10:18 A.M. June 29, 2012

10:18 A.M. June 29, 2012

It's a rainy morning in Clones, my first day in the Republic of Ireland. Sometime soon Lauren and the girls will be making their way to the airport, and by this time tomorrow I'll meet them in Dublin.

The first two weeks here have been emotionally packed. Though the trip has been well-paced, every interaction leaves much to process. Yesterday Jenae and I took a cab to visit Interaction Belfast, an organization working along the West Belfast interface we had walked the day before. Our cab driver, a man younger than me, grew up in St. James, a rough neighborhood down the road from where the flag had been placed on the mountain. His family's claim to fame was having a photo of their neighborhood in the paper under the heading, "worst housing in the UK." He was witness to eleven murders by the time he was 15, which he described to us in some detail on our ten minute drive.

Moments later we were served tea and biscuits by a lovely man a bit younger than my parents who had been      a loyalist combatant in the troubles. The tattoos on his arms told the story of his life: from those he gave himself as a young man; to those he received in prison serving a life sentence for murders, attempted murders, armed robberies, and other crimes; to those he got after release. He was released as part of the Good Friday agreement in 1989, and has been working in peace-building programs ever since. "The thing you have to know," he told us, "is it's not as if those people fighting were sociopaths...they didn't wake up one morning wanting to kill people." They were mostly children killing children, he explained, the children on his side recruited by their priests and M.P.'s (Member of Parliament) to defend their community. He was 40 years old before he set foot in a Catholic neighborhood, literally across the street.

They call any place where Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods brush up against one another an 'interface'. Sometimes they are separated by a wall, sometimes a road, sometimes a stretch of bare ground. The interfaces have historically been volatile, with violence on both sides. Roison McGlone, one of my colleagues from INCORE and a  self described non-violent combatant, came to Interaction Belfast as the Director twelve years ago. At the time, most people were sick of the violence in their neighborhoods, and blamed the other side for starting trouble. She sold them on the mobile phone network as a peacekeeping strategy. Key community leaders who lived on either side of the interface were given mobile phones. In the beginning, when there was trouble they would try and move people along, and call in to the staff, who would alert the other side, or if needed, the police. Later Interaction Belfast provided phone lists to the phone holders so they could call the other side directly - but the distrust was so high the list simply had phone numbers and the letters "U" for unionist (those who favor a union between Ireland and Britain) and "N" for Nationalist (those who favor a united Irish Nation).  After years, Roisin was able to bring the phone holders together for weekly meetings. They were rough at the start, with members of each side blaming the other for the violence. Over time, they came to see that they all wanted the same thing - to have safety for their communities. The greatest gains came when they were able to bring the phone holders together away from their community to engage in strategic planning, and really see how similar they were. In this way, peacekeeping was peace-building. 

Roisin, Amie and Noel  at Interaction 

While Roisin sees that individuals have moved greatly in the peace process, she contends that at any moment, a single event could take her community two steps back. The current challenge, as she sees it, is getting beyond the "politics of containment" - there is a lack of political will to tackle some of the most contentious issues that continue to polarize communities. From Roisin's perspective, the parades of the Orange Order are at the heart of this. There are over 3500 parades in Northern Ireland each year. While most are peaceful, some march directly through Catholic neighborhoods - equivalent to anti-Indian groups marching through Montana reservations. While there have been negotiations about many things - building shared spaces along the interfaces, and integrating the police force, for example - the parades and the Orange Order (who currently have 2 recognized 'bank holidays' observed by the country) continue to be "off the table" for negotiation.


It will be good to have a few days outside of Northern Ireland to sift through all the stories I have heard these past two weeks, to try and make sense of what it means in this context, and how these learnings might inform our work back home. 

11:12 P.M. Wednesday, June 27, 2012

11:12 P.M. Wednesday June 27, 2012

Today the Queen of England came to Northern Ireland and shook the hand of Martin McGuinness, the leader of Sinn Fein and a former IRA combatant. The significance of this can not be overstated: it is one of the most potent symbols of the peace process in the last decade. At the same time, the Queen's visit was not uncontested. Yesterday, a 40 foot Irish flag appeared on Black Mountain, accompanied by the old word for Ireland, Eriu. The message was clear: Ireland is our queen.

The flag was placed and guarded by Republicans, and last night a group of loyalists tried to remove the flag. A fight broke out, with several injuries. Catholic youths retaliated, throwing bricks through the windows of Protestant shops in a neighboring community. The flag is still on the mountain today, and we could just make out the shapes of a mass of people standing guard.

We walked through this West Belfast neighborhood to visit Jessica, a colleague from INCORE who works with Belfast Conflict Resolution Consortium (BCRC). For years, republic and loyalist groups would not talk directly with one another without intermediaries. BCRC formed after the disarming of the paramilitary organizations, bringing together two of the largest loyalist groups with two of the largest republican groups to work together to keep peace and strengthen their communities. Ironically, their main office is located in a Catholic neighborhood, and the loyalist staff members do not feel comfortable or safe coming to work. The staff remains segregated on opposite sides of the many walls that divide this city (not only are their walls above ground, there are walls below. When the Catholic cemetery was forced to open space for Protestants to be buried, the priest required a subterranean wall to be built separating the two communities).

BCRC's work is both peace keeping and peace building: on nights like last, community delegates on each side work to deescalate conflict, and send word to one another and the police about what is going on. BCRC also facilitates community development projects, bringing people together around common ground concerns like economic development.

We ended the day with Barry, another colleague from INCORE who works with  Cooperation Ireland. Cooperation Ireland works on the macro level - organizing today's historic meeting between the Queen and McGuinness, as well as on the community level.  Barry is Catholic; his office is based in a heavily Protestant neighborhood. His latest project involves outreach to British military families stationed in Belfast while their loved ones are deployed in Iraq and Afghanistan. 

Perhaps unsurprisingly (as it happens in the U.S. as well), there is a fair amount of competition among the peace-building organizations around who is doing the "real work." From an outside perspective, all the work appears incredibly valuable and needed. These two organizations, for example, have different spheres of influence. They are able to affect different types of change. Both are incredibly relevant to the history that has been made today.

One of the sweetest moments of the day was stumbling upon Ned Reynolds, a muralist from the Republic who now lives in Belfast. He is just completing a community mural project as part of a revitalization project of South Belfast's  Sandy Row. The neighborhood identified images of people from their community to recognize - from the opera singing butcher to sports heroes. Their faces now line the block. As we were visiting with Ned, an old timer came by to talk about the people he remembered and learn about the people he didn't know. One of the many small, significant projects to shift the stories this community tells about itself.

7:28 P.M. June 26, 2012

7:28 P.M. June 26, 2012

Belfast is full of beauty and culture and history and sadness. We were drawn into the Ulster Museum by the Da Vinci drawings, but captivated by the exhibit, "From Plantation to Power Sharing," charting the relationship between England and Ireland from the 1500's. It's been a long conflict.

Belfast is roughly divided into five communities. Central Belfast is home to two college campuses and is very international; there are people from at least seven countries in our hostel. The rest of the city is divided north, south, east, and west. We took a Black Cab Tour of West Belfast, where a 40" Peace Wall runs between Protestant and Catholic neighborhoods. There are four gates that lock each night at 10 P.M., keeping cars and pedestrians from passing into one another's territory.

A map of Belfast's walls. 

A view of a West Belfast wall, from the Protestant side

The West Belfast wall separates poor communities from poor communities, each who have been promised economic advancement by their respective political parties (as in decent housing and schools) that, by the look of things, has never been delivered.

The Protestant's are preparing for the annual July 11 bonfire, which, according to wikipedia and Walter, our tour guide, commemorates "the victory of Protestant king William of Orange over Catholic King James II at the Battle of the Boyne (1690)." This pallet bonfire will rise above the top of the wall, sending a message to the entire city. After a week thinking about discourse analysis, I wonder: what is the intended message? for whom is it intended? 

As in Derry, murals tell a powerful story as each side of the wall memorializes their fallen and their heroes. Once again, I am struck by the ways violence is memorialized, ritualized, glorified and normalized in Northern Ireland. As an artist, I wonder how art making helps people to make sense of their lived experience and integrate their loss, trauma, and grief. As a peace-practitioner, I wonder how art serves as a powerful propaganda perpetuating mistrust, disgust, and violence. 

Protestant mural

Catholic mural

Burrito mural.

1:20 A.M. June 26, 2012

We spent two days in Portrush, on the Northern coast. Everyone wants to know where we are from, and why we are here, and when I tell them I'm studying peace and conflict, everyone has something to say. The first night we met a bunch of women at a "hen party" (the equivalent of a bachelorette party) who, in the midst of their revelry, wanted to tell me lots about their perspective of the situation in Northern Ireland. Their sense is that things are fine now, that the vast majority of people have no issues with one another, and that the only real issues are with radical fringe groups. "It's all in how you are raised," one women from Belfast explained, going on to say that she had learned from her parents it was unacceptable to make disparaging remarks about Catholics, and that the younger generation sees no barrier at all. I asked about intermarriage, and she said it was becoming more common, and that if anyone had a problem with it, it was the Catholics. I asked about the "peace walls," the walls separating Catholic and Protestant communities throughout Belfast, and she said they are mostly down. She shared that her father was in the Orange Order, a Protestant brotherhood that formed in part to suppress Catholicism.She was pulled back into the party before I could ask her more about how she reconciled these apparent contradictions. 

Yesterday, we hiked the Giant's Causeway, 8 miles of beaches and cliffs and the magical manifestations of igneous rock. We returned to our B&B in time to see the Orange Order parade through town, a frequent occurring during the summer parade season. 

Coast of Northern Ireland

Last night we met two men, old friends who grew up a few miles outside of Portrush. They too asked why I was here, and then shared their experiences as Catholics growing up in Northern Ireland. They talked about the Orange Order, which at one time included 1 in 5 protestant men in the North. Members could not date or marry Catholics, they could not attend a wedding in a catholic church, nor could they attend a funeral. Rules have loosened some, but they were very clear that the roots of this order were to keep Catholicism and unification efforts from taking hold in the North.

It was clear, in these two days, how differently people here see the same situation. Now we are in Belfast, where over 90 "peace walls" remain; tomorrow Jenae and I will tour the walls and deepen out understanding of Belfast's history.

4:52 P.M. Saturday, June 23

It was bittersweet to leave Derry today. Yesterday we finished out the program with presentations from some of our colleagues. The expertise in the room covered the globe: Fatima presented on her work with UNESCO in Haiti; Csabas on the history of conflict between Hungary and Serbia, Romania and Slovenia; Waqo on his efforts to curb sectarian hate speech in Kenya. Perhaps most compelling for me was hearing from the folks leading community-based (as opposed to government sponsored) work here in Ireland. Carole works at an adult education center in Belfast using the arts to bring people together to envision a shared future. Barry works at Cooperation Ireland, and has led city wide youth projects in Belfast exploring the impacts of the past on their lives today. Thankfully, I’ll be visiting the Belfast crew next week, and seeing some of their work firsthand.

So, what have I learned this first week? As the histories of conquest, colonization, and resistance in our own country defy easy explanation, so to do the histories here. In 1921, 26 counties in Ireland won their independence from Britain; the six counties that remained part of England are what we know as Northern Ireland. The Northern Ireland “Troubles” are often simplified for the world audience as two competing narratives: One the one hand are the Catholic Republicans who see Britain (and those loyal to the queen) as an external oppressor who continues to economically and socially suppress the Irish, and misuse government and police power. On the other hand are the Protestant Loyalists who see the Republicans as terrorists who threaten the safety, security, and livelihood of all.

The violent conflict peaked here in the 1960’s-1980; there were many hundreds of lives lost and many thousands of lives disrupted. The Good Friday Peace Agreement was signed in 1998, and a sort of political truce took told. If we imagine a continuum with peacekeeping at one end (ensuring basic safety and security, stopping violence) and peace building at the other (building relationships across group lines, increasing empathy and understanding, setting and acting on common goals), Northern Ireland is still somewhere in the middle. 

There is significantly less violence, but there still is violence. There have been three killings in the last couple years, and several recent bombings.  Sectarian divisions remain deeply entrenched. In Derry, Catholics and Protestants are separated geographically, with Catholics almost exclusively west of the River Foyle and Protestants to the east. I stumbled across 1 integrated school on a run outside of Derry; 95% of children attend segregated schools. This basic division is further complicated; I have lost count of the number of groups and subgroups on each side which claim distinctions from one another with regard to how they frame the problem, understand solutions, and seek interventions.

And then of course there are all the other divisions in society that also show up here; prejudice based on ethnicity (in Derry there is a group they call Gypsies, or Traveler’s – apparently unrelated to the Roma people – who are warily regarded), gender, sexual orientation, ability, age and class.

And everything is intensified by the current economy. There is 50% unemployment among Derry youth (~ages 14-25) today. It’s nearly impossible to find a job, and even if you had the money, quite difficult to even get a meal after 7 P.M. Many restaurants and businesses have closed down; the pubs are always packed.

Most of the time it has felt like England may have won the war to keep Northern Ireland, but Derry won the battle for this city. But last night the sectarianism, recession, and divisions all seemed to collide. I left the Metro bar at 2 A.M. (more cultural research) with a group from Derry and Belfast to discover “Rovies” (Police land rovers) out in force, and officers positioned on corners with machine guns crossed against their chests. In this - the site of Bloody Sunday - police presence is always suspect, and the Derry women were quick to point out that their presence simply incites distrust, frustration, and anger. “It’s not good,” one woman explained, “there’s no reason for them to be here, and the boys roll out of the bar and see this; they’re just asking for problems.” Around the corner a church group was handing out free coffee and tea, their attempt to deescalate tensions between those leaving the pubs and the police.

I loved this week. I loved the people I met, the stories I heard, the music I experienced (including the traditional along with the very unique Derry clubbing experience), and the poetic/artistic/creative spirit that is so alive in this place. And today, I feel a little heavyhearted about it all.

I took the train to Portrush, where I have met Jenae. It’s beautiful here, and clearly loyalist territory...which feels a bit off coming out of Derry. Union Jacks fly from every lamppost. Time for more pub research…

 Amie and Jenae in Portrush.

Union Jacks.

2:23 A.M. Thursday, June 22

2:23 A.M. Thursday, June 22

Today was the longest day of the year - and we packed a lot in. It was another day filled with theory and practice. We heard a case study on the transmission of violence in Sri Lanka, which experienced 30 years of war, and another on the impact of living inside the Northern Ireland conflict. We also had a fascinating presentation on the relationship between Memory, Trauma and Language...which got me thinking about all kinds of things that are too big to put on paper here. I can't believe tomorrow is the last day of this course. 


About 1/3 of the students are from Ireland, and I will be meeting with many of them 1-on-1 in the coming weeks. The others are from all over the planet, and while I knew I would be here to learn from the Irish experience, it has been an unexpected gift to connect with amazing people doing peacebuilding work around the world. Katherine Hoomlong (a peace educator from Nigeria) and I became buddies the first day, and it has been incredible to learn about her life negotiating present day armed conflict (there was a suicide bomb in her town this week) while at the same time teaching college students in a peace and conflict studies program. 

A fair amount of learning continues to happen outside of class as well (ok, at the pub) where I learn the less- academic version of what's happening in this part of the world. Barry and Jon, a Belfast boy and Englishman, respectively, have been especially instructive, and fun.

4:49 P.M. Wednesday, June 20

4:49 P.M. Wednesday, June 20

The last two days have been a bit mind blowing. I've been incredibly challenged both  academically/theoretically and in terms of peacebuilding practice. Yesterday we spent the morning talking about the ways in which master narratives - the stories in which we organize our lives - inform, create and maintain unjust/violent relationships. Dr. Stephen Ryan applied this concept to the intractable conflict in Cyprus, suggesting that successful transformation of relationships requires creating a new narrative that allows us to re-imagine our own identities and our relationships across group lines - something that has yet to happen in Cyprus, nor fully in Northern Ireland, nor perhaps in Montana, between our own indigenous and settler populations.

We also heard from Dr. Brandon Hamber, a South African who spent years as a mental health worker providing victim services alongside the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The Commission was a massive project which collected over 35,000 stories of political violence under apartheid, and also offered amnesty to those who came forward and publicly acknowledged their crimes. Dr. Hamber talked about the successes and limitations of that project in meeting community needs for justice, reparation, and healing. I wondered what (if any) value might reconciliation projects have in Montana? 

The formal day concluded with a lecture titled "Parades, Flags, and Memorials: Conflict and the Occupation of Public Space," which engaged us in thinking about the ways public spaces are used to support the dominant power structure (say, statues of political leaders) or disrupt the dominant power structure (like the Occupy Movements). I found myself thinking of sports arenas as public spaces and the debates we have in Montana about the use of Indian mascots for predominantly white teams...

And that was just yesterday! Thankfully, we ended in a pub with traditional music (and a dog) and I was given my first nickname - "bus stop" (a reference to the one hearing ear I have...better than the poor bloke who ended up with "tea-bag").

Dog in bar.

Bus stop.

10:52 P.M., Monday June 18

10:52 P.M., Monday June 18

What a group! There are 47 of us (for real) from 15 countries around the world, many of whom have been doing on-the-ground peace transformation work in places where there is contemporary violence. In my course there are people from Sri Lanka, Columbia, Wales, Nigeria, Kenya, France, Haiti, Ireland (North and South), and the U.S.

Today we dove into linguistic analysis, looking at how we use language not just to describe things, but to DO things, and how language in turn DOES things to us. The language used in times of conflict can be a source of healing or harming. It can empower or omit; it can legitimize violence or create possibilities for peace. In the context of violence, we explored how language shapes identity (who are the victims, who are the perpetrators), truth (what becomes known as history and fact), institutions (the name and content of our policies), and memory (what is remembered, and how it is memorialized). This work raises more questions than it answers. If truth is subjective, is it possible to create a language of consensus around what atrocities have happened? In what ways can memorializing violence bring healing? In what ways can it cause harm?

We continued the conversation in the pub, watching the Ireland:Italy match. Eighteen years ago today, while the same two teams were playing, six Irish men watching the game were gunned down in a pub by loyalists. Tonight, the Irish team wore black armbands in recognition of the killings. The act of memorialization was contested in our group, with some thinking it stirred up pain and trouble, and others thinking it appropriate.  I am learning tons.

5:28 P.M. Sunday, June 17

5:28 P.M. Sunday, June 17


Spent the day wandering Derry.


Stumbled into the Bogside, site of Bloody Sunday in January 1972 -when thirteen unarmed men and boys were killed by the British army - and much other conflict and loss. You can feel the sadness there. Here are some of the murals:

Also walked the walls- the Derry walls were built in the 1600's and remain intact today. Here's a view:

Tomorrow I start a week-long course with the International Conflict Research Institute, titled "Language, Truth, and Memory in Conflict." I settled into a cafe for a couple hours to do the reading we've been assigned for the first day...all about the legitimization of violence through discourse. I had to look up more words for tomorrow's reading than I did the entire last semester. Excited, and a little nervous. 


People are starting to arrive in my dorm...off to try and make friends.

4:33 P.M. Saturday, June 16

4:33 P.M. Saturday, June 16

It's very slow going travelling from Missoula to Ireland. Lauren dropped me at the airport at 4:45 AM Friday, and I was still at J.F.K. airport in New York at 9 P.M. Our flight was supposed to leave at 8:30 in the evening and arrive in Dublin the following morning. I had thought, "Great! Overnight flight -  I'll sleep on the plane." I had not taken note that the flight is only 6 hours, and between the dinner service and the beverage service and some hooting passengers (they were very excited to be going to Ireland) I didn't get much rest. I'm also on the back end of a cold, and ended up in a very painful sinus situation for most of the flight. I landed in Dublin, relieved to be in fresh air, and then promptly boarded a 4 hour bus to Derry. Though no longer battling air pressure, the sinus pain got worse, and I started to feel a migraine coming on...I couldn't bear to have my eyes open, but when they were closed I felt very nauseous (it turns out there really are a lot of round-a-bouts in Ireland). I started rethinking travel in general. I mean, really, Montana is stunning. And there is lots to do and learn and experience without having to be sleep deprived and suffering...and now discretely throwing up my failed efforts at hydration into my Bernice's coffee mug (thank god I packed that).

But then we arrived, and I stepped out into the rain and there was Brian of People's Taxi's and he took me to an ATM and to the campus and gave me a broken but functional umbrella and called me love. And then there was Tremaine, a German ex-Rugby player who helped me find a Resisdent Assistant; and Rachel the wonderful Resident Assistant; and now I have internet; and I'm back to thinking travelling is a perfect way to remember about the goodness in people everywhere.

Next stop, food.

11:04 PM Thursday, June 14

11:04 PM Thursday, June 14

Tomorrow morning I head to Ireland, North and South,  for 5 weeks visiting peacebuilding programs. After fourteen years leading prejudice reduction and violence prevention work through NCBI in Missoula, I'm thrilled to be on my way to seeing how these efforts are lived in other parts of the world.

I'm also nervous, and aware of being in the "unconsciously incompetent" stage of development. I know next to nothing about the causes and consequences on conflict in Northern Ireland. Last time I was in Portland I stopped by Powell's bookstore and picked up a copy of The History of Ireland, by James Lydon. The first 60 pages felt like 300, and I think I was still in the years B.C. I switched to The Idiot's Guide to Irish History (which is at least illustrated). I  found some YouTube documentaries about the troubles, but had to pause every few minutes to ask Lauren which acronym the narrator was talking about, and which side they were on. So maybe I'm consciously incompetent.

But I'm on my way!