ve just had a councillor elected in a by-election. She was campaigning
as a Unionist, but being a woman helped. She knew people through schools
and other local activities.’17
Once elected, women often find the practical difficulties of council work
overwhelming. As well as the large number of late evening meetings, there is
constituency work. Although councils have few formal powers, they often act as
mediators with public bodies on behalf of constituents, particularly in relation
to housing (Birrell 1983). Bernie Bradley of Sinn Fein said:
‘I don’t know if I will stand again. There are so many meetings. It takes up
a lot of time, and I have three children.’18
The parties often do little to prepare women for office, and provide little support
for them once elected. As Bernie said:
‘I wasn’t expecting to win. I don’t speak a lot in the council, I don’t have
a lot of confidence. I didn’t have any training, but they are talking about
doing it now.’

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In addition to their isolation as women, Sinn Fein women face, with their male
party colleagues, ostracism by unionists on the council. Sinn Fein has five members
on Derry City Council, two of them women:
‘The DUP does not recognise us. Mary Nellis is chair of the City Marketing
Committee, but they won’t speak to her. They ignore her even though she
is in the chair.’
Politicians in Northern Ireland face other problems which rarely exist elsewhere.
Many have been subject to attacks or threats of violence. As Mary, an SDLP
member, said:
‘It’s dangerous to be in politics—it can be a threat to your life. My sister
had a gun attack after standing for the council.’19
Some of the most prominent Republican and loyalist women have served prison
sentences for political offences. They are ineligible to stand for election until
they have been out of prison for five years.
Once elected, women face a variety of reactions from male colleagues. Rooney
and Woods describe three types of response. Firstly admiring, which often slips
into condescension: women are treated as special, as ‘ladies’, but they are also
admired for prioritising their domestic responsibilities, and not being ambitious
enough to sacrifice their families for politics. Secondly marginalisation: this
attitude is suspicious of women, who are seen as more likely to collaborate with
the ‘other side’. Thirdly tactical acceptance: women are welcomed for their ability
to attract votes. Republican councillors also suggested that men should be
encouraged to become involved in ‘women’s issues’ (Rooney and Woods
1995:20). Men’s behaviour was characterised either by inclusionary or
exclusionary strategies, but women’s acceptance by male councillors was
provisional on their domestic responsibilities not impinging on council business
and activities (ibid.: 21).
In Wilford et al.’s study, over half of the women councillors interviewed spoke
of feeling excluded by men. One DUP councillor spoke at length of the problems:
‘A little pat on the leg when you are disagreed with. Use of the word
“love” and “dear”. Eyed when you enter a meeting and winked at, expected
to make the tea: the list is endless.’
(quoted in Wilford et al. 1993:346–7)
Others felt that they were marginalised by being consigned to ‘women’s issues’.
This could also make them suspect in the eyes of party colleagues, since this
work was likely to bring them into collaboration with women from the other
parties. Women are perceived, and see themselves, as more willing to talk to
other groups, to compromise and to work together on issues of common concern.
But women who work too closely with ‘the other side’ may be seen as unreliable.
The extent to which a women’s agenda conflicts with the party programme
clearly depends on the individual woman’s politics, and that of her party. Few

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women councillors have come from a feminist background, or have prioritised

gender issues when entering politics (Wilford et al. 1993). Commitment to a
political party inevitably means that gender issues take second place to party
loyalty. In general, nationalist women have experienced less conflict than
unionists in pressing for a women’s agenda. Feminism is seen as alien to
Unionism, and is therefore suspect. Rhonda Paisley, recalling her experience
as a councillor, said:
A token woman suits most aspects of Unionism—but a woman who starts
to move up the political ladder reveals the insecurity of the majority of
men who are still determined to keep a woman in her place.
(Paisley 1995:33)
Wilford’s survey attempted to discover whether women felt they had a shared
gender identity that bridges sectarian division (Wilford et al. 1993:342). They
concluded that ‘the myths of nationality and religion inhibit women in electoral
office from an overt expression of sisterly solidarity thereby arresting the
feminising of politics across communal lines’ (ibid.: 351). This statement suggests
that there is no substantial basis to the issues which divide women, so that
feminist politics could be enough to override national divisions. ‘Sisterly solidarity’
has at times managed to bridge divisions in relation to specific issues. An example
of this was when a Unionist councillor, Elizabeth Seawright, supported the
restoration of funding to the Falls Women’s Centre in the heart of Catholic West
Belfast. Funding had been cut off by her Unionist colleagues on the City Council,
and cllr. Seawright’s actions involved a considerable challenge to party loyalty.
Longer term unity is unlikely, however, without confronting the issue of structural
sectarianism.

THE TRADE UNION MOVEMENT

Trade unions in Northern Ireland have retained a degree of respectability which
is not generally accorded to British trade unions. Since the recognition of the
Irish Congress of Trades Unions (ICTU) by the Stormont Government in 1964,
the official trade union movement has been incorporated into the institutions of
Northern Ireland’s public life. Under Direct Rule, quangos with trade union
representation have proliferated.
Trade unions have fiercely guarded their reputation as non-sectarian bodies,
a reputation also promoted by others, as the following eulogy from an official
government source suggests:
Sectarianism is contrary to trade union policy…. Members with all types
of religious affiliation, as well as atheists and communists, have played a
full part in the development of trade unionism…with hardly any exception,
sectarianism stops at the factory gates.
(NI Information Service 1979, quoted in Rolston 1981:69)

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

The structure of the trade union movement in Northern Ireland is complex,

reflecting the history of partition, and the alliance of sections of the labour
movement with either unionism or nationalism. There have been a number of
splits and fusions, both of individual unions and their national bodies. The Irish
Congress of Trade Unions was established in 1959, with the major unions from
both North and South affiliating to it. The Northern Committee is
semiautonomous, and has managed to retain the affiliations of unions representing
both sections of the community. But according to Rolston, unity was only possible
at an institutional level, and the ‘institution became disproportionately important
in Northern Ireland trade unionism’ (Rolston 1981:74).
There are three main types of union in Northern Ireland. Firstly, branches
of British-based unions with regional offices in Northern Ireland, such as the
National Association of Teachers in Further and Higher Education (NATFHE)
and UNISON, the public employees’ union. Secondly, branches of Dublinbased
unions, such as Service Industrial Professional Technical Union (SIPTU)
(formerly the Irish Transport and General Workers’ Union (ITGWU)) and
the Irish National Teachers’ Organisation (INTO). Thirdly, Northern Ireland-
based unions such as the Northern Ireland Public Service Alliance (NIPSA)
and the Ulster Teachers’ Union (UTU). These unions have strong links with
equivalent unions in Britain. The largest union in Northern Ireland, the
Amalgamated Transport and General Workers’ Union (ATGWU) is a section
of the British TGWU. The union also has a relatively small membership in
the Republic.
Many people have little option about which trade union to join, since the
appropriate union is determined by their occupation. Some, however, can choose
to join either a British-based or Irish-based union, and the choice will be to some
extent based on political leanings and religion. The Ulster Teachers’ Union, for
example, recruits mainly among teachers in controlled (Protestant) schools, while
the INTO, though it claims a membership in all sectors, recruits mainly in
Catholic schools. Teachers can also join the smaller British-based unions. The
largest British union, the National Union of Teachers (NUT), does not recruit
in Northern Ireland, but has close links with the UTU.
The Irish Congress of Trade Unions recently created a new post of equalities
officer. Ann Hope, who was appointed to the post, is also the first woman
officer of the ICTU in Northern Ireland. The ICTU has established a women’s
committee, which brings together representatives from all affiliated unions,
meets monthly and has produced a number of policy documents on women’s
issues. The committee has been involved in research projects on a range of
issues concerning women, including ‘atypical’ work (Abraham et al. 1994) and
women and citizenship (WCRG 1995) and education. The committee has
also promoted the importance of trade unions to women through a range of
community initiatives. Young women are a particular target for these strategies.
Many may never have been in employment where trade unions have
traditionally organised:

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‘There is a gap in the perception of young women about the relevance of

trade unions, which we need to bridge.’20
With the high levels of unemployment in Northern Ireland, the ICTU has
prioritised increased employment opportunities. Ann is concerned that it is male
employment which is seen as the more important:
‘Women’s issues are not seen as a priority. Male trade unionists don’t see
unemployment for women as such a serious problem as it is for men.’
There were 203,949 members of ICTU affiliated unions in Northern Ireland in
1995, of whom 44 per cent were women (ICTU 1995). While trade union
membership overall has declined slightly since 1985, women’s membership has
increased. The most heavily female-dominated unions are in public services.
Women make up 60 per cent of NIPSA membership; 75 per cent of UNISON
(an amalgamation of NUPE and NALGO) and 72 per cent in the INTO. Women
are least well represented in craft and building unions, reflecting their small
numbers in the workforce in these areas.

Table 7.2 Membership of ICTU affiliated unions in Northern

Ireland, 1995

Source: Irish Congress of Trades Unions, Information Bulletin, 1995

In common with British unions, even those with a mainly female membership
tend to be male led. An exception is NUPE (now UNISON), where the regional
officer and several other officials are women. The union has been prominent in
pushing for gender and religious equality. This is partly a reflection of its
membership, mainly low-paid staff and predominantly women. It also reflects
the union’s female leadership, which has unusually close relations with its
members (see Cockburn 1991). The leading officers have been prominent in
the EOCNI and the regional officer is one of the signatories of the MacBride
principles.
The leadership of the union has been enthusiastic in its use of litigation as
part of its strategy against low pay. The union supported five of its women

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members in what became Northern Ireland’s most protracted equal value case.
The claimants were part-time domestic staff at the Royal Victoria Hospital in
Catholic West Belfast. They claimed that their work was of equal value to two
male comparators, a porter and groundsman who were on a higher grade. The
claim was precipitated when a new grading structure was introduced which
reduced women’s earnings.
The case was settled in 1995, after nine years, and the level of compensation
achieved—a few hundred pounds each—was minimal. The case has nevertheless
been of major importance to the claimants and their colleagues in changing
attitudes about the nature of women’s work. One of the claimants was Rosaleen
Davidson, who has been working the early evening shift since the 1970s. She
described how management had viewed the women’s work:
‘Domestic work is traditionally seen as one of the lowest types of occupation.
Management see it as unskilled work, work all women can do from birth.
There’s no formal training in the hospital. New staff are shown what to do
by their colleagues on the job.’21
For Rosaleen and the other claimants, the case allowed women to ‘value
themselves and their work’. It demonstrated the importance of domestic work
to patient care. As Rosaleen put it elsewhere:
‘Many years ago, people didn’t understand how essential hygiene was for
good health care. Today everyone knows its importance, but the authorities
aren’t prepared to pay for it. Our hospital is dirty.’
(quoted in NUPE 1992:112)
In pursuing their claim, the women were supported not only by their male
comparators, but more generally by workers in the hospital and in the community.
The case won widespread publicity, and Rosaleen herself featured in a television
documentary comparing working practices in Northern Ireland and Scandinavia.
Local people (men and women) were ‘delighted’ at the publicity over the case.
The support of the union was crucial in maintaining the determination of the
claimants to continue the case, as legal obstacles made it appear at times that the
issue would never be resolved. The union has provided a supportive network,
both within the hospital and outside. Since women have taken on the role of
shop steward, there is now 100 per cent trade union membership among
domestics. Rosaleen described how the experience of the equal value case
increased her respect for her fellow workers: ‘Ward-maids weren’t expected to
have values or opinions. They were just supposed to be work horses. They
weren’t seen or appreciated’ (NUPE 1992:112).
Through the union’s education programme, many women have developed wider
involvement in the union and the community. The women’s committee’s Oral Health
and History Project culminated in the publication of Women’s Voices (NUPE 1992),
which was launched both in Belfast and in the House of Commons. One of its five
authors, school meals supervisor Anna McGonigle, later became National President

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of the Union. Another, Mary Ferris, also a part-time domestic worker at the Royal
Victoria Hospital, is now on the union’s National Executive Committee. The book
celebrates the work of women, and in the words of Inez McCormack, the union’s
regional officer, it is, ‘the story of the invisible. It is the story of women who have
struggled in the shadows that we may come into the light’ (NUPE 1992:7).

Trade unions and sectarianism

Trade unions in Northern Ireland have promoted themselves as havens of
normality, as almost by definition non-sectarian. The development of trade
unionism has however been intimately linked to sectarianism. The history of
the trade union movement everywhere is one of both exclusion and inclusion.
The principle of working-class solidarity has coexisted with narrow and sectional
interests. That trade unionists have embraced ‘brotherhood’ as epitomising trade
union values is itself indicative. Trade union organisation has been built on the
struggles of groups of workers to gain control over their working conditions.
This has involved opposition to the demands of capital, but it has also been
based on restricting access to the advantages won in these struggles, often through
excluding groups on the grounds of sex, ethnicity or religion (Cockburn 1983;
Rolston 1981; Walby 1990). The definition of skilled work is itself socially
constructed, and has often been linked to exclusions based on sex and ethnicity
(see Chapter 6). In Northern Ireland, where sectarian relations prevail, ‘trade
unions, like other elements in the society, reconstitute and reproduce these
relations’ (Rolston 1981:71).
Trade unions, and individual trade union members, have at different times
challenged sectarianism, accommodated to it, and actively reinforced it. The
leadership of the official trade union movement has often found itself isolated
from the wider membership. The majority of the Belfast Trades Council for example
broadly supported the civil rights movement in the 1960s, while most of the
membership, particularly of the Protestant-dominated craft unions, were hostile.
The gulf between the official movement and the rank and file was
demonstrated with the Ulster Workers Council strike in 1974. The stoppage
was a political act aimed at bringing down the power-sharing executive and
returning to majority (Protestant) rule. Len Murray, President of the TUC, led
a ‘return to work’ march in Belfast to try to bring an end to the action. The
attendance was derisory and the event a humiliating failure.
The official trade union movement has found it extremely difficult to confront
the issue of sectarianism. The predominant response has been an attempt to
build unity around economic ‘bread and butter’ issues. This attitude has
sometimes meant that people who challenge sectarian practices within the
movement are themselves denounced as sectarian (Rolston 1981).
Accommodation to the sectarian divide can also be a short step from acceptance
of sectarianism itself. Attempts in the trade union movement to limit discussion
to ‘trade union issues’ have often involved a failure to challenge sectarian practices.

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Within mixed trade union branches, the most common response is ‘avoidance’.
A constant theme reiterated here, as elsewhere, is that ‘we don’t inquire into
somebody’s religion. We treat everybody the same’. Fear of dividing the
membership precludes any confrontation of the issue, or of wider political debate:
‘we don’t ask about religion’ becomes ‘we don’t discuss politics’.
For many trade unionists there is a desire to act as if ‘all that’ was left outside
the workplace, that sectarianism finishes at the factory gates. At the Royal Victoria
Hospital, whose location in West Belfast has often placed it at the centre of the
conflict, the attempt to divorce trade union issues from the political situation has
not been easy. Three members of staff have been murdered within the hospital
itself in political/sectarian attacks. The unions organised a stoppage in protest,
uniting both Protestant and Catholic workers. The organiser told me that the
murders were carried out by ‘people from outside’.22
Support for fair employment and equal opportunities became official policy
of all the major unions and the Northern Committee of the ICTU during the
1980s. The ICTU has backed campaigns such as Counteract, which was
established in 1990 to work against sectarianism in the workplace. According to
Billy Robinson, coordinator, there is a great deal of work to be done to raise
awareness. People can say they support the union line, without really
understanding what it means in practice. In this they are not different from
trade unionists dealing with race or gender. Most people are reluctant to talk
about the issue, but according to Billy, once you get through the ‘pain barrier’
they become more open. The organisation recently organised a women-only
seminar. Billy, who observed part of the meeting, described the difference that
having an all-female group made:
‘There was more empathy in the room with only women there. Women
would have felt inhibited from raising issues in mixed (male and female)
company. The group included Protestants and Catholics, and women were
able to talk about their experiences in a less threatening environment.’23
Those in the public sector, particularly NUPE and NIPSA, have been more
vigorous in pursuing this agenda. The NUPE members I spoke to seemed more
comfortable with discussing sectarianism openly. Rosaleen, describing the situation
among her own colleagues, said that you ‘can speak without denying your
background’. The union has also raised the issue publicly. Inez McCormack claimed
that, ‘Discrimination has been “invisible”, and the union has “named” the issue.’24
The union had however faced opposition from the Trades Union Congress
(TUC) in giving such a high profile to sectarianism, since the issue tends to rock
the boat among its affiliated trade unions.

The Troubles
Unions have had to steer a difficult course in relation to the Troubles. According
to Ann Hope, ‘we walk a tightrope’. There is often a tension between political

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issues and maintaining unity within the trade union movement. The ICTU
cannot take a stand on the constitutional issue, but the fact that ICTU is an all-
Ireland body and people travel to the South helps break down barriers:
‘The ICTU has policy on strip searching, political vetting, internment.
We put them forward as human rights issues not constitutional. We lost
members over internment, but most of them rejoined.’25
The Troubles inevitably impinge on working life for many people. At the Royal
Victoria Hospital, armed soldiers patrol the streets outside, while fortified police
stations and army barracks tower over the houses surrounding the hospital. The
hospital regularly receives casualties from the violence. Soldiers have at times
been stationed inside the hospital, both to guard patients and for surveillance.
The unions at the Royal have a reputation for militancy, and resistance to
government policies. The majority of its manual workers are from the local area
in the heart of Catholic West Belfast. Trade union struggles have sometimes
brought the workers into direct conflict with the Army. The contradictions of
attempting to separate trade union from political issues developed during a long-
drawn-out strike in 1986. According to NUPE’s general secretary, Rodney
Bickerstaffe:
‘the strikers, joined by 100 women workers, were confronted by a convoy
of 17 police and military Landrovers complete with personnel carrying
machine guns. In another terrifying scene, the divisional Mobile Support
Unit was drafted in.’26
The workers at the Royal were, in Bickerstaffe’s words, treated ‘as enemies of
the state’. But he was careful to stress the separation of the economic battle from
politics:
‘Such provocation and intimidation…must be condemned by all who share
civilised values, regardless of their views of the troubles in Northern Ireland.
Ancillary workers at the Royal Victoria do not want to be dragged into a
political battlefield.’27
It is significant that it was at the Royal, where the striking workforce was
predominantly Catholic, that a successful protest was made against the use of
the Army in an industrial dispute. For Protestant workers, the use of ‘their’
army raises contradictions between their position as Unionists and trade unionists.

THE FEMINIST MOVEMENT

The 1970s saw the development of feminist campaigns in Northern Ireland
which challenged the conventional view of women’s role, particularly in relation
to the family and the regulation of sexuality. The women’s movement has faced
enormous difficulties. The relations between Church and state have sustained a
strongly conservative family ideology, which is underpinned by some of the

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most restrictive legislation in Europe. The women’s movement, like feminist

campaigns everywhere, has split on grounds of ideology and tactics. But the
sectarian divide has often been at the root of these divisions, and has proved the
most intractable (Roulston 1989). Women, by and large, give their allegiance to
political parties and campaigns representing their own communities, and these
loyalties have often overshadowed the unity around ‘women’s issues’.
In addition women face opposition from their own communities if they challenge
community beliefs. For Catholic women, women’s rights have often been seen as
secondary to the national struggle. There has been continuing debate, dating back
to partition, on the extent to which demands for reform should be made on
Westminster by those who oppose the British connection (Ward 1983).
Protestant women face a powerful fundamentalist opposition to demands for
sexual freedom. Feminism is seen as alien to Protestantism, and associated with
Republicanism. The introduction of contraception was opposed by Unionists
on the more practical grounds that if Protestants control their fertility, they will
be outbred by Catholics (MeWilliams 1991:89). This distrust of feminism persists
into the 1990s. Judith was involved with a research project on women’s needs in
a loyalist area. She described being threatened by people claiming to speak for
loyalist paramilitaries who were suspicious of this kind of activity in ‘their’ area.
She was told to ‘watch your back, fenian lover’.28
The Northern Ireland Women’s Rights Movement, founded in 1975, has
played a major role in feminist campaigning. The movement attempted to develop
a strategy that would ‘unite women from all political traditions or none’ (Roulston
1989:225) and specifically engage working-class women. It avoided taking a
position on the political situation, but neutrality proved difficult to sustain since
the priorities for its campaign by implication suggested that ‘great progress could
be made within the existing political framework’ (ibid.: 227). A split soon
developed, with the formation of the Socialist Women’s Group which believed
that women should campaign against British rule, arguing that imperialism is
crucial in sustaining women’s oppression. Divisions became more intense during
the Republican hunger strikes in the 1980s, when the issue of support for women
Republican prisoners in Armagh jail ‘became a metaphor for everything that
has kept Irish women divided from each other’ (Ward 1991:156). Julie, a
Protestant, who was an active feminist, recalled her experience of the women’s
movement at this time:
‘Nationalists were more politicised than the Protestants then. Their
awareness of oppression of Catholics made them more aware of their
oppression as women. This didn’t happen so much in the Protestant
community, and this set the tone for the women’s movement.’29
She felt excluded by the dominant ethos of the movement:
‘I wasn’t religious, but I went to a Protestant church school, I was brought
up with that culture. Our perceptions were different, but it was not possible

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to express it in the women’s movement. The only experience that was

valued was of the downtrodden Catholic woman.’
Julie is now a community worker in Protestant West Belfast, and joined one of
the new Protestant parties:
‘Until the last few years, I was slow to come back to my identity. Feminist
women tended to have a more nationalist tinge. I was denying what I
was—disallowing my background and life experience—that feeling brought
me back to understanding my strong Protestant identity.’
Maeve was also active at the time, and hoped that it would be possible to build
a united women’s movement. Her political development since then has taken
her in a different direction from Julie:
‘In the late 1970s I thought women could come together and make their
own demands. But with the debates around strip searching and whether
or not it is a “feminist issue” I realised it was not possible to ignore the
issues which divide us. I have gone right round over a twenty year period
to believing in United Ireland as a priority.’30
The early 1980s saw women devoting their energies to more practical issues as the
possibility of building a united movement continued to elude them. The movement
nevertheless achieved some notable successes. Divorce became easier in 1978, and the
Equal Pay and Sex Discrimination Acts were transferred to Northern Ireland. The
Equal Opportunities Commission for Northern Ireland (established under sex
discrimination legislation) was transferred to Northern Ireland in the 1970s, and was
reprieved from abolition after successful lobbying (MeWilliams 1991:96). Legislation
on domestic violence was amended in 1980, and women’s refuges started to gain
funding and support. The Northern Ireland Abortion Law Reform Association held a
successful tribunal in 1987 to ‘challenge the hypocrisy of society’ on the issue (NIALRA
1989:2). Its campaign for the introduction of the 1967 Abortion Act into Northern
Ireland has so far been unsuccessful, and this remains a major unresolved issue.

WOMEN IN COMMUNITY GROUPS

The past ten years have seen a burgeoning of activity by community groups
across Northern Ireland. Women have been at the forefront of this activity,
which has involved a host of groups and organisations, including both mixed
and specifically women’s organisations. In a study of women’s activity in the
community, Rooney and Woods (1995) identified a variety of organisations
ranging from mother and toddler groups to community development associations.
Another recent development has been the establishment of locally based women’s
centres. These provide advice and support for women, and are involved in a
range of activities, including research projects on women’s needs, and education
classes. They also provide a base for local women’s groups.

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Rooney and Woods found that women involved in the groups they studied
identified their role very strongly as non-political—distinguishing between ‘social’
or ‘women’s’ issues and ‘politics’. Two-thirds of their respondents stated that
their concerns ‘are more to do with people than with politics’ (Rooney and
Woods 1995:37). They found, however that much of the work of these
organisations was a response to ‘the effects of unemployment and poverty in
these communities’ (ibid.: 61). These were the same issues and problems which
consume the time and energy of local women councillors—those who have chosen
to work within the formal political sphere.
Explicitly feminist movements and campaigns have only ever involved a
relatively small number of women in Northern Ireland, as these campaigns do
elsewhere. The women’s centres have involved a much broader range of women
in activity around ‘women’s issues’. May Blood, Chair of the Shankill Women’s
Forum, was a member of a recent delegation of women’s groups to an
international women’s conference in Boston, USA:
‘The other delegates were surprised that the women from Northern Ireland
were mainly working class. All the other delegations—including the one
from the south of Ireland—were middle-class.’31
Community involvement developed as a response to problems of social deprivation,
particularly in the inner-city areas. Some of those now involved were already
veteran campaigners. Joyce McCartan, who died in early 1996, had been active
since the early 1970s, when she protested at Mrs Thatcher’s decision to stop free
milk for school children. Joyce helped found the Lower Ormeau Road Drop In
Centre in 1987, which became a thriving centre for activity within the community,
and has its own cafe known as the Lamplighter. She said:
‘Men didn’t think women could organise. They laughed at us at first, but
then some of the husbands got involved.’32
Work in the community has traditionally been a ‘safer’ area for women’s activity—
not quite part of the formal, public sphere. Community groups also provide a
space for more radical groups and individuals for whom the concerns and
practices of the formal political parties hold no attractions (Nelson 1984). Feminists
are becoming increasingly involved in community organisation. Disillusionment
with the failure of attempts to build a united feminist movement led many to
turn to an area where tangible results could be achieved, and where their
organisational and communication skills could be used to practical effect. This
history of involvement with the feminist movement is not generally shared by
centre users. Jane, an academic and feminist, helped found a women’s centre in
Belfast and is now on the management committee. She recalled the discussion
on the committee about the appointment of a new director:
‘We met to discuss the criteria for the person we were looking for. One
woman on the management committee said “She should not be a feminist”.

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I objected, pointing out that I am a feminist myself. She said “of course I
didn’t mean you”. I don’t fit the stereotype of a feminist, and the women
from the centre respect me and my views. Many women will not identify
with feminism although they support lots of the same ideas.’33
Rooney and Woods distinguish between what they call Professional Activists
(PAs) and the members of community groups. The PAs play a leading role in
the establishment and organisation of the groups, but often live outside the local
area. They are generally more highly educated than most centre users, and their
work in the centres is often related to their employment, either directly in the
case of community development workers for example, or indirectly (e.g.
academics or trade union officials). They often have a long history of political
involvement and campaigning in formal political parties, civil liberties groups
and the women’s movement.
A striking feature of PAs is the overrepresentation of Catholics. Of seventeen
questioned by Rooney and Woods, eleven were from nationalist backgrounds
and five came from outside Northern Ireland (1995:48). Many first became
politically active during the civil rights movement of the late 1960s. As Jane—
unusually a Protestant PA—put it:
‘Catholics are anti-establishment, they believe in self-help. Protestants never
had to do it. But now they are disillusioned with their MPs, and feel they
have to do it for themselves, particularly the women.’34
Community organisations were slower to develop in Protestant areas. The response
of Protestants to the success of Catholics in community work has been ambivalent.
Eileen Bell of the Alliance Party recalled working in a Protestant community:
‘The women I was working with saw a new community centre in the
neighbouring area and asked “How can we get one?”. I said you had to
apply. One woman said “We shouldn’t have to do that. We are the people.
We should get it”.’35
On the other hand Protestant women have often been pragmatic in their use of
the experience and skills of Catholic activists in establishing their own groups.
A substantial network of community and women’s centres has developed in
Protestant areas. As well as providing education and advice, a great deal of
research work has been done from these centres in investigating the needs of
local women in Protestant areas.36 The Shankill Women’s Forum was established
in 1994 to provide a focus for women in the area. The Chair, May Blood,
described its origins:
‘Women have always done all the community work here, but it has not
been recognised. The Shankill bomb brought the community together.
We organised community information days, aimed at women, and provided
food and a creche. They weren’t formal, they were fun days, and over 200
women came along. Before this all the community activities on the Shankill

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had been geared to men and boys. We agreed on eighteen things we wanted
for the road—bus runs, information sessions and so on. This led to the
Women’s Forum which now meets every month.’37
Even in Protestant areas, the majority of professional workers in women’s centres
are Catholics. The implications are not necessarily addressed directly within the
centres, but it may have helped to shift the agendas within these groupings, and to
make the users more open to outside influences. The 1994 Annual Report of the
Shankill Women’s Centre, for example, describes a range of activities outside the
more traditional notions of appropriate activities for Protestant women—including
classes in Women’s Studies and in the Irish language and history, and trips to the
Gaeltacht in the Republic. Its programme of meetings has raised a number of
extremely sensitive issues, including domestic violence and child abuse. Rooney
and Woods note that users of women’s centres in Protestant areas are more likely
to mention cross-community links as arising from the work of the groups—suggesting
that this may be attributable to the predominance of Catholic PAs.
The majority of women’s centres are based in areas which are either
overwhelmingly Protestant or Catholic. They therefore tend to serve one
community or the other. One of the few in ‘neutral territory’ in Belfast is the
Downtown Women’s Centre in the city centre. It is also the most explicitly
feminist, and has its origins in the women’s rights movement of the 1970s. Staff
at the centre have provided advice and support to women on a range of issues,
including abortion, which it is more difficult to provide in the community-based
centres. It has also provided a meeting place for groupings which would be
uncomfortable in more community-based centres, such as a group for survivors
of sexual abuse, and lesbian groups.
For other centres based within tight-knit communities, openly raising issues
such as abortion, or lesbian rights could be problematic. They are dependent on
their communities for support, and ‘there may be negative attitudes when groups
…cater for unmarried mothers or battered wives’ (Rooney and Woods 1995:38).
Staff from centres in both Protestant and Catholic areas spoke of the problems
of raising these issues in their own centres (see Chapter 5).
The Lower Ormeau Road Women’s Centre, in a mixed area outside the city
centre, aims to provide a meeting place for both Catholic and Protestant women.
Joyce McCartan, the main inspiration behind its foundation, described herself as
a ‘family feminist’. A Protestant, she was married to a Catholic, and lost seventeen
relatives in the violence, including her son Gary who was killed in a sectarian
attack. She lived all her adult life in the area, and believed that sectarianism could
be defeated by women bringing up their children to understand ‘the other side’.
The women’s centres have provided the focus for a range of community
activities and organisations which have had a significant impact on the lives of
many of the users. Rooney and Woods asked centre users about the benefits
they felt they gained from the group. Respondents were asked to tick three
boxes, and the most popular response (62.7 per cent overall) was ‘friendship

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and support’. Other responses suggested a range of benefits, ranging from self-
development to more social interests. They suggest that the centres perform a
range of functions and meet a variety of needs.
Some striking differences were apparent between the users in the different
areas. Area A is predominantly Catholic; Area B Protestant; and C more mixed
but mainly Protestant. The most significant differences were in relation to
‘improved self-confidence’—which nationalist women were almost three times as
likely to cite as those in area B; and in ‘child enjoys company’ which was
mentioned by twice as many from the Protestant areas as the Catholic area A.
Catholic women on the other hand were more likely to favour ‘child in creche’.
Catholic women appeared to see ‘knowledge of opportunities’ as more important.
Rooney and Woods’ findings suggest that Catholic women tend to prioritise
‘personal development’, while Protestant women are more interested in ‘personal
support’. While they do not explore the differences in detail they could be seen
to relate to more general features of the two communities. Community activity
is at an earlier stage in Protestant areas, when developing support networks is
crucial. In Catholic areas, with their longer history of activism, women see less
need for personal support and are more interested in expanding their own
opportunities. The greater emphasis on the children’s needs in the Protestant
areas also suggests less acceptance of women’s independent needs. This could
reflect the greater hostility to feminism in the Protestant community.
Whatever their reasons for joining the groups, women felt that their
involvement had widened their awareness and raised their expectations, especially

Table 7.3 Benefits received from staying in the women’s group (%)

Source: Rooney and Woods 1995:89

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

for their daughters (Rooney and Woods 1995:436). Some of the activities, such
as mother and toddler clubs, have been aimed at supporting women’s role within
the family. Others, including the education classes, have allowed women to look
beyond the family and develop some autonomy. The centres have also provided
a space where women have been able to talk about difficult subjects. As Susan,
who works in a women’s centre in a strongly Protestant area, explained:
‘We had one of our meetings about child abuse. It did cause problems, but
the women were supportive to each other.’38
Women’s commitment and energy has forced women’s issues onto the agenda
in their own communities. The demand for childcare, accessible transport, and
other major concerns raised by women’s groups, have been incorporated into
the ‘community development’ agenda.
Another development has been the growth of networking between women’s
groups, and particularly the development of cross-community links. While those
involved in community work point to a long history of such links, they have in
the past tended to be limited; and the sensitivity—and possible dangers—associated
with moving into other territory meant they were little publicised. The 1990s
saw an expansion of such links, and a more open acknowledgement of cross-
community work. The ceasefires gave a boost to this type of work.
The Women’s Information Group organises monthly meetings in women’s
centres, alternating between Protestant and Catholic areas. A range of issues of
concern to women are discussed in meetings often involving between 150 and
200 women. This approach has not been without problems. Kathleen Feenan,
one of the organisers of the meetings, described the situation after the Greysteel
massacre, a sectarian attack on a Catholic bar which left several dead:
‘We had our next meeting planned for Sandy Row [a Protestant area of
Belfast]. I was scared stiff. Some people suggested cancelling, but I insisted
we went ahead. There was tremendous tension in the area, but Catholic
women came along and it was a success. If we’d stopped the meeting, it
could have been the end of the group. Every dreadful event could have
been used as a reason to cancel.’39
Another notable example of cooperation was the joint approach by Falls and
Shankill Women’s Centres to Belfast City Council when the Council cut off
funding for the Falls Centre. This led to the formation of the Women’s Support
Network. As Jane noted:
‘The women in the Shankill Centre were very courageous. They spoke up
for the women in the Falls. That took a lot of guts in the environment of
the Shankill Road.’40
The Women’s Support Network is based in the Downtown women’s centre. It
has continued to bring women together from across the political spectrum to
campaign for greater resources for women. Republican and loyalist women have

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been able to work within the network, even though, and possibly because, they
recognise the limits on this agenda. The network is not attempting to be a
substitute for a political party, and many of the women involved are active in
nationalist or unionist politics.
While cross-community cooperation has become such an important element
of the work of women’s centres, this has rarely involved open discussion of the
divisions between them. Cooperation has been based on putting aside these
differences and getting on with the practical issues on which women can agree.
‘Avoidance’ often extends to the individual centres. Staff and users frequently
assert that they do not discuss politics. With the ceasefires several months old,
one staff member said that they had never had a discussion of the peace process,
and that it tends to be avoided in informal discussion in the centres. Rooney and
Woods found that for many women community groups provided a relief from
politics. Reluctance to discuss political events openly could also be a response to
potential sensitivity and even danger: in many areas a large proportion of the
population are involved in paramilitary activity, and many women have relatives
in jail. Avoidance seemed particularly apparent in Protestant areas, while women
in nationalist areas appeared less reluctant to discuss political concerns.
This approach does not allow a direct confrontation of sectarianism. While
the issue is avoided, it does not necessarily become less virulent. Staff at some
centres point to the continuing hold of sectarian ideas among users: in one case,
a women’s group based at a centre in a Protestant area retracted an invitation to
a community activist from another centre: although this was not the ostensible
reason, staff believed it was because she was a Protestant married to a Catholic.
A new project, ‘Women into Politics’, based at the Downtown Women’s Centre,
began in 1995 to attempt to increase women’s representation in politics, and to
encourage political discussion between women. The project aims to be inclusive
of all women, and to ‘facilitate discussion amongst women who share common
political concerns and experience as women, but who have different views and
aspirations about constitutional politics.’41 The coordinator of the project, Joanne
Vance, told me that at the meetings organised through the project women have
started to talk about issues which they normally avoid in ‘mixed company’:
‘We had a really successful meeting in Derry last week. Women were
talking about the constitutional issues, the issues around the peace process.
Some of them said that this was the first time they had discussed these
issues openly, and they found it surprisingly enjoyable.’42
As the centres have become more established with paid staff, they are increasingly
dependent on funding from a range of sources. Funding bodies often attempt to
impose an agenda, which may not be appropriate to the work involved. The
channelling of funding through Church organisations, for example, may create
tensions, as many of the issues which have been raised by women’s groups—
particularly around domestic violence and sexuality—are those which the
Churches have attempted to deny.

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There has recently been an insistence on a ‘community relations’ element

as a condition for official funding, which may be ‘to the detriment of important
issue-based activity for women’ (Taillon 1992:7). The agenda of reconciliation,
assiduously promoted by official bodies, is based on the assumption that there
are no differences of power. It also presents the state as a neutral arbiter, and
prevents women from confronting issues of state violence and breaches of
human rights.
The suspension in 1996 of funding by the City Council to two of Belfast’s
most active women’s centres—the Shankill and the Downtown Women’s
Centres—exposed the fragility of women’s organisations in this context,
particularly when their work begins to conflict with traditional attitudes. No
reasons have been given for the withdrawal of the grants, but as Judith put it,
many women suspect that the Shankill Centre was considered too ‘soft on
nationalism’.43 The Downtown Centre, with its more overtly feminist stance,
has also generated opposition from the majority on the City Council. The
impact of the loss of funding has been especially severe, since it has led to the
closure of its advice service.

CONCLUSION
During the years of ‘the Troubles’, women have made substantial moves into
the public sphere, both in employment and in the largely informal politics of
community groups and women’s centres. Men increasingly recognise women as
‘the backbone of the community’. Women nevertheless remain largely excluded
from the formal political process, and this exclusion is evident in the lack of
involvement, particularly of Protestant women, in the current negotiations around
the peace process.
Men have been supportive of women’s community organisations, but this
may be partly because they have not engaged in mainstream political debates,
and have not fundamentally threatened men’s own position. As Julie, a member
of the PUP, put it:
‘Women are wanted in the party only up to a point. Some issues—such as
prisoners—are seen as male issues, and don’t require a women’s input.
There is a political agenda and a women’s agenda in the party.’44

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 8

WOMEN AND THE ‘PEACE

PROCESS’

‘For all of us, peace is the bottom line. For 25 years politicians have said
that it’s been women who have held Northern Ireland together through
all the violence. What’s always happened before is that we’ve been pushed
back into the margins. This must not happen again.’1

May Blood, Chair of Shankill Women’s Forum addressing a meeting of the

newly formed Northern Ireland Women’s Coalition in May 1996, expressed
women’s continuing frustration with the ‘peace process’. On the one hand, women
are seen—by both men and women themselves—as the ‘backbone of the
community’ and the potential peace makers who can leave their differences
aside and talk to each other. On the other hand, it is the very concerns on which
women have found common cause which appear to be excluded from current
debates in Northern Ireland. Women—celebrated as the peace makers—have been
largely absent from the ‘peace process’.
The Women’s Coalition is composed of community activists, trade unionists
and academics. It was formed to promote a women’s agenda in the elections for
the Northern Ireland Forum in 1996, the gateway to all-party negotiations.
Recognising that they had differences over the constitutional issue, they agreed
to work together on matters where they could unite, such as childcare and
employment opportunities.
Women have been prominent in peace movements throughout the history of
‘the Troubles’. The best-known movement was the Peace People, which built up
enormous support during the 1970s. Its organisers claimed that women could
talk to each other where men had failed, and that if they stood together they
could stop the violence. The energy and commitment soon dissipated, however,
as women were forced to take a position on security force violence, and traditional
political divisions reappeared.
The peace movement has continued, but now has a much lower profile. The
organisation Women Together for Peace has been campaigning for over twenty
years. It promotes a Christian, interdenominational message, and organises
activities such as ‘talking circles’ to foster understanding between the two
communities. The peace groups have not been prominent in the current ‘peace

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process’. The difficulties of their work became in some ways more exposed with
the ceasefires. As Eileen Bell, a prominent campaigner, put it:
‘Our job was easier when we were dealing with armed conflict. It was easy
to get people to sign up to say stop the killing, but since the ceasefire it has
been more difficult to get people to talk of reconciliation.’2
Pat Campbell of Women Together for Peace, expressed frustration at the slow
pace of change. She also recognised that finding a lasting peace is more difficult
than ending the violence: ‘Everyone wants their own peace, not anyone else’s
peace’.3
The recent growth of community activity has produced a more solid basis
for women’s organisation and support across the sectarian divide. Networks
have been established over many years, and relations of trust built up as women
have worked together for common aims. Many women would like to see this
reflected in the peace negotiations. This point was made in a discussion of the
peace process at a women’s group in Protestant East Belfast:
‘The group felt that women had no say in the peace negotiations and that
none was involved in a serious way in the talks…they believed that women’s
concerns were important and need to be heard, and that women on both
sides of the political and religious divide were more compassionate and
tolerant than men and more ready to try to understand different points of
view.’4
As Joyce McCartan of the Ormeau Road centre put it: ‘Women talk more sense.
Men just say no’.5
But women cannot speak with one voice. The conflict, and therefore the
peace, has had different meanings for different women. The separation of
‘women’s issues’ from the mainstream constitutional issues places limits on
women’s agenda, and risks marginalising women’s voices.
Reaction to the ceasefires was very different in the two communities. In both
there was an overwhelming relief that the violence that had dominated their
lives appeared to be at an end. Hazel Gordon described the way it had changed
everyday life:
‘There has been a reduction in tension. We dealt with the Troubles by not
dealing with it. I made my son ring if he was not going to come home.
Now I don’t have to do it. You don’t notice normality. I have always gone
everywhere in Belfast, but now I notice I don’t worry, the tension has
gone that I did not realise was there.’6
Although the sense of relief was common to all women, the wider response to
the ceasefires was more distinct. There was a euphoria in the nationalist
community which was not echoed in Protestant areas, where a much greater
suspicion and caution prevailed. Excitement in the nationalist community sprang
partly from the expectation that some concessions must have been won to lead

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the IRA to lay down its arms. The development of some form of agreed structures
for the whole of Ireland was anticipated. For the Protestant community any
such deal would have been anathema.
For nationalist women, the ceasefires appeared to open up the possibility of
developing a new, more inclusive agenda. A broad nationalist grouping, Clar na
mBan (women’s agenda) had already started meeting in 1992 to discuss ‘the
future of women in the context of Irish national unity’ (Clar na mBan 1994:3). It
became more active when the Hume-Adams talks, which took place in 1993,
appeared to be offering the possibility of an end to violence. In 1994, Clar na
mBan organised a conference entitled ‘Women’s Agenda for Peace’. The
conference brought together women from across Ireland, and the conference
report has been widely disseminated. Speakers and participants embraced a wide
spectrum of nationalist opinion, including women active in the Republican
movement and some prominent critics of mainstream Republicanism such as
Bernadette McAliskey.
The aim of the Clar na mBan conference was to try to ensure that women
would have a voice in any discussions about future structures and policies. The
Hume-Adams talks were taking place in an atmosphere of secrecy which excluded
open debate. As Bernadette McAliskey declared:
I reject the Hume-Adams Agreement for the very simple reason, I haven’t
seen it. I am not buying into it until I do. …I am entitled to set my own
agenda and my own agenda remains the same.
(Clarna mBan 1994:15)
Oonagh Marron of the Falls women’s centre, opening the conference, criticised
the terms in which the debate was proceeding in the nationalist community:
The danger is that once again we are going to be asked to bury our
demands, this time in the common purpose of achieving peace. I think it is
time to send a message to those negotiating on our behalf that this time
around our support will not be unconditional.
(ibid.: 9)
Clar na mBan rejects the long-standing tradition within nationalism of seeing
republicanism and feminism as in competition with each other. As Marie Quiery,
an active member of the group, put it:
‘I don’t see the politics of partition and of feminism as separate. They are
both necessary parts of the struggle for justice and greater autonomy.’7
Clare Hackett, another leading member of Clar na mBan, takes issue with the
view that nationalism is a romantic obsession or an historical anachronism. For
Republican feminists it is ‘the daily struggle against the injustice of British and
Unionist rule and the fight for equality and control over our lives’ (Hackett
1995:114). Bernadette McAliskey criticised the limited way in which the issue
of violence was being discussed by those who were dominating the ‘peace process’:

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

When the government says they are talking about guaranteeing an end to
violence, they are talking about the IRA handing over the weapons. They
are not talking about an end to the Prevention of Terrorism Act. …They are
not talking about making it a criminal offence for a man to beat his wife.
(Clar na mBan 1994:15)
The announcement of the ceasefires came only months after this conference.
The cessation of violence gave an enormous impetus to the debate. It allowed
women to talk about alternatives with greater confidence as the new situation
created an unaccustomed feeling of security. The optimism was, however,
gradually lost in the long months of prevarication which followed. Maeve recalls
how optimism gradually turned to despair:
‘After the ceasefires there was a terrific lot of talking, but this has been
dissipated. The key issue is being defined by nationalists as all-party talks,
and they are spending all their energy on attacking the intransigence of
the British for not allowing the talks to go ahead. The women’s agenda is
being left outside.’8
Another Clar na mBan member, Grainne, speaking nearly a year after the start of
the ceasefires, expressed disquiet at the way events were developing:
‘We are now feeling helpless. I have become more critical of Sinn Fein since
the ceasefires. The allies they are working with are conservatives like John
Bruton, John Hume, and the American Government. This is not going to
develop a progressive agenda. I can see horrible vistas ahead.’9
She was critical of the British Government for delaying all-party talks, and for
its limited response on human rights issues. This point was echoed by Sheila, a
member of a peace group, who gave vent to her frustration in angry tones:
‘People are cynical about the British Government. Would English people
have put up such an effort to get Lee Clegg out of jail if he wasn’t English?
British justice—there’s no such thing. The whole situation stinks. One year
on from the ceasefires, and we have not moved on at all.’10
Marie was also disappointed with the response of people in the South to the
possibilities opened up by the ceasefires. The debate in Southern Ireland around
the peace process has been limited and narrow. The ceasefires allowed the
development of more cross-border links between women’s groups, but this has
not led to a wider debate about the politics of the peace process, which might
have influenced the discussion in the North:
‘Southern feminists have not taken up the opportunity to fight for a new
Ireland. They should be arguing the need for a new type of Ireland.’11
Southern feminists, like those in the North, tend to be caught in the politics of
‘avoidance’. Before the ceasefires, many people in the South were reluctant to

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 WOMEN AND THE ‘PEACE PROCESS’

get involved in discussing the situation in the North. The ceasefires made it less
dangerous, but this has not led to any wider reevaluation of the possibilities for
transforming Irish society.
The response of Protestant women to the ceasefires was initially more
uncertain. For the community as a whole, the years of the Troubles have created
a sense of loss and alienation. For the majority, their British identity is extremely
important, but they feel that Britain has let them down. Tracey Gould is active
in the Shankill Women’s Centre and is sympathetic to the fringe loyalist party,
the Progressive Unionist Party (PUP). She was invited to speak at a meeting
organised by women’s groups in England:
‘The meeting was about the changing relations between Britain and Ireland.
The English women there talked about us from the North as if we were
Irish. I was very upset by this. I felt my Britishness was being denied.
Ireland North and South are two different countries.’12
For Tracey, her British identity is more important than a Northern Irish identity
Many Protestants expressed ambivalence about the future. On the one hand,
they are determined to hang on to their Britishness, but on the other there is
resignation in the face of what many see as the inevitability of a united Ireland.
Joan told me:
‘Protestants feel that there will be a United Ireland, that Britain will pull
out. That sentence in the Downing Street Declaration, that Britain has no
strategic interest in Northern Ireland. When I read that I realised that
Britain will pull out eventually.’13
Julie, another feminist who joined the PUP, argued that women’s interests are
best served by maintaining the British connection:
‘I hope a settlement will maintain the link with Britain. Economically that
is more viable. Women’s needs would be much better served if we are
linked to Britain than if we are tied to Southern Ireland. If there is some
kind of harmonisation, women’s issues are likely to lose out—it is always
easier to hand things away. I think we would lose the possibility of winning
on abortion.’14
While seeing ‘progressive unionism’ as the best way of securing progress for
women, she too expressed some uncertainty about the future constitutional
position:
‘I have no problem with saying I am Irish, but my identity’ is not with
Irish culture. But I would be happy to join with the South if people want
to sign up to it. If that’s the way it goes, I’ll go along with it.’
Loyalist women, like nationalists, fear the danger of male control over the
negotiations. Sandra, another feminist sympathetic to the PUP, expressed her
fears:

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 WOMEN DIVIDED

‘I am worried that we were at war on the say so of paramilitaries, and the

peace is also at their say so. This is a very threatening situation, and shows
how much women will have to fight for the future.’15
She pointed to the exclusion of women prisoners in the negotiations:
‘The male prisoners have been consulted, but the women have not been
asked. No one has been up to the women’s prison to ask them what they
think. Women prisoners are not given the same respect. They are mainly
in there for supporting men.’
Joan also expressed doubts about the peace process:
‘Nothing has changed. There has not been a proper debate about the
proposals, and both communities are relying on their own propagandists.
Women need to be consulted before men say no to everything. I agreed
with Bernadette McAliskey when she said if men are doing the peace
making it won’t last.’16
Joan expressed other worries about women’s position as the peace process developed:
‘Men have always praised women’s role in the community, but are we
going to be ousted when the men come out of jail? A lot of men have now
become active in community groups, and women are enabling men to
become community leaders.’
There is no equivalent of Clar na mBan in the Protestant community, and a less
confident assertion of future agendas. The Protestant Women’s Group which
has been meeting to explore alternative identities for Protestant women has
remained small, and is a discussion group rather than a campaigning one. The
group includes women with a range of views, from those who are committed
loyalists, to those who have rejected Unionism and want to develop a role for
Protestant women within an all-Ireland perspective. The political realities make
it extremely difficult to construct any common Protestant feminist agenda. Sarah
expressed frustration with the limited agenda:
‘I would like the group to take a more activist role in the community, to
attack fundamentalism more energetically. But the group is more of a
discussion group.’17
As both Protestant and Catholic feminists have pointed out, unionism has seen
feminism as alien and viewed it with suspicion. The ties of unionism to the
ascendancy have traditionally placed it on the side of the status quo. There have
been attempts to find more progressive forms of unionism—in civic unionism,
and in socialist or social democratic versions as well as feminist—but the Union
has been inescapably linked to exclusion and inequality. For many feminists, the
contradictions have been resolvable only through a renunciation of unionism,
or through ‘avoidance’ of broader political questions.

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Many Protestants have lost their trust in the traditional leaders of Unionism,
and are consciously learning from the experience of Catholics in organising
around community politics. The ceasefires opened up the space for more
progressive politics, but the long delay in moving the peace process forward led
to a vacuum, and increasing cynicism. As Marie from Clar na mBan put it:
‘There was initial enthusiasm about discussing change, but now the focus
is on getting a share of the money that is going around.’18
The resumption of violence has brought a hardening of sectarian attitudes.
Even during the ceasefires, ‘punishment shootings’ were continuing. Some
women reported an increase in violence, particularly against women. As Joan
explained:
‘There has been no demilitarisation and these men have their own arms.
They have been encouraged to feel violent, to hate the enemy, and now
there is no outlet for violence.’19
The summer of 1996, when conflict broke out over the route of Orange parades,
brought a revival of sectarianism which led to the murder of a Catholic taxi
driver, and the burning down of churches. The violent conflict over the Derry
parade confirmed each community’s worst fears about the RUC. The police
initially banned the march from going through a Catholic area. There was uproar
from unionists at this betrayal, and in response to threats of violence, the chief
constable backed down. The Catholics who had blocked the road to prevent the
Orange parade were forcibly removed. The sight of nationalist demonstrators
being batonned by the RUC was reminiscent of the scenes of twenty-five years
earlier at the start of the civil rights movement.
Attempts to build a common agenda in which women can bury their
differences may bring limited gains. The hastily formed women’s coalition won
nearly 2 per cent of the total vote in the election to the Northern Ireland Forum,
and two seats. Support for the coalition has, however, not been universal among
feminists. As one Clar na mBan activist put it, ‘they do not speak for me’. Many
fear that the unity of the group can only be maintained so long as the peace
process remains stalled. If serious progress were made in discussing future
constitutional arrangements, differences would inevitably surface. Sarah of the
Protestant Women’s Group said:
‘I distrust the calls for more women to be involved. Is a women’s agenda
enough, separate from the discussion of “politics”?’20
For nationalist women, the key question remains the integration of women’s
issues with the constitutional debate. Significantly the vote for the Women’s
Coalition was considerably lower in the Sinn Fein stronghold of West Belfast.
This may have been due partly to the fact that Sinn Fein put up a higher proportion
of women than any other party, and that two were elected in West Belfast. Many
women believe that maintaining unity around ‘women’s issues’ must not be at

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the expense of ignoring injustice and inequality. As Clare Hackett of Clar na

mBan put it:
‘In order to develop a women’s agenda we need to grasp the nettle of
taking a position on the national question.’21
The women’s centres, and the many groups established which campaign around
women’s issues and provide mutual support for women, have made a real
difference to women’s lives, and are starting to have some influence on policy at
local level. The development of cross-community links has allowed some valuable
work to be done, but formal politics in Northern Ireland remains dominated by
men. The absence of women’s voices and women’s concerns was particularly
marked in negotiations and debates around the ‘peace process’.
Women have a real interest in the outcome of any negotiations on the
constitutional issues, and in the institutions which are developed from them.
The structures of Northern Ireland were built on the denial of rights to Catholics.
This exclusion, by constructing a politics around community loyalties, helped
sustain the patriarchal structures which have oppressed all women. The
programme put forward by groups such as the Women’s Coalition challenges
the traditional values in Northern Ireland society. But ironically, unless women
are involved with politics as it is traditionally defined in Northern Ireland, their
influence is likely to remain marginal. If women are to reconstruct the meaning
of politics in Northern Ireland, they face the even more difficult task of engaging
with the issues which divide them.

CONCLUSION
The fate of the peace process has exposed starkly the irreconcilability of the two
communities in Northern Ireland. The explosion of sectarian passions in the
summer of 1996, which led to widespread violence and destruction, was
depressing evidence of the deep-rootedness of the divisions. The state was
constructed on the basis of maintaining majority rule for one section of the
population, and that aim has defined the character of the state ever since. Sectarian
divisions are built into the structures and identity of Northern Ireland. Politics
has remained polarised around community loyalties, placing severe limitations
on the development of class-based or gender-based loyalties.
The early 1990s witnessed a tremendous upsurge of energy and creativity by
women in Northern Ireland. The range of groups and organisations established
included enormous numbers of women, many of whom became involved for
the first time with ‘women’s issues’. The ceasefires provided an impetus for this
movement, opening up the possibilities of fundamental change in Northern
Ireland. In developing cross-community work, some women were starting to
move from the politics of ‘avoidance’ to tentative discussion of ‘difference’.
The opening up in Northern Ireland society, particularly among women,
was in marked contrast to the attitude of the British Government. The narrow

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and grudging response to the ceasefires, and the painfully slow progress towards
talks, gradually turned that optimism to frustration and despair. Northern Ireland
remains marginal to British political life, a ‘problem’ to be contained. There was
no public acknowledgement from the British Government of its own responsibility
for the conflict. While republicans and loyalists are expected to denounce violence,
Britain has never apologised even for some of its most destructive acts, such as
Bloody Sunday, let alone taken responsibility for sustaining the undemocratic
and repressive structures of Northern Ireland.
Britain’s Irish policy has never been openly debated in Britain, where
mainstream politicians maintain a rigid consensus on constitutional and security
issues. This ignorance and indifference to Ireland extends into large sections of
the left and feminist movements in Britain. The opportunities opened up by the
peace process for a serious examination of Britain’s policy were not seized. The
voices of those who did attempt to challenge the narrow agenda imposed by the
government have remained marginal in the chorus of congratulation to the
government.
Feminists on both sides of the water have a great deal to learn from each
other. While British political life has become more narrowly focused around
restricted electoral politics, women in Northern Ireland have shown the ability
to involve their communities in practical and effective campaigning for women’s
rights. Feminists in Britain have a role to play in helping to ensure that women’s
concerns are placed at the centre of future discussions of Northern Ireland. This
can only be done if they confront the politics of Britain’s involvement in Ireland,
and work to redefine the relations between Britain and Ireland on the basis of
equality.

203
 NOTES

1 INTRODUCTION
1 The labels ‘Protestant’ and ‘Catholic’ in Northern Ireland are not mainly about
religious difference. They mark ethnic and political differences, and people who
have no religious belief may describe themselves as ‘from the Catholic/Protestant
community’. Although there are a large number of exceptions, the majority of
Protestants tend to associate themselves with some form of unionist politics, and
Catholics with nationalism.
2 The war of independence was also referred to as ‘the Troubles’ (see J.G.Farrell’s
novel of the same name).
3 A reference to the statement by Northern Ireland’s first Prime Minister, Lord Craigavon,
that ‘all I boast is a Protestant parliament and a Protestant state’ (see Chapter 2).
4 The Conservative Party stood for the first time in the general election of 1992, and won
about 6 per cent of the vote. The Labour Party does not exist in Northern Ireland.
5 This point was made by Joan, a Protestant feminist active in a women’s centre in
her local area.
6 See e.g. a report on Community Development in Protestant areas (CRC 1991).
7 There are a small number of Irish-medium schools, attended almost exclusively by
Catholics. For many nationalists the Irish language is a part of their Irish identity.
The speaking of Irish as a first language has however virtually died out in Northern
Ireland, and English is the common language for almost all purposes.
8 The Fair Employment Commission, formerly the Fair Employment Agency, is the
official body responsible for promoting equality of opportunity in relation to religion
in the workplace.
9 Interview with Jane, July 1995.
10 Martin 1982 provides a useful summary of these debates. Marx and Engels’ writings
on Ireland are collected in a single volume, Marx and Engels 1971. See also Bew et
al. 1979; Nairn 1981; O’Dowd et al. 1981; Bew and Patterson 1985; Beresford Ellis
1985; Munck 1986.
11 The meanings to be attached to these developments have been hotly debated by
feminists, both from Europe and from within the Muslim tradition. See e.g. Anthias
and Yuval Davis 1989; Kofman and Sales 1992; Al Saadwi 1995.

2 THE RISE AND FALL OF STORMONT

1 The Twenty-Six Counties declared itself a Republic in 1949, leaving the
Commonwealth. Republicans prefer the original name ‘Free State’, or ‘the 26

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 NOTE S

Counties’ arguing that the term ‘Republic’ implies that the question of Irish unity is
no longer relevant.
2 See e.g. Bew, Hazelkorn and Patterson 1989; History Workshop 1991; Foster 1995.
3 This issue has been discussed in more recent works: e.g. Ward 1983; Owens 1984;
Curtis 1994;Ryan 1996.
4 Hence the expression ‘beyond the pale’.
5 There has been controversy about the nature of the pre-colonial land system. Some
nationalists believe that a communal system prevailed, while others argue that a
more hierarchical structure, similar to feudalism existed (see e.g. Beresford Ellis
1985; de Paor 1986).
6 This battle has become part of Protestant mythology, celebrated every year in the
Orange parades. As a Protestant victory it was more ambiguous. At that time, the
Pope was an ally of Protestant England, and he said a special mass to give thanks
for the rout of the Catholic king by Protestant forces.
7 Ulster consisted of nine counties: Antrim, Armagh, Down, Derry, Fermanagh,
Tyrone. Cavan, Donegal and Monaghan. The first six now make up Northern Ireland
(the ‘Six Counties’); the last three are part of the Irish Republic (the ‘Twenty-Six
Counties’).
8 In 1866, Harland and WolfF employed 225 Catholics out of 3,000 workers (7.5 per
cent; the proportion was still only 7.6 per cent in 1911), while Catholics were 24 per
cent of Belfast’s population (Farrell 1980:16). The sectarian riots which accompanied
partition forced most Catholics out of the yards altogether. In 1994, there were 74
Catholics working at the company, 5.2 per cent of the total (Fair Employment
Commission, Summary of Monitoring Returns for 1994).
9 The name of the city is contentious, with Protestants/Unionists preferring the name
Londonderry. The official name was changed when nationalists took control of the
City Council following the achievement of universal suffrage. It is however still
contested. A meeting in the City Centre in 1994 to discuss it was ‘the first time a
divisive issue had been addressed in an open public meeting’ in the city (Templegrove
Action Research Quarterly Report 1995).
10 Malthus argued that since population would always grow at a faster rate than
agricultural output, ‘positive checks’ such as famine would be necessary to bring
population into equilibrium. Marx attacked the ‘political economists’ for their
attachment to the notion of absolute surplus population, since it ignored the relations
of production in agriculture (Capital, vol 3, Ch 13).
11 The Irish Volunteers were founded in 1913 to defend Home Rule, in response to
the formation of the Ulster Volunteer Force (Beresford Ellis 1985:206).
12 The suffragette group founded in Britain by Emmeline Pankhurst.
13 The name was a disparaging reference to their clothing, a mixture of Army uniform
and civilian dress.
14 The EEC became the European Community (EC), and in 1992, the European
Union (EU).
15 The government proposal to allow abortion in very limited circumstances was
opposed both by campaigners for women’s rights and anti-abortionists, and was
defeated. But voters supported the rights of women to receive information about
abortion, and to travel abroad for abortions, both of which represented progress on
the existing formal position.
16 This is how the contents of Bew et al. (1989) are described on the cover.
17 The word ‘gerrymandering’ was first coined in the nineteenth century when
Governor Gerry of Massachusetts drew up boundaries in order to favour his party.
The resulting map of the state resembled a salamander (hence Gerry-mander). The
practice has been deeply entrenched in Northern Ireland. Indeed it is frequently

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 NOTE S

claimed that the border itself was a gerrymander since it was drawn up in such a
way as to create a permanent Unionist majority.
18 The marriage bars in teaching and the civil service were lifted in the 1970s. In
Britain, the marriage bars in teaching were operated by individual local authorities,
and were abandoned in the early 1940s. The bar on married women in permanent
posts in the civil service was lifted in 1946. In the Irish Republic, the marriage bar
for women in the civil service was lifted only in 1973.
19 Women have represented a tiny, but growing proportion of MPs in every Westminster
parliament since 1918. In 1945, in the first general election after the Second World
War, their numbers rose to just 3.8 per cent of MPs. In the general election of 1992.
women were 9.2 per cent of MPs elected, a lower proportion than in most European
countries. In 1994, there were sixty-two women MPs, the majority of them from the
Labour Party (figures from the Labour Party and the 300 Group).
20 Lilian Murphy, former mill worker, speaking at Alice Stopford Green conference,
on Women in Irish History. 28 March 1992. In fact similar legislation, the Factories
Acts, applied in Northern Ireland as in Britain. The hours and conditions in the
Lancashire cotton mills at the time were similar, although the enforcement of
regulation may have been stronger in Britain. Some Lancashire mills had welfare
workers in the 1930s (information supplied by former welfare worker in Lancashire).
21 Abortion is still governed by nineteenth-century laws which outlaw it except when
the woman’s life is in danger (NIALRA 1992:40). Following a ruling by the
European Court in 1981, the legislation on homosexuality was brought into line
with British law.
22 Similar changes were occurring in the British labour market, although the decline in
manufacturing was not so precipitous. The percentage of employees in manufacturing
in the United Kingdom as a whole fell from 41.8 per cent to 38.3 per cent between
1952 and 1971, while the proportion employed in services increased from 34.2 per
cent to 43.9 per cent. The number of female employees in Britain increased by 26
per cent between 1959 and 1979. while male employment rose slightly by 2.9 per
cent (Annual Abstract of Statistics).
23 Quangos (Quasi Autonomous Non Governmental Agencies) are non-elected bodies
which operate independently of government, although their members are appointed,
directly or indirectly, by ministers, and they are funded by government. The number
of quangos increased significantly in Britain and Northern Ireland under the Thatcher
administration, as elected local authorities were stripped of many of their powers.
24 This demand was in fact for universal suffrage.
25 This complaint was made by Mrs Gildernew, mother of the woman who initiated
the protest, speaking at Alice Stopford Green conference on Irish women’s history,
28 March 1992. In Farrell’s appendix describing key individuals in Northern Ireland,
only-three of seventy-six are women.
26 She now prefers to be known by her married name, Bernadette McAliskey.

3 EXPLAINI NG THE CONFLICT

1 The Anglo-Irish Agreement was signed in 1985 between the Conservative
Government of Margaret Thatcher and the Irish Government. Although it reiterated
the constitutional status of Northern Ireland within the United Kingdom, it
established a Council of Ireland, which institutionalised the involvement of the Irish
Government in discussions about aspects of Northern Ireland policy, such as security,
the administration of justice and cross-border trade (see e.g. O’Leary 1987). It was
bitterly opposed by Unionists who saw the Irish dimension as a betrayal. The
Downing Street Declaration was an agreed statement between the British and Irish

206
 NOTE S

Governments published in 1993, in which the British Government recognised for

the first time since partition the possibility of a change in the constitutional position
of Northern Ireland. The Declaration announced that the British Government has
‘no selfish strategic or economic interest in Northern Ireland’ and accepted that the
outcome of the peace process might ‘take the form of agreed structures for the
island as a whole, including a united Ireland’.
2 For accounts of the development of Protestant paramilitary organisations, see Dillon
1990; Bruce 1992; McAuley 1994.
3 Interview with Sarah, November 1995.
4 Interview with Progressive Unionist Party activist, 1995.
5 Billy Hutchinson, speaking at a seminar on ‘Protestant identities in Ireland,’ Queen’s
University, Belfast, February 1995.
6 See note 5.
7 A major economics text produced by the economics department at Queen’s
University (Harris 1990) runs to several hundred pages. Its only reference to religious
inequality comes in two pages in an appendix to one chapter.
8 See e.g. the report of the Compton Commission 1969.
9 Sinn Fein president Gerry Adams, interviewed on BBC television on 26 September
1996, about the publication of his autobiography, stated that his vision of the Irish
nation and the Irish people included the Protestant population of the North.
10 Opinion-poll evidence suggests that the campaign has been successful in this objective,
since a majority of British voters has consistently opted for British withdrawal from
Northern Ireland.
11 A renewed debate on the labour aristocracy in the British context was initiated by
Eric Hobsbawm’s article on ‘The Labour Aristocracy in Nineteenth Century Britain’
published in his book, Labouring Men (1964). See also Foster 1974; Gupta 1975;
Moorhouse 1978; Gray 1981.
12 Sectarian relations have been strong in some parts of Scotland (particularly Glasgow)
and England (particularly Liverpool) which have large populations with connections
with Northern Ireland. Sectarianism has been influential in local politics, and
particularly in relation to local football teams, but does not have the significance it
does in Northern Ireland.
13 Interview with Sarah. November 1995.
14 Interview with Maeve, member of Clar na mBan, November 1995.
15 Interview with Jane, July 1995.
16 The Hibernians are a Catholic grouping, similar to the Masonic Lodges.
17 Member of the European Parliament.
18 This term was used by participants in the gender and Protestant session at the
seminar on Protestant identities. Queen’s University, Belfast, February 1995.
19 Interview with Hazel Gordon, July 1995.
20 From the report of a discussion of the peace process at a women’s centre in a Protestant
area.
21 Interview with women members of Sinn Fein, July 1995.
22 Interview with Joan. Protestant community worker, February 1995.
23 Interview with Mary, SDLP member, July 1995.

4 BRITISH POLICY UNDER DIRECT RULE

1 For details of the first five of these, see Elliott and Wilford 1987:295–303. The sixth
was the inter-party talks under Peter Brooke which broke down in November 1992.
2 John Hume, leader of the SDLP and Gerry Adams, President of Sinn Fein.

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 NOTE S

3 In the 1992 general election. Unionist parties received an average of 50.93 per cent
of the vote; nationalist parties (SDLP and Sinn Fein) an average of 31.62 per cent.
Between them, these parties accounted for 82.5 per cent of the total vote. Of the
rest, the majority (9.56 per cent) went to the middle of the road ‘non-sectarian’
Alliance Party. But the party gained its highest votes in strongly Protestant
constituencies, in which the SDLP did not put up candidates (East Belfast 29.76 per
cent; Antrim East 23.27 per cent; Strangford 16.94 per cent). The next largest share
(6.1 per cent) went to the Conservative Party which also won its highest votes in
constituencies without nationalist candidates. It seems plausible that Catholics in
these constituencies would have voted for a ‘non-sectarian’ candidate rather than a
Unionist party.
4 The party retains its formal support for Irish unity, and to contest Northern Ireland
elections would give tacit support to the Union. A small group within the party
campaigns for Labour to campaign in Northern Ireland elections. This campaign
was initially promoted by the Campaign for Labour Party Representation, whose
members were associated with the defunct British and Irish Communist Organisation.
5 Interview with SDLP spokesperson, July 1995.
6 The New Ireland Forum was established by the main political parties in the South,
on the initiative of the SDLP, in 1983. The Forum produced a report in 1984 detailing
a number of alternative constitutional proposals for Irish unity.
7 From the minority report of a delegation organised by the Greater London
Association of Trades Councils to the Belfast Trades Council in 1975 (Knowles et al.
1976).
8 Frank Kitson is author of a book on counter-insurgency, Low Intensity Operations.
9 Reported in the Guardian, April 1996.
10 John Stalker, then Deputy Chief Constable of the Manchester Police, was removed
from the inquiry after allegations of corruption—since proved unfounded. In a book
describing the events, Stalker (1988), he described how ‘dirty tricks’ were used to
remove him to prevent him revealing the truth about the shoot to kill incidents.
11 Several of the former prisoners have written books about their trial and
imprisonment. See e.g. J.Ward (1993), Conlon 1991. See also Kee 1986; Mullin
1986; Bennett 1993.
12 Gerry Kelly, a member of the republican team which held negotiations with British
officials before the ceasefire, claimed on British television that they had been promised
a swift move to all-party talks.
13 No similar preconditions were imposed before talks could begin with e.g. the
Palestinian Liberation Organisation, or the African National Congress.
14 Reported in the Guardian, 5 September 1996.
15 Quoted by M.Tomlinson, speaking at a conference entitled ‘Is West Belfast Working?’
organised by West Belfast Economic Forum, June 1990.
16 Dr G.Quigley, ‘Ireland, an island economy’, speech to annual conference of
Confederation of Irish Industry, Dublin, 11 February 1992.
17 A conference to launch a campaign for the extension of the Race Relations Act to
Northern Ireland was organised in 1991 by the Committee on the Administration
of Justice (CAJ) and the Northern Ireland Council for Civil Liberties (see CAJ
Bulletin. Vol 6, No 11, December 1991, p.1). The government has announced plans
to introduce the Act into Northern Ireland.
18 The SACHR Report lists twelve reforming measures between 1969 and 1977, the
majority enacted before Direct Rule (SACHR 1987:9–11).
19 Indirect discrimination exists where rules apply equally to both groups (in this case
both religious communities) in a purely formal sense, but where Catholics are treated
less favourably in the practical impact of the rules (see Lester 1990:13).

208
 NOTE S

20 After the longest sex discrimination case in Britain against the police service ended
in a settlement which involved her dropping her charges of discrimination, Alison
Halford said:
‘Although I have not achieved my goal of becoming chief constable…I believe
that no woman will ever again suffer as much as I have through rank
discrimination in the police force. The way has been eased to allow other
women of courage and commitment to follow me up the greasy pole of
promotion.’
(quoted in the Guardian, July 23 1992)
21 The other main sponsors of the MacBride Principles were Inez McCormack (Regional
Officer of NUPE); John Robb (a surgeon from a Protestant background who sat in
the Irish Republic’s Senate); and Father Brian Brady (a Catholic priest active on
human rights issues) (see McCormack and O’Hara 1990).
22 Ford was found guilty of discrimination against a Catholic man in a Fair Employment
Tribunal in June 1996. The Tribunal found that his appointment had been blocked on
the orders of a senior executive, and he was awarded £40,000 (Irish News, 5 June 1996).
23 As part of this review, SACHR commissioned a number of reports on aspects of
employment equality. These are published in three volumes: Magill and Rose (1996);
McLaughlin and Quirk (1996); McVey and Hutson (1996).
24 Affirmative action involves measures to encourage underrepresented groups to apply
for employment or promotion. These include targeted training programmes, and
advertising in papers likely to be read by such groups.
25 Obair Briefing Paper No. 3, The 1989 Fair Employment Act, 1990:2.
26 It is widely believed that all vacancies have to be advertised, a misapprehension
which some equal opportunities officers are happy to allow to continue (interview
with equal opportunities manager for a multinational company).
27 Interview with Donald Graham, former staff member of the FEA, September 1992.
28 A participant in a conference in Belfast, under the tide ‘Is West Belfast Working?’
reported that he received no response to job applications when using his West Belfast
address, but received replies when writing from outside (Conference Report 1990:59).
29 Reported in the Irish News, 27 May 1996.
30 The European Community (EC) became the European Union (EU) in January 1994
with the implementation of the Maastricht Agreement. The title EU is used throughout,
whether referring to periods before or after the establishment of the EU.
31 Interview with information officer, EOCNI, March 1992.
32 The case of Alison Halford, who claimed discrimination against the Manchester
Police Authority, used up half its annual legal budget of £600,000, which meant
that pressure to settle the case on unfavourable terms became overwhelming.
33 For a more detailed discussion of the limits of existing law see e.g. Gregory 1987;
Fredman 1992; Meehan 1995.
34 Interview with Liam, Personnel Manager of a large multinational company, April
1992.
35 Interview with Sinead, equal opportunities officer of a public sector organisation,
July-1995.
36 Telephone interview with Billy Robinson, coordinator of Counteract, 3 October
1996.

5 SOCIAL POLICY AND SOCIAL DIVISIONS

1 This phrase was used by officers of the Housing Executive to describe the official
approach to housing allocation in the 1970s and 1980s.

209
 NOTE S

2 Interview with the late Joyce McCartan, Lower Ormeau Drop In Women’s Centre,
February 1995. Joyce died in early 1996. Her book, published in 1994, was aptly
titled A Battler All My Life.
3 Interview with Mary Ferris, UNISON executive member, July 1995.
4 Interview with Bernie Bradley, Sinn Fein member of Derry City Council, November
1995.
5 Under trust status, hospitals and other ‘providers’ of health care became independent
of the ‘purchasers’, the local health authorities, and compete for contracts from
purchasers. Trusts remain non-profit making, but the change has introduced the
possibility of Trusts becoming bankrupt.
6 See e.g. Gaffikin and Morrissey 1990; Garcia Ramon and Monk 1996; Abbott and
Wallace 1992; Levitas 1986; Mishra 1984.
7 Interview with Eileen Bell July 1995.
8 Interview with May Blood, February 1995.
9 Information supplied by officer of the Northern Ireland Housing Executive,
November 1995.
10 Information supplied by research officer of the Northern Ireland Housing Executive,
March 1996.
11 Interview with Shirley, community worker from the Shankill, February 1995.
12 Ibid.
13 Letter from C.Brett, Chief Executive of the Northern Ireland Housing Executive to
the Guardian, 6 April 1982 (quoted in Dawson 1984:48).
14 Interview with Jennifer, Protestant woman working in a cross-community project,
November 1995.
15 Interview with Elinor, November 1995.
16 Interview with May Blood, February 1995.
17 Interview with Siobhan. advice worker, women’s centre, February 1995.
18 Interview with community worker, Shankill Road, February 1995.
19 Interview with Anne, Catholic social worker, November 1995.
20 Interview with Maureen, July 1995.
21 Interview August 1995. Trevor is now working in the Health Service in London.
22 Northern Ireland is not alone in having religiously separate schools. Many schools
in Britain (Voluntary schools’) have a distinctly religious character, including Church
of England, Catholic and Jewish schools. Their funding arrangements are now similar
to that of ‘maintained schools’ in Northern Ireland. Other state schools—although
required to hold ‘largely Christian’ assemblies daily—in practice generally attempt
to develop a more multi-cultural ethos, particularly in the cities. The religious
differences do not have the same political implications as in Northern Ireland.
23 See e.g. Mahoney 1985. A considerable number of studies were conducted in the
1980s. This subject has, however, appeared less urgent to researchers in the 1990s
with the widespread recognition that girls’ achievement exceeds that of boys, in
both mixed-sex or single-sex schools.
24 Billy Hutchinson, speaking at a conference on ‘Protestant Identity’, Queen’s
University, Belfast, February 1995.
25 Schools can apply for grant maintained status (or ‘opt out’ of local authority control)
following a vote by parents, and are directly funded by central government.
26 The term ‘integration’ is used quite differently in Britain, where it refers to the
integration of children with special needs into mainstream education.
27 Information supplied by Northern Ireland Council for Integrated Education, March
1996.
28 Interview with Siobhan, Women’s Centre, February 1995.
29 Interview with May Blood, February 1995.

210
 NOTE S

30 The notion of ‘disloyalty’ to the community has been a problem for many women
from minority ethnic communities in Britain who seek refuge from domestic violence.
See e.g. the 1993–94 Annual Report of Newham Asian Women’s Project.
31 Interview with Pat, a community worker in East Belfast, February 1995.
32 Interview with Sinn Fein member, February 1995.
33 Interview with Joan, advice worker, February 1995.
34 Interview with Pat, February 1995.
35 Interview with staff of Falls Women’s Centre, February 1995.
36 Interview with Pat, February 1995.
37 Interview with May Blood, February 1995.
38 Interview with Eileen Bell, July 1995.
39 Interview with Frances, from NIALRA, July 1995.
40 Interview with member of Women’s Issues Committee, Ulster Unionist Party, July
1995.
41 Interview with Gerry Cosgrove, administrator, SDLP, July 1995.
42 Interview with Siobhan. Women’s Centre, February 1995.
43 Interview with Mary, administrative worker, July 1995.
44 Interview with Siobhan, Women’s Centre, February 1995.
45 Interview with Pat, community worker from East Belfast, February 1995.
46 Ibid.
47 This incident was described to me in February 1992 by an academic who was working
in the area.
48 Interview with Trevor, August 1995.
49 Interview with Frances, NIALRA, July 1995.
50 Ibid.
51 Interview with member of Women’s Council, Ulster Unionist Party, July 1995.
52 Interview with Gerry Cosgrove, SDLP, July 1995.
53 Interview with Eileen Bell, July 1995.
54 Interview with Mary Ferris, July 1995.
55 Interview with Ann Hope, Equality Officer for the Irish Congress of Trades Unions.
July 1995.
56 Interview with Frances, NIALRA, July 1995.
57 Interview with staff from a women’s centre in a Catholic area, February 1995.
58 Interview with Judith, Downtown Women’s Centre, March 1996.
59 Telephone conversation with Mo Mowlam’s researcher, March 1996.

6 EMPLOYMENT INEQUALITY IN THE 1990s

1 Interview with Robert Cooper. Chair of Fair Employment Commission, February
1992.
2 Response to the religious question is voluntary: there was a 7.3 per cent refusal rate
in 1991, compared to 18.5 per cent in 1981 and 9.4 per cent in 1971. The Census
does not use the category Protestant: the categories are ‘Roman Catholic’; the three
main Protestant denominations (‘Presbyterian’, ‘Church of Ireland’, ‘Methodist’);
‘Other Denominations’; and ‘Not Stated’. The 1991 Census included a new category,
‘None’, in which 3.8 per cent of the population placed themselves.
The percentage of those who stated their religion as Catholic underestimates the
proportion of people ‘from the Catholic community’—since some define themselves
as ‘Not Stated’ or ‘None’. In the analysis below, the percentage of Catholics and
Protestants will normally be calculated as a percentage of people who stated a religion
(i.e. excluding ‘Not Stated’ and ‘None’). This makes the implicit assumption that the
religion of non-responders is distributed in proportion to their numbers in the

211
 NOTE S

population. It is generally believed that non-respondents were more likely to be

Catholics (Compton and Power 1986). An estimated 2 per cent non-enumeration in
the 1981 Census was also thought to be primarily in Catholic areas (Osborne and
Cormack 1987:1). ‘Other Denominations’ will be counted as Protestant. The
overwhelming majority of this group are smaller Protestant sects, but it also includes
non-Christian religions. The latter have been growing in recent years, but total numbers
still represent only 0.17 per cent of the population. The slight overestimation of
Protestant numbers here balances the underestimate of Catholics elsewhere.
3 The LFS gives 95 per cent confidence intervals of between 1.5 per cent and 2.8 per
cent for economic activity; slightly lower numbers for unemployment: and between
4.1 per cent and 6.4 per cent for occupational category. LFS figures for the latter are
therefore too unreliable, and information on occupation is taken from the Census.
4 Academic qualifications are classified in the Census into seven levels:
1. University degree level or higher;
2. BTEC (higher), BEC (higher), TEC, HNC, HND (post-secondary school
qualifications, at lower level than degrees);
3. GCE ‘A’ Level (the final examination taken from the ‘sixth form’ of secondary
school, at age 18);
4. BTEC (National), BEC (National), ONC, OND (an alternative, more vocational,
examination to A Levels);
5. GCSE grades A–C, GCE ‘O’ Level, CSE grade 1, BTEC (General), BEG
(General) (examinations taken at the end of compulsory schooling, at age 16);
6. CSE (other than grade 1) (i.e. not equivalent to a pass in level 5);
7. No formal qualifications.
5 Seminar paper, ‘The Growth of Part time Employment’, by J.Trewsdale, Department
of Economics, Queen’s University, Belfast, 20 March 1992.
6 See e.g. Amos and Parmar 1984. See also the self-criticism by Barren and Mclntosh
(1985) in Feminist Review: editorial statement in Critical Social Policy (1987) no 19.
7 Interview with Ann Hope, equalities officer, ICTU, July 1995.
8 Interview with COHSE branch official, March 1992.
9 Interview, March 1992. As a result of Compulsory Competitive Tendering, many
of the relative privileges of the porters’ employment have now been eroded.
10 Interview with Ann Hope, equalities officer, ICTU, July 1995.
11 Interview with Mary Ferris, domestic worker and UNISON national executive
member, July 1995.
12 See e.g. the cases quoted in Rolston and Tomlinson 1988:65–7.
13 Reported in the Guardian 4 September 1996.
14 The other story highlighted in this video is of a whispering campaign against a male
Protestant worker in a mainly Catholic factory.
15 This remark was reported to me in an interview with Robert Cooper, Chair of Fair
Employment Commission, April 1992.
16 Interview with Rosaleen Davidson, March 1992.
17 Interview with Joanne Vance, Downtown Women’s Centre, March 1996.
18 Interview with equal opportunities manager, Shorts, April 1992.
19 Reported in the Irish News 7 June 1996.
20 Interview with Maeve. July 1995.
21 Interview with Rosaleen Davidson, March 1992.
22 Interview with COHSE branch official, Royal Victoria Hospital, March 1992.
23 Ibid.
24 Interview with COHSE regional officer, March 1992.
25 Interview with Inez McCormack, Regional Officer of NUPE. February 1992.
26 Ibid.

212
 NOTE S

7 ENGENDERI NG CHANGE
1 Interview with the administrative officer of a women’s centre, February 1995.
2 Interview with Joyce McCartan. Lower Ormeau Women’s Drop In Centre,
February 1995.
3 See literature on women and political theory: e.g. Pateman 1983, 1988; Barrett and
Phillips 1992; Phillips 1992.
4 Interview with Maureen. July 1995.
5 Information supplied by Northern Ireland Association of Councils, February 1995.
6 Ulster Unionist Party press release, 19 March 1992.
7 Maureen recalls that, during a trade union lobby in the early 1990s in support of
childcare provision, Martin Smyth told her that women should not be out at work if
they had children of school age.
8 Interview with member of Women’s Issues Committee, Ulster Unionist Party,
July 1995.
9 Telephone interview with Ian Paisley Jnr, July 1995.
10 Interview with Gerry Cosgrove, secretary of SDLP women’s committee, July 1995.
11 Interview with cllr Eileen Bell, Alliance Party, July 1995.
12 Interview with members of Belfast Sinn Fein, February 1995.
13 Interview with Grainne, Clar na mBan member, July 1995.
14 At the time of writing, September 1996.
15 Interview with Irene Murphy, former member of PUP executive, November 1995.
16 Interview with Bernie Bradley, Sinn Fein councillor, Derry, November 1995.
17 Interview with member of Women’s Issues Committee, Ulster Unionist Party,
July 1995.
18 Interview with Bernie Bradley, Sinn Fein councillor, Derry, November 1995.
19 Interview with Mary, SDLP member, July 1995.
20 Interview with Ann Hope, equalities officer, Irish Congress of Trades Unions,
July 1995.
21 Interview with Rosaleen Davidson, March 1992.
22 Interview with NUPE shop steward, March 1992.
23 Telephone interview with Billy Robinson of Counteract, 2 October 1996.
24 Interview with Inez McCormack, NUPE Regional Officer, February 1992.
25 Interview with Ann Hope, equalities officer, Irish Congress of Trades Unions,
July 1995.
26 NUPE press release, 5 June 1986.
27 Ibid.
28 Interview with Judith, February 1995.
29 Interview with Julie, November 1995.
30 Interview with Maeve, November 1995.
31 Interview with May Blood, February 1995.
32 Interview with Joyce McCartan, February 1995.
33 Interview with Jane, July 1995.
34 Ibid.
35 Interview with Eileen Bell, July 1995.
36 See e.g. R.Taillon et al. (1992) ‘Who Cares? Childcare and Women’s Lives in the
Shankill Today’, Report for the Greater Shankill Development Agency (University
of Ulster); J.Vance (1994) ‘In the Shadow of Goliath: an Assessment of Women’s
Needs in Inner East Belfast’ (East Belfast Women’s Research Project).
37 Interview with May Blood. February 1995.
38 Interview with Susan, administrator of a women’s centre in a Protestant area,
February 1995.
39 Interview with Kathleen Feenan, Women’s Information Day, February 1995.

213
 NOTE S

40 Interview with Jane, July 1995.

41 From the leaflet advertising the ‘Women into Politics Project’. The project is sponsored
by the European Commission, and the EOC and Community Relations Council in
Northern Ireland.
42 Interview with Joanne Vance, March 1996.
43 Interview with Judith. April 1996.
44 Interview with Julie, PUP member, July 1995.

8 WOMEN AND THE ‘PEACE PROCESS’

1 Reported in the Observer, 5 June 1996, p. 7.
2 Interview with Eileen Bell, July 1995.
3 Interview with Pat Campbell, ‘Women Together for Peace’, July 1995.
4 From the report of a discussion at a women’s centre in East Belfast.
5 Interview with Joyce McCartan, February 1995.
6 Interview with Hazel Gordon, July 1995.
7 Interview with Marie Quiery, Clar na mBan, November 1995.
8 Interview with Maeve, Clar na mBan, November 1995.
9 Interview with Grainne, Clar na mBan member, July 1995.
10 Interview with Sheila. ‘Women Together for Peace’.
11 Interview with Marie Quiery, Clar na mBan, November 1995.
12 Interview with Tracey Gould, community activist, February 1995.
13 Interview with Joan, Protestant community worker, February 1995.
14 Interview with Julie, PUP activist, July 1995.
15 Interview with Sandra, July 1995.
16 Interview with Joan, February 1995.
17 Interview with Sarah, Protestant Women’s Group.
18 Interview with Marie Quiery, Clar na mBan, November 1995.
19 Interview with Joan, February 1995.
20 Interview with Sarah, Protestant Women’s Group, November 1995.
21 Interview with Clare Hackett, Clar na mBan, July 1995.

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Simpson, J. (1983) ‘Economic development: cause or effect in the Northern Ireland
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Sinn Fein Women’s Department (1980) Policy Statement on Women’s Issues Dublin:
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——(1994) Women in Struggle Dublin: Sinn Fein.
Smith, A. (1995) ‘Education and the conflict in Northern Ireland’ in S.Dunn (ed.) Facets
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——(ed.) (1993) Irish Women’s Studies Reader Dublin: Attic Press.
Smyth, M. (1994) Social Work, Sectarianism and Anti-Discriminatory Social Work Practice in
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Speed, P.F. (1976) The Potato Famine and the Irish Emigrant London: Longman.
Stalker, J. (1988) Ireland, Shoot to Kill and the Stalker Affair Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Stewart, P. (1991) ‘The jerrybuilders: Bew, Gibbon and Patterson—the Protestant working
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Strauss, E. (1951) Irish Nationalism and British Democracy London: Methuen.
Sugden, J. and Baines, A. (1993) Sport, Sectarianism and Society in a Divided Ireland Leicester:
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Sweeney, P. (1991) ‘From veto to achievement’, opening address to conference on
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Taillon, R., McKiernan, J. and Davies, C. (1992) Who Cares? Childcare and Women’s Lives in
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227
 INDEX

abortion 26, 111, 131–4, 135; Catholic Bhavani, R. 159

campaigns against 121; compromise Birmingham Six 82
28; opposition to 5, 172, 190; politics Birrell, D. 176
199; sex education 129; Sinn Fein 175 birth rate, Catholics 48–9
Abraham, M.et al. 144, 146, 180 Blair, Tony 77
absentee landlords 14 ‘Bloody Sunday’ 44, 74, 79, 203
Ackroyd, C. et al. 60, 80 Bogside Defence Committee 43
Act of Union 16 Booth, H. 96, 99, 166
Adamson, I. 64 Borooah, V. 152
age, unemployment 140–1 Boserup, A. 39, 52
agriculture, Great Famine 19 Boyd, A. 78, 80
all-party talks, obstacles 75, 76, 83 Brah, A. 159
Amsden, A. 85, 152 Brannen, J. 161
Anderson, J. 112, 117 British domination, Irish Free State 26–7
Anglican Church 14 British Government: 1994 ceasefires 1,
Anglo-Irish Agreement (1985) 47, 74–5; 82–3; fear of Unionists 75; response
Thatcher 78, 82 to peace initiatives 82–3, 202–3
Anthias, F. 9, 61–2, 136 British identity, Unionism 47, 199
anti-colonialism, Catholicism 14 British policy: Direct Rule 74–107; lack
Anton, B. 16 of debate 203; security 79–82
army, counter-insurgency techniques 80 Brook Advisory Centre, Belfast 129
Aughey, A. 50 Browne, N. 28
authoritarianism, Irish Catholic Brozyna, A. 65
Church 20 Bruce, S. 7, 8, 64, 66; housing policy 108
Bruegel, I. 136
Barren, M. 153, 154, 155, 158 Butler, E. 27
Barry, J. 171
Barry, U. 104, 137 Campbell, R. et al. 161
battered wives 190 Canning, D. et al. 89, 90
Battle of the Boyne 14, 205 capitalism, industrial 16
Beattie, G. 122 careers, women 32
Beechey,V. 152, 155, 158 carers, women 124, 126–8, 135, 161–2
Belfast: divisions of 16; urban Catholic Church: civil rights 45;
planning 88–9 conservatism 50; ethnic loyalty 56;
Bell, G. 25, 39, 58, 59 gender 69; Irish Free State 25; Irish
Bennington, J. 85 nationhood 26; nationalism 67–8;
Beresford-Ellis, P. 12–15, 21, 23 opposition to NHS 110; power of 28;
Bertsch, K. 96, 99, 166 sexuality regulation 128–9; training
Bew, P. 41, 55 schemes 91
Bew, P. et al. 52, 59, 78

228
 INDEX
Catholic schools, compared with
Protestant 120
Catholicism: anti-colonialism 14;
identification with nationalism 6;
politics 1–2; women’s role 5
Catholics: civil rights movement 32–3;
equal rights 44; exclusion from state
power 4–5; long-term unemployment
140; middle classes 36–7, 41, 47, 91,
110, 148; nationalism 46, 48;
occupations 146–7; suspect
population 79, 97; Unionists 3, 47–9;
women’s community groups 189–90;
women’s employment 136–7
Cavendish, R. 158
ceasefires: 1994 1; Northern Ireland
82–4; reactions to 196–9
Census (1991) 112, 117, 118, 122, 143;
employment patterns 138–45, 147
Chestnutt, R.V. 112–13, 114
childcare, women 161–2
churches: community identity 63;
education 119–20; hostility to schools
integration 124; Northern Ireland 32;
welfare influence 36; puritanical
values 65; role of 4–5; sexuality 129,
170; welfare provision 110, 124
Civic Unionism 50
civil disorder 43, 80
civil rights: Catholic discrimination 5;
restrictions 60
civil rights movement 2, 4, 32–3;
beginning of 40–2; role of women 45
Clar na mBan 197–8, 200–2
class 55–6, 86, 91; Catholic migration
118; see also middle classes; working
class
Cockburn, C. 157, 158, 181, 183; sexism
in employment 137
Collins, Michael, partition 25
colonialism 2; Catholic perceptions 5;
discourse of 63; Ireland’s past 28–9;
land system 18–19
community groups: social services
provision 124–8; women 187–94
community politics 201
complaints procedures, employment
discrimination 95–6
Compton, P. 48–9
Community Relations Council (CRC) 53
conflict: impact on women 69–72;
Northern Ireland 29; explanations
for 46–52
Connolly, James 58; execution of 23;
ICA 22–3; support for women’s
229
suffrage 23; vision of
independence 22
consensus, Irish affairs, British
parliament 77–8
conservatism, Northern Ireland
churches 32
Conservative party: policy under Direct
Rule 77–9; Unionists 30
constitution: Northern Ireland 74–5;
political vacuum 77; women’s issues
169–70
contraception 28, 129–30, 135
Cormack, R. 54, 139; employment
146, 147–8
Cormack, R.J. 93, 94, 99, 122
Cormack, R.J. et al. 122, 138
Corn Laws, abolition of 19
Corrigan, Mairead 54
Coulter, C. 29
CRC see Comunity Relations Council
Cromwell, Oliver 14
Crotty, R. 14
Cullen, L.M. 18
Curry, C. 49, 66, 162
Curtis, L.: agriculture 19; English rule
13, 15; media restrictions 60, 79;
Orangeism 17; partition 25; racism
61; religious sectarianism 16; women
Fenians 19
Cuthbert, N. 36, 37
dangers, politics 178
David, M. 153
Davies, C. 66, 134; gender
inequalities 109
Davies, C. et al. 54, 137; earnings
differentials 152
Dawson, G. 115–16
de Valera, Eamonn 26
decline, economic 84–5
DED see Department of Economic
Development
Democratic Unionist Party 4, 33, 43
demography: changes 111; employment
patterns 138–45, 147
Department of Economic Development
(DED), Fair Employment
Commission 100–1
Depression, Northern Ireland 34
deProtestantisation, West Belfast 114
Derry: ‘Bloody Sunday’ 44, 74, 79, 203;
Orange Apprentice Boys’ march 42–3
Devlin, Bernadette 42, 171; see also
McAliskey, Bernadette
Diplock courts 81
 INDEX
Direct Rule 9–10; British policy 74–107;
introduction of 44; social policy
110–11; trades unions 179; women
members of parliament 171
discrimination: academic stance 54;
against Catholics 30–1, 92; Catholic
women 36; employment 39–40;
housing 41–2; pressure for change
97–8; religious 94–5
divisions: religious 6; sectarian/gender 13
divorce 129; legalisation 28
domestic violence 71, 126–7, 190
Downing Street Declaration (1993) 47, 75
Dunn, S. 6, 69
earnings, income differentials 150–2
Easter Rising, defeat of 23
economic policy: Direct Rule 76;
Northern Ireland 84–92; the
Troubles 90–2
economy: employment 142–3; Irish
Republic 27; Northern Ireland 37–8;
modernisation 38–40 Northern Irish
subvention 51, 61; politics 39;
religion 40
Edgerton, L. 70, 109
education: Catholic/Protestant
differentials 49, 120; conflict 31;
Direct Rule 76; sectarianism 111;
segregation 119–24; sex 129, 135;
unemployment 141–2
EEC see European Economic
Community
Elliott, S. 75
emigration 29; Great Famine 19; post-
war 27; single women 21
employment: 1990s inequalities 136–68;
anti-discrimination legislation 93–101;
Catholic/Protestant differential 93,
136; changing patterns of 138–52;
gender inequality 152–3; O’Neill’s
modernisation 38; part-time 144–6;
public sector 89–90; religious
discrimination 30–1, 94–6; women
27–8, 33–4, 136–7
endogamy, school role in 121
Engels, F. 14
English, R. 53
English rule, development of 13–15
EOCNI see Equal Opportunities
Commission for Northern Ireland
equal opportunities 54, 92–107
Equal Opportunities Commission for
Northern Ireland (EOCNI) 93, 101,
103–4, 157, 162
230
Equal Pay Act (1970) 101–2
equality legislation, limitations of 105–7
ethnicity 8–9; gender 62–3, 159;
nationalism 56; sectarianism 61–7
EU see European Union
European Court of Human Rights:
British treatment of internees 44; fair
employment test cases 101
European Economic Community (EEC),
Irish membership 27
European integration 91–2
European Parliament, women
candidates 171
European Union (EU) 29; legislative
change 28; sex discrimination law
105–6; sex equality 101
Evason, E. 71
Fair Employment Acts 93–100; main
provisions 98–9; security exemptions
100–1; women’s employment 101
Fair Employment Agency 94–7;
Government interference 97
Fair Employment Commission (FEC) 7,
93, 136–7; DED 100–1
Fairweather, E. 71
Fairweather, E. et al. 71–2
family: feminism 154–5; women’s
subordination 153–5
family planning see contraception
famine see Great Famine
Farrell, M. 38, 40; civil rights movement
43; employment 39; O’Neill 41;
sectarianism 59; unemployment 34,
58; Unionism 30–1
FEC see Fair Employment Commission
feminism 5; British/Irish 203; the family
154–5; gendered work 138; Irish
Republic 50; labour market 152–9;
Mary Robinson 28; politics of 197–8;
Progressive Unionism 51; Protestant
suspicion of 70; sexuality 129; Sinn
Fein 175; trade unions 185–7;
Unionism 175–6; women’s
community groups 188–9
Fenians see Irish Republican Brotherhood
Ferguson, L. 71
Fianna Fail 27
Fine Gael 27
First World War, trade unionism 22
Foster, J. 50
Fothergill, S. 86
Fraser, G. 7, 65, 70, 71, 110
free milk, abolition of 109, 188
fundamentalism, Protestant 50
 INDEX

Gaffikin, F. 78, 84; industry 87; public Home Rule 17–18; opposition to 22;
spending 89 Republicanism 21; welfare
Gallagher, A. 54 proposals 21
Gallagher, A. et al. 105, 124, 149 Home Rule Bill (1912) 22
Gamble, A. 85 Home Rule Party 19
Gardiner, F. 26, 28 homosexual acts, decriminalisation 5,
gay rights 5; Sinn Fein 131 111, 130
gender: changing roles 172; churches 5; Homosexual Law Reform Act
employment inequalities 136–7, 138; (1967) 130–1
equality 92; ethnicity 62–3, 159; homosexuality 130–1; equality
income differentials 150–2; legislation 28; Presbyterianism 121
inequalities 109; Protestantism 65–7; housing: Direct Rule 76; discrimination
religion 159–67; sectarianism 47; 41–2; sectarianism 108; segregation
skills 158–9; subordination and the 111–19
family 153–5; workplace 155–9 Howe, L. 7, 8, 48, 61
general election (1918), Sinn Hume-Adams Agreement 197
Fein success 24 Humphries, J. 155
gerrymandering: civil rights campaign hunger strikes 78, 81
42; Protestant majority 30 Hutchinson, Billy 51
Gibbon, P. 15, 38, 55, 58 Hutton, S. 12
Gillespie, N. 110, 124–5
girls, educational disadvantages 122–3 ICA see Irish Citizens Army
Glendinning, W. 118 ICTU see Irish Congress of Trades
Goldring, M. 15, 17, 32, 34 Unions
Gonne, Maud 12, 23 identity: Catholic/Protestant 61–2; Irish
Gordon, H. 5, 66 nationhood 12; nationalist 3–4, 67–9;
Graham, B. 64 Protestant 63–5, 67; Protestant sense
Graham, D. 97, 115–16 of Britishness 47, 199; religious 4, 7
Gray, R. 154 imperialism, British 58–60
Great Famine 18–20 income distribution, inequalities 36
Green Marxism 58–60 industrial revolution, British 20
Greer, J. 88 industrialisation 18; Irish Republic 27
Gregory, J. 102, 105 industry: 18th century Ireland 15;
Gross Domestic Product (GDP). Northern Ireland 33–4; policy 86–8;
Northern Ireland 84 sectarianism 16–17
groups, community 53–4, 124–8, 187–94 infant mortality, Northern Ireland 35
Gudgin, G. 51, 87 Ingram, K. 137, 158, 161, 166
Guildford Four 82 Innes, C. 29, 63
Guy, N. 86 integration: European 29; schools 123
internees, ill treatment of 44
Hackett, C. 197 internment, introduction of 44, 80
Hall, M. 53, 66 investment, potential loss 90
harassment, sectarian 164, 167; IRA see Irish Republican Army
workplace 106, 164, 167 Irish Citizens Army (ICA): Easter Rising
Harland & Wolff 37, 163, 205 23; formation of 22–3
Harris, L. 27 Irish Congress of Trades Unions (ICTU)
Haslam, Ann, suffrage movement 23 179–81, 184; recognition of 40
Hazelkorn, E. 27 Irish Free State: birth of 25–7; British
health service, Unionist opposition to 36 domination 26–7
Hegarty, A. 105 Irish lobby, North America 78, 92,
Henry VIII, plantations 13 97–8, 105–6
Hepburn, A.C. 15, 30 Irish Republican Army (IRA): bombing
Hinds, B. 161 campaigns 57–8; ceasefire 75, 82–4,
196–7; ceasefire collapse 1, 74–5, 76,
83; economic targets 82; ethnic

231
 INDEX

nationalism 56; political aim 79; local government, Direct Rule 76

rearmament 44 Lovett, T. 64
Irish Republican Brotherhood (the loyalists: paramilitaries 49, 82–4;
Fenians) 19 women’s role 71–2
Irish Transport and General Workers’ Lucy, G. 171
Union (ITGWU) 22 Lyons, F.S.L. 33, 35
Irish Women’s Franchise League Lysaght, D.R. 59–60
(IWFL) 24
Isles, K.S. 36, 37 McAliskey, Bernadette 77, 197, 200; see
ITGWU see Irish Transport and General also Devlin, Bernadette
Workers’ Union McAteer, G. 110
IWFL see Irish Women’s Franchise McAuley, J. 7, 8, 58, 64–5, 69
League MacBride Principles 97–8, 115
MacBride, Sean 98
Jackson, P. 104, 137 McCormack, I. 96, 132, 168, 183, 184
Jacobson, K. 27 McCormack, P. 58
job creation 90–1 McCormack, V. 92, 95; fair
Johnson, D.S. 33 employment 98, 99
McCrudden, C. 94, 95, 97, 99, 100
Kennedy, K. 33 MacDonagh, O. 25
Kennedy, K. et al. 37 McDonagh, P. 88, 89
killings: doorstep 117; sectarian 71 McGarry, J. 46, 56–7, 71
Klein, V. 154 McGivern, W. 113
Kofman, E. 9, 28, 29, 50, 111 McGovern, M. 61, 91
Kremer, J. 49, 66, 137, 162 McGuire, M. 137, 166
Mclntosh, M. 153, 154, 155
McKernan, J. 126
labour force, women 27–8 McKiernan, J. 65, 71
labour market, feminism 152–9
McLaughlin, E. 5, 17–18, 28, 63; gender
Labour Party: historical weakness 27;
inequalities 109; women’s
policy under Direct Rule 77–9
employment 137, 158, 160, 161, 166;
land: colonial system 18–19;rents 14–15 women’s unemployment 34
Land Acts (1870, 1880s), Ireland 20, 21 McNamee, P. 64
Land League 19 McWilliams, M. 101; contraception
landlords: absentee 14; declining
129–30; domestic violence 71, 126;
power 20
employment 144, 160; employment
Lee, J.J. 27, 40–1, 64; Unionist
inequalities 137; role of women 32,
discrimination 48 63, 65, 104
legislation: equal opportunities 92–107, Maguire, M. 137, 166
157, 162; fair employment 93–101, Major, John 78
136–7; homosexualty 5, 28, 111,
majority rule 57
130–1; sex equality 101–5
‘male breadwinner’ ideology 109, 111,
legislative change, European Union 28
135, 137
Leninist theory 58–9 marginalisation: Ireland 29; Northern
lesbian rights 190; see also gay rights; Irish Catholics 30; of women 26,
homosexuality 65, 202
Lester, A. 102
Markievicz, Constance 12; suffrage
Lewis, J. 109
movement 23, 24
liberalism: gender subordination
Marlowe, T. 58
153–4; Irish Republic 50; Northern marriage: mixed 7; post-famine 20
Ireland 53–5 Marshall, J. 157
linen industry 15 Marx, K. 14
living standards, Northern Ireland 84–5
Marxism: Green 58–60; Northern
local councils: women elected to 171;
Ireland 52, 55–6; Unionism 47
women’s participation in 176–9
Maxwell, P. 93, 96, 103

232
 INDEX
Mayhew, Patrick 53
Meaney, G. 29, 68
Melaugh, M. 113
middle classes: Catholic 36–7, 41, 47, 91,
148; segregation 118; ties to Catholic
Church 110
misogyny, 1937 Constitution 26
Mitchell Commission report 83
modernisation, economic 38–40
Montgomery, P. 66, 134, 137
Moore, R. 66–7
Morgan, A. 55
Morgan, V. 7, 8, 63, 69, 70–1, 110
Morrissey, M. 78, 84, 137; industry 87;
public spending 89
Morrow, D. et al 8, 63, 65
Moss, P. 161
Moxon-Browne, E. 8, 64, 70
multi-party talks, Northern Ireland 82
multinationals: employment 33; non-
sectarian employment 39–40; women
workers 27
Munck, R. 29, 34–5, 51, 56, 59
Murray, D. 6, 117, 119–20, 122, 123
Murtagh, B. 112, 115–16
Myrdal, A. 154
Nairn, T. 52
National Health Service (NHS):
establishment of 110; restructuring
of 111
national identity: contested nature of
3–4; religious basis of 4
nationalism: Catholics 46, 48; gender
68–9; identity issues 67–9; Northern
Ireland 56–8
nationalist movement: identity 3; women
in 12, 71–2; women’s suffrage 23
Neill, W. 88
Nelson, S. 65, 70, 188
newly industrialising countries (NICs),
competition 85
Newsinger, J. 79, 80, 81, 83
NHS see National Health Service
NILP see Northern Ireland Labour Party
Nobel Peace Prize, Peace People 54
Northern Committee of the Irish
Congress of Trade Unions (ICTU) 36
Northern Ireland: creation of 3, 12;
Protestant majority 30
Northern Ireland Civil Rights
Association (NICRA) 42
Northern Ireland Labour Party
(NILP) 37
233
Northern Ireland Women’s
Coalition 195
occupations: Catholic/Protestant
differences 146–9, 163; stereotyping
162–5
O’Conell, Daniel 19–20
O’Connor, F. 7, 8, 63; Catholic middle
class 110; Nationalism 67–8;
Unionism 48, 61
O’Dowd, L. 36, 38; ceasefire 83;
economy 90; employment 38, 39, 40,
76; Protestantism 65; sectarianism 16,
59; welfare provision 36
ODR see Outdoor Relief Workers
Committee
O’Hara J. 92, 95; fair employment 98, 99
O’Leary, B. 46, 56–7, 71
Olson, A. 155
O’Neill, Terence, Northern Ireland,
economic modernisation 38–42
Orange marches 62, 201
Orange Order 15, 16, 17, 21
Osborne, R.D. 49, 54, 93, 94, 99;
education 122; employment 139,
146, 147–8
Outdoor Relief Workers Committee
(ODR), strike 34–5
Owens, R.C., women’s suffrage 23–4
Paisley, Ian 4, 33, 65; Democratic
Unionist Party 43; Fair Employment
Agency 96–7
Paisley, Ian (Jnr) 123, 171, 173
Paisley, Rhonda 66, 173, 177, 179
Palmer, S. 58
paramilitaries 200; loyalist 49; loyalist
women 71
Parker, Dehra 171
parliament, women’s representation in
171–2
Parnell, Charles Stewart 19–20
partition 3, 12, 24–5; origins of 14;
politics of 197; women’s
marginalisation 26
Pateman, C. 153
patriarchy, Irish states 26
Patterson, H. 41, 55
Payment of Debt Act 80–1
Peace People 54, 195
peace process, women 1, 195–203
Penal Laws (1695–1727) 14
Perkins, T. 155
Phadraig, M. 26
Phillips, A. 158
 INDEX
Phizacklea, A. 159
Pillinger, J. 28
plantations, Henry VIII 13
police, domestic violence 127
policing, paramilitary techniques 81
Policy Appraisal and Fair Treatment
(PAFT) guidelines 105
policy making: women’s exclusion from
170–1; women’s involvement in 173
political freedom, British/Irish
ranking 28
political status, prisoners 81
political vetting, social work groups 128
politics: dangers 178; economic issues 39;
middle class Catholics 37;
realignment 29; religion 1–3, 46;
sectarianism dominance in 170; sexual
172; women 4, 32, 66–7, 70, 77;
women’s issues 169, 169–79
poverty, Northern Ireland 35
Prevention of Terrorism Act (PTA) 4, 60,
77; extension of powers 83
Price, J. 175
Price sisters, hunger strike 81
prisoners: women 200; see also internees
private sector, Northern Ireland 88–9
Probert, B. 39
Progressive Unionist Party (PUP) 51,
199–200
Protestant schools, compared with
Catholic 120
Protestantism: Home Rule resistance 21;
identification with unionism 6;
politics 1–2; sexuality regulation
128–9; state apparatus 3; women’s
role 5–6
Protestants: discrimination against
Catholics 30–1; gender 65–7; loss of
ascendancy 69–70; occupations
146–7; skilled labour monopolisation
17; state school dominance 120;
Unionism 44, 46; women’s
community groups 189
PTA see Prevention of Terrorism Act
public bodies, women’s representation
on 171
public sector, Northern Ireland 89–90
public spending, Northern Ireland 89–90
PUP see Progressive Unionist Party
puritanism, Irish Catholic Church 20
quangos, trade union representation 179
Quigley Report 39
234
racism: employment 136;
Unionism 48, 61
reconciliation, voluntary groups 53–4
Red Marxism 55–6
reforms, Northern Ireland 52–6, 74
Reid, A. 58
religion: community divisions 6;
economic change 40; employment
discrimination 94–6; employment
inequalities 137, 138–40, 142–9;
gender 159–67; income differentials
150–2; politics 46; schools 120–1; see
also Catholics; Protestants
rents, land 14–15
repression, security forces 80
Republicanism 67–8; feminism 5;
Home Rule 21; partition 25;
women’s role 71
Ridd, R. 70
Robinson, Mary: abortion 26; election as
President 28
Rolston, B. 34–5, 75, 89, 90, 116, 167,
180, 183; Fair Employment Agency
96; segregation 116; trade unions 167,
180. 183
Rooney, E. 170, 173, 176; women’s
community groups 187–92
Roper, S. 87, 90
Rossiter, A. 19, 26
Roulston, C. 186
Rowthorn, B. 13, 26, 37, 38, 90;
economic policy 84; political
discrimination 39; unemployment 140
Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC) 201;
Protestantism 74; sectarian violence
29; violence 42–3
Royal Victoria Hospital 104, 166, 168,
184, 185
Rubinstein, M. 54, 102, 158
RUG see Royal Ulster Constabulary
Rumpf, E. 15, 30
St Leger, F. 110, 124–5
Sales, R. 9, 29, 50, 105, 111;
employment 28, 160, 163, 168; sexual
harassment 157
Sands, Bobby 78, 81
schools, non-denominational 53–4
SDLP see Social and Democratic Labour
Party
Seager, J. 155
Second World War, Northern Ireland 35
sectarian divide 2
sectarianism 4; deep-roots of 202;
employment 34, 90; ethnicity 61–7;
 INDEX
gender 47; industrial 16–17; killings
79; politics 39; social policy 108–35;
trade union opposition to 167; trade
unions 183–4; Unionist reinforcement
of 36
security, British policy 79–82
security forces, partiality 79–80
segregation 6; education 119–24;
housing 111–19; interface areas 116
self-determination 56
Sex Discrimination Order (1976) 101–2
sex education 129, 135
sexism: employment 136; women in
politics 178
sexual assault, women in custody 81
sexual discrimination, employment 96
sexual equality: European Union 101;
James Connolly 22; legislation 101–5
sexual harassment, workplace 157, 167
sexual politics 28
sexuality, regulation of 111, 128–34
Shankhill Women’s Centre 127, 195
Sharkey, S. 29
Sheehan, M. 94, 101, 106
Shirlow, P. 61, 91
shoot to kill policy 82
Shorts 94, 166; sectarian harassment 164
Shuttleworth, I. 112, 117
single parents, segregation 118–19
Sinn Fein: abortion stance 132; anti-
colonialism 57; conservatism 22, 24;
electoral success 82; exclusion from
multi-party talks 82; foundation 21;
gay rights 131; local councils 76;
Mitchell report 83; Proclamation of
Irish Republic 24; Women in Struggle
71; women’s participation in 81, 174–
5, 201; Women’s Policy document 69
skills, gender 158–9
Smith, A. 121, 122, 124
Smyth, M. 28, 108, 115, 117, 119;
abortion 131; social work 125–6
Social and Democratic Labour Party
(SDLP): inception of 41; withdrawal
from Stormont 44; women’s
committee 173–4
social policy: change 27–8; ‘male
breadwinner’model 109, 111, 135;
sectarianism 108–35
social services: non-sectarian client
allocation 125–6; Northern
Ireland 124–8
society, increase in fluidity 70
Special Powers Act, repeal of 42
Stalker Inquiry 82
235
Standing Advisory Commission on
Human Rights (SACHR) 54
state schools, Protestant dominance 120
stereotyping, occupational 162–5
Stewart, P. 12, 56
Stormont 12–45; abolition of 5, 9, 32–44,
74, 75; establishment of 3; NILP 37–
8; Treaty settlement 29–30; Unionist
control 30; women elected to 171
Strauss, E. 14, 18, 20
subordination, gender and family 153–5
subvention, Northern Ireland 51, 61
suffrage movement, Ireland 23–4
Sweeney, P. 125
Taillon, R. 110, 128, 194
Taillon, R. et al 119
Tang Nain, G. 136
tariffs: Home Rule debate 21; policy 18
taxation, Ireland 21
Taylor, B. 158
Taylor, M. 85
Teague, P. 38, 51
ten Tusscher, T. 85
terrorism 60
Thatcher, Margaret 78, 81; free milk
abolition 109, 188
Tomlinson, M. 89, 92, 116
trade unions 27, 36, 179–85; abortion
stance 132; civil rights support 33;
employment inequality 167; feminism
185–7; gender inequality 156; ODR
strike 34–5; opposition to
sectarianism 167, 170, 179; quangos
40; rise of 22; sectarianism 183–4; the
Troubles 184–5; women 180–3
Treaty of Rome, sex equality 101
Trewsdale, J. 38, 49, 137; part-time
employment 144–5
troops, Callaghan Government 43–4
the Troubles: discussion of 7–8;
economic policy 90–2; impact on
women 69; perceived causes 46; trade
unions 184–5
UDA see Ulster Defence Association
Ulster Custom 15
Ulster Defence Association (UDA) 49;
ceasefire 1
Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) 49;
Home Rule opposition 22; sectarian
murders 43
unemployment: 1930s Depression 34–5;
Catholic/Protestant differential 48–9,
54–5, 93, 97–9, 139–46; Catholics 39;
 INDEX
Irish economy 27; Northern Ireland
37–8, 84
Union, Act of 16
Unionism, fundamental tenets of
47–52
Unionist parties: discrimination against
Catholics 3; women’s participation in
175; women’s subordination 4
Unionists: Catholic marginalisation 30;
civil rights movement 43; identity 3;
opposition to NHS 110;
Protestantism 46; welfare state
opposition 36
united Ireland, 1937 Constitution 26
United Irishmen Rising (1798) 15
United States (US): fair employment
pressure 101; Irish lobby 78, 92,
97–8, 105–6
unmarried mothers 190
urban planning, Belfast 88–9
UVF see Ulster Volunteer Force
violence: domestic 65–6, 126–7; IRA 82;
loyalist paramilitaries 49; potential
investment loss 90; resumption of
201; RUC 42–3; sanctioning of 70–1;
sectarian 29–30, 126
voluntary groups, women’s 53–4, 127–8
Walby, S. 152, 155, 156, 183
war of independence 3, 24, 25, 204
Ward, Judith, release of 82
Ward, M. 5, 23, 42, 186; women
nationalists 19
236
Warren, Bill, Marxism 52
Waylen, G. 153
Wayne, N. 26, 37, 38, 90, 140; economic
policy 84; political discrimination 39
welfare state: Catholic/Protestant
‘Apartheid’ 36; Northern Ireland 36;
Northern Ireland model 109;
Progressive Unionism 51
Wickham, J. 27
Wilford, R. 75
Wilford, R. et al. 176–9
Williams, Betty 54
Williams, F. 85, 155
Wilson, Harold 41
Wilson Plan (1964) 38
Witz, A. 152
Women Together for Peace 195–6
Women’s Coalition 6
Women’s Political and Social Union
(WPSU) 24
women’s rights 28; Sinn Fein 175
women’s suffrage: Ireland 23–4; voting
rights won 26
Woods, M. 170, 173, 176; women’s
community groups 187–92
workforce, female 17–18
working class: divisions in 58;
segregation 117–18
workplace: gender 155–9; harassment
106, 164, 167; segregation 165–7;
sexual harassment 157
Young Ireland movement 16
Yuval Davis, N. 9, 61–2, 136