Sight of journey to come explained lack of euphoria The sweet magic of the Belfast Agreement was lacking, but it was history in the making for all that, reports Frank Millar
From IRISH TIMES November 30th, 1999
They made history again last night. For sure, there was none of the sweet
magical sensation which greeted the Belfast Agreement in the sleep-starved
early morning hours of Good Friday, 19 months ago. The road from there to
here had been long and hard, the process more akin to trench warfare than
peace-making. And the knowledge of the journey still to come made understandable
enough the lack of euphoria, the lack, almost, of any sense of occasion.
But it was history in the making for all that. The Democratic Unionists
gave early reminder of their mastery of the procedural wrangle. They would
not be complicit in what Peter Robinson termed the "chicanery" of the device
to reinstate Seamus Mallon as Deputy First Minister designate without the
need for an election as prescribed by the original rules. Hoping, perhaps,
to tempt Mr Mallon, the DUP deputy leader taunted him as a putative "minister for loopholes" even "a minister by the back door." Mr Mallon quietly endured.
As did the Ulster Unionists, when Mr Robert McCartney explained the reason
for the invitation to Mr Mallon to resume his post as "cover for the unelectable - because Mr Trimble today was unelectable." And there were some heads hanging
low and eyes not met a while later, when the DUP insisted on literally standing
up to be counted in support of their motion to exclude Sinn Féin from office
- and disdainfully inviting Mr Trimble's dissident colleagues to join them.
None did. In the immediate aftermath of Saturday's Ulster Unionist Council
decision it had become clear that none of Mr Trimble's antis would be providing
the necessary 30th signature with which Dr Paisley and Mr Robinson might
torment their leader. "Why would I," demanded one, "sign their motion and sit back while they kick us all over the place, only then to watch Peter Robinson and Nigel Dodds walk into the Executive?" The shadow of decommissioning
hung over the proceedings. Which perhaps explained a certain reticence on
Mr Adams's part when he described the Mitchell review as "a watershed opportunity."
The Sinn Fein president allowed himself some optimism, but it was tinged
with caution. "The rejectionists have until now had their day," he declared,
"But the beginning of the end of all that can come here." Monica McWilliams
was more determinedly upbeat. Having heard Cedric Wilson's rallying cry
for the "David and Goliath" struggle against this "betrayal", the Women's
Coalition leader expressed the hope that "the politics of self-righteousness, when God is all on your side, is coming to an end." For Seamus Mallon this
"landmark day" did mark the end: the end of a 30-year battle by him, and
his party, to bring powersharing about. Seated beside him his party leader,
Mr John Hume - recovering from illness and watched from the gallery by his
wife Pat - can only have savoured the moment when his dream became reality.
And as the reality struck home, in an instant hesitation was gone, doubt
dispelled. Those watching knew it. For all that they had been here before.
For all the natural distrust of rhetoric, and the certainty of the uncertainty
ahead. This was history. For how else to describe the moment, just before
the clock struck 6p.m., when Mr Adams nominated Mr Martin McGuinness to
be Northern Ireland's new Minister of Education? The Initial Presiding Officer,
Lord Alderdice (not yet confirmed in his post), seemed to go on at interminable
length describing the operation of the D'Hondt procedure. At 5.38p.m. we
were ready for the main event. But, true to form, Dr Paisley raised a (mercifully
brief) point of order. At 5.41p.m. Mr Trimble nominated Sir Reg Empey to
the top post in charge of Enterprise, Trade and Investment. Mr Hume quickly
followed, nominating Mark Durkan for Finance and Personnel. Dr Paisley had
the chance actually to take Education, but Mr Robinson's choice was for
Regional Development. Yet it was only when Mr McGuinness claimed his prize
that the ambition of this endeavour - the construction of this extraordinary
coalition - really sank in. It was too much for Mr Wilson, the leader of
the Northern Ireland Unionist Party. "I can't sit through this obscenity,"
he declared with feeling; "I'm leaving." Mr McCartney sat with his head
in his hands, his face a tale of deep, bitter distaste. The sole UKUP member
would have liked nothing better than to have stormed out, taking the bulk
of outraged unionism with him, never to return. Nor would he have found
much comfort in the assertions of Mr Robinson, and later Mr Dodds, that
they were accepting nomination to office in order to "frustrate and thwart Northern Ireland being conveyed into a united Ireland." Mr McCartney knows
about ground conceded never to be recovered. Of course, there might yet
be a turning back. |
