Now It's Ulster's Turn
Spillane, Margaret, The Nation
On October 22 Gerry Adams stood in Belfast's historic Conway Mill before a multigenerational audience of Belfast nationalists to confirm a rumor that had been circulating in the city for weeks: that the Irish Republican Army had begun the process of putting "beyond use" its store of handguns, automatic weapons, rocket launchers and explosives under the eye of an independent international body headed by Canada's Gen. John de Chastelain. September 11 accelerated a process that was already under way: On August 6 de Chastelain's commission reported that the IRA had already agreed to an arms-disposal arrangement. Conway Mill casts its shadow over a vanished neighborhood of little homes, burnt to the ground in 1969 by rioting police and Protestant terrorists who killed seven people and displaced thousands of families. Adams's speech had not a trace of eye-for-an-eye ideology: It simply embraced anew the straightforward demands that more than three decades ago launched the Irish Civil Rights Movement: a new policing structure, demilitarization and an equality agenda. By not uttering one word about a united Ireland, Adams made his speech into an open hand, extended toward a deeply divided unionist community. Laurence McKeown, a republican who back in 1981 almost perished on a seventy-day hunger strike, called Adams's gesture "startlingly generous, morally courageous."
McKeown's remarks were in no way political backscratching: Adams took a huge risk by talking disarmament in the midst of a two-month loyalist terror campaign against Catholics in North Belfast. When the C Company of the Ulster Freedom Fighters recently joined forces with members of their longtime loyalist rivals, the Loyalist Volunteer Force, it wasn't to go mano a mano with the Irish Republican Army. It was to lob pipe bombs at a group of little girls--some as young as 4--who were trying to attend Holy Cross Catholic School in the Ardoyne area. Since the beginning of September, these terrified children have had to run a gantlet of some 200 adults, who spit and throw bricks and pipe bombs while chanting: "Fenian sluts!" and "No school today, ya wee whores!" All summer long, the IRA hewed to its pledge to keep the gun out of Irish politics despite the loyalist paramilitary Red Hand Defenders' random slaying of two young Catholic men in Armagh and Antrim; the huge, fully primed bomb the RHD left in the crowded seaside town of Ballycastle; and the bomb that was discovered in the office of the North's Education Minister, Martin McGuinness of Sinn Fein. …