Image provided by: University of Nebraska-Lincoln Libraries, Lincoln, NE
About The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current | View Entire Issue (March 8, 1996)
Belfast Continued from Page 1 keeper with his rifle slung nonchalantly across his shoulder, while another one went inside to buy groceries. The soldiers don’t point their weapons at motorists anymore. More than 400 extra British soldiers have been sent to the Royal Ulster Constabulary bases for border patrol, but they don’t drill the streets in droves. In Belfast on a busy Thursday night, the only soldiers to be found were off-duty and eating Whoppers at the local Burger King. Although they couldn’t give their names, one of the soldiers said the 17-month cease-fire erased some of the contempt. “Before, people would shy away or spit on a soldier,” he said. “Now, you get a wink or a wave when you walk down the street. “People feel a lot safer now.” No going back After getting a taste of peace for 17 months, the people of Northern Ireland don’t want to give it up. And they won’t give in. Manus Maguire, 37, is a journalist for the left-wing newspa per in Belfast. He used a mega phone to urge people to sign a petition for peace. The table was a magnet for people of all ages, and few passed without signing or taking a leaflet. The people need to take the peace process into their own hands, he said. “We have to insist that ordinary people get involved in the talks,” he said. “The majority of the working class people are not represented. No voice speaks on behalf of the majority.” For the past 25 years, he said, a minority of people have been injecting sectarianism into the public to divide the people and force them to go to one political party or another. “Political parties depend on sectarian lines,” he said. “They have an interest in keeping people apart.” Agree to Diane, 34, a housewife from the heavily loyalist Shankill area of Belfast, and her daughter Denise, 19, said people always would remain apart — but they don’t have to remain violent. “There will always be bigots,” Denise said, “and there’s so much hatred.” Diane agreed. “We’ll never get together,” she said, “but we can keep our own traditions separate and agree to live dlsag ree Manus Maguire, 37, asks people to sign a petition for peace in Belfast, Northern Ireland. Maguire is a journalist from Belfast. and let live.” Both mother and daughter staunchly defended Northern Ireland’s right to remain part of the United Kingdom, and criticized the IRA’s use of violence to “get its own way.” “We can live together, but live apart,” Diane said. “We can agree to diflcr.” “They can live in their world, and we can live in ours.” The suspicion is also still there. For instance, they wouldn’t give their last names because “it could be anybody looking for informa tion.” Back in the pub, the attitude of trust is slightly different. Ali Killen, 25, is a software engineer from Co. Monaghan, a county in the Republic of Ireland. Glenn Millen, 27, is a doctoral student in computing science from Co. Londonderry in Northern Ireland. While Millen won’t drive down the nationalist-dominated Falls Road, he’ll stay at the house of a nationalist that night. “There’s a bloody bomb under your bed tonight,” Killen shouted to Millen, and laughed. Killen is Catholic. Millen is Protestant. They’re the best of friends. They’re joined by Wilkinson, who is also Protestant, and Sean Redmond, 30, a doctoral student in computing science from Croydon in South London. Killen argues his nationalist point of view about why there should be a “united Ireland” for the good of the island itself. Redmond says England will never release Northern Ireland because it will disrupt the union, and unionist votes are important in Parliament. Economically, they argue, the Republic oflreland’s unemploy ment rate is too high to take on Northern Ireland, as well. And then there are the scars of the conflict. “Have you ever had to scrape the brains of your friend off the wall?” Millen asked. Millen did. A man he knew was killed by an IRA bomb. “Do you know what people look like when they’ve been blown up?” Millen asked. “They look like mush. Like mincemeat. If I knew that someone here was in the IRA, and you gave me a gun, I would have no problem killing him and being able to go to sleep that night.” He turned to Killen and asked if he would turn in anyone he knew was a member of the IRA. “No, you wouldn’t,” Millen said, “and if I knew someone in a loyalist paramilitary, I couldn’t turn him in either.” The question isn’t entirely hypothetical. Millen’s childhood friend was a member of a loyalist paramilitary. He is serving a life sentence for killing a nationalist. And what keeps Millen, Wilson, Redmond and Killen out of those statistics? “You see us here,” Killen said. “We’re educated. We have jobs, and we’re more concerned with getting on with our lives. “But if you have someone our age who is unemployed and uneducated, he needs somewhere to turn, someone to make him somebody.” That someone could be the IRA, or a whole range of loyalist paramilitaries. They don’t achieve goals by political means. Instead, they’re disillusioned with a cause and see violence as the solution. “In 25 years,” Redmond said, “violence never solved anything.” Get used to it Apart from the paramilitary murals dotting the Shankill and Falls roads, the physical scars of “the troubles” are gone from Northern Ireland. Sky-scraping office blocks grew out of bombed-out buildings. Glass-fronted shopping centers and parking lots defy terrorist intimida tion as they sprout up across the city. Tourism has grown by 55 percent after the first cease-fire of 1994. Foreign investment, employ ment opportunities and capital all have seen the benefits of peace. Even the Europa, the most bombed hotel in Europe, was secure enough to house President Bill Clinton when he visited in November. During the cease-fire, there have been bomb threats, but most turn out to be hoaxes. Jonathan Smyth, 20, and Daniel McCartan, 19, work in a shop next to the Europa. They had to evacu ate for a few hours during a threat last week but saw it as more of an inconvenience than anything. The recent bomb in London did cause some insecurity, though. “We work with a lot of Catho lics,” Smyth said. “When we came back to work Monday, everybody was really numb.” McCartan was coming back from Manchester, England, that weekend and ran into tight security at London’s Heathrow Airport. The “panic factor,” he said, soon wore off. “At the start, there was a real impact,” Smyth said, “but the people in Northern Ireland just get used to it.” People aren’t holed in at night in fear. They come to the movie theaters. They stay at the pubs for hipurs past closing time. r “You have to carry on because if you feel it’s affecting your life, it will get really bad,” McCartan said. Carrying on means socializing with all people and dropping the prejudice, they said. “People are very mixed, and we really all think alike,” Smyth said. “People of different religious backgrounds get along fine. We socialize together.” While McCartan said it was hard to forget the past, “you just have to accept it.” Closing' time The argument back at the pub has been raging for hours. It could go on all night. On this particular evening, the pub is emptying out, and Ali, who is housing everyone for the night, tries to motivate his friends for another drink or two before heading home. The streets of Belfast are packed. Police officers, who still have their heavily armored ve hicles, are—at the moment— more concerned with rowdy teens than paramilitary bombers. the friends have abandoned their argument on politics, and argue about where to eat. The popular vote goes to Burger King. So the Catholic, two Protestants and the Englishman go for a burger, and Northern Ireland ' spends another day in peace. TREKusa has devel oped a line oi bicycles to | complement your style... rruui un-rudumg to getting you to that 8:30 class. For more performance, try the Trek 850. Built tough in Wisconsin, features include Shimano STX components and Matrix Lobo rims. Only $440. For all around riding, test ride "our best seller," the Trek 820. Features include cromoly frame and fork with 21 speed Shimano compo nents. 4^ A best buy for $330. CYCLE WORKS 27th & VINE 475-BIKE From 64 there will come. FINAL FOUR NCAA Brackets available in Monday's Daily Nebraskan! DOUGLAS THEATRES Movie Info: 441-0222 Call for Showtimes! PRESS: ® ® ® ® CINEMA TWIN DOUGLAS EAST PARK 3 EDGEWOOD 3 THE LINCOLN PLAZA 4 STARSHIP STUART COMING SOON imSbi Better Ingredients. Better Pizza. CORNHUSKER'S PJ L.L.C. AN INDEPENDENTLY OWNED & OPERATED FRANCHISE LATE NITE SPECIAL AFTER 9 PM ANY LARGE SINGLE TOPPING PIZZA ONLY 1601Q STREET • SUITE C • LINCOLN NEBRASKA 68508 476-6262 4 >3 .9C> I ■ ANY LARGE PIZZA FOR THE PRICE OF A SMALL Expires 30 days. Not valid with any other offer. Valid only at participating | locations. Customer pays all applicable! sales tax. Additional toppings extra | I FAMILY SPECIAL One Large with The Works & One Large Two Toppings $^098 Expires 30 days. Not valid with any other offer. Valid only at participating locations. Customer pays all applicable |^sales tax. Additional toppings extra
