Even in Death Do Us Stay Apart

Within Belfast City Cemetery there is an underground wall that purposefully separates the Catholic and Protestant dead. In recent times the disputes that have taken place at Carnmoney Cemetery, on the outskirts of Belfast, over demarcating the graves of Protestants and Catholics seem to confirm that even in death there is a desire to remain uncontaminated by the presence of the ethno-sectarian 'other'.

The perpetuation of ethno-sectarian conflict, within Northern Ireland and elsewhere, reminds us that despite the onset of globalisation, cultural homogenisation and mass consumption the links between ethno-sectarianism and residential separation remain central to the logic and explanation of violent enactment and cultural polarisation. The potential of localised, nationalist and anti-pluralist doctrines to determine the reproduction of residential segregation, via particularistic discourses that are constructed around history, politics and culture, remains ever-present (Ackleson, 2000; Agnew, 1993; Bauman, 2004; Delaney, 2005; Newman, 1999).

The problem, when it comes to developing processes of conflict transformation and the development of a shared city, is that local knowledge and experience shape the nature of identity and dilute the ability to present practices that would be capable of shifting the relationship between segregation and political belief (Ashley, 1987; Brenner, 1999; Cohen, 1985). Segregation creates territorial disputes that encourage the development, sustenance and capacity of intercommunal separation and alternative political commitment (Barth, 1969; Ley, 1994; Paasi, 2000). It also presents a medium through which the logic of creating a more settled city is somewhat undermined by the existence and practices of the ethno-sectarian 'other' and/or the state. Identity issues are thus embodied within the definition of place (Lefebvre, 1991; Sibley, 1995; P. Taylor, 1994; R. Taylor, 1988). As Borja and Castells write: 'The creation and development in our societies of systems of meaning increasingly arise around identities, expressed in fundamental terms. Identities that are national, territorial, regional, ethnic, religious, sex-based, and finally personal identities – the self as the irreducible identity' (1997: 13). Theorists of various forms of segregation are increasingly, and correctly, concerned with the interpretative nature of urbanism and discursive practices. Harvey (2000), Imrie (2004) and Marcusse (1993) in particular have highlighted the need to ground 'lived experiences' in order to understand the subjective interconnections and emotional forces that drive the urban 'moralities' of segregation. Thus, the need remains, for those who study segregation, to locate the structural relations of power, displacement and conflict, which determine how spaces are both (re)constructed and contested (Wasserstein, 2001). This ultimately means determining the mediums through which Belfast's residents transform daily occurrences and emotions into a symbolic system of territorial attachment (Giddens, 1991; Gottman, 1973; Ley, 1994). These constantly negotiated and contested social and spatial practices matter in that they are interpreted and given significance by their participants (Shirlow, 2003a, 2003b), in what Jackson (1989) refers to as the capacity of social groups to develop distinct patterns of life.

Within the Belfast context the desire to locate the 'self' within a social, cultural and political group, via a combination of imaginings and experience, is attached to what Sibley (1995) identifies as a process of 'cultural production' and the formation of boundaries between the 'chosen' and the 'rejected'. Identity construction is generally based upon relational concepts as opposed to objectivity, introspection and rationalism (Mandaville, 1999; Sack, 2003). In terms of space, the formation of social, cultural and political beliefs crosses spatial scales including residential segregation, schooling, leisure, sport, consumption, socialising and the workplace. As the information presented within this book indicates, a central goal in the exploration of segregation is to determine not only the nature of contact between spatially separate populations but to also designate how ideas, beliefs and behaviours are reinforced by their social milieu (Dumper, 1996; Killias and Clerici, 2000).

There is no doubt that the casting of Belfast as a 'normalising' place sits in stark contrast to the realities of ethno-sectarian separation, multiple forms of segregation and the reproduction of violent acts and cultural opposition. The capability of localised and sectarian doctrines to reproduce residential segregation remains linked to the presentation of competing ideologies that are influenced by discourses of 'truth', mistrust and intercommunity misunderstanding (Maguire and Shirlow, 2004; Shirlow, 2003a; Shirlow and Murtagh, 2004).

SPATIAL BORDERING

The ever-present conflict within Northern Ireland is not based upon religion but rather religion acts as a boundary marker with regard to competing aspirations regarding forms of Britishness and Irishness. As Jenkins concludes: 'Although religion has a place in the repertoire of conflict in Northern Ireland, it is apparent that, for the majority of participants, the situation is seen to be primarily concerned with matters of politics and nationalism, not religious issues' (1986: 16). The border between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland remains as the key, symbolically defined feature of cultural and political discord (Anderson and O'Dowd, 1999; Wilson and Donnan, 1998). The constitutional border is replicated within cities, towns and villages throughout Northern Ireland. Conflict and its reproduction, at the micro level, are linked to the symbolisation of a constitutionally divided island.

In Belfast, unlike most divided cities in the European Union, the most acute and perceived spatial divisions are not simply those of class or race but those of national identity. For republicans and Irish nationalists, the reproduction of segregation is tied to a series of acts and discourses within which the British state and hegemonic unionism organised space in order to control ideologies of resistance and the praxis of dissidence by 'disloyal' citizens. The ability to express Irishness through the removal of the prohibition on hosting the Irish national flag in the wake of the Anglo-Irish Agreement (1985) and the pursuit of Irishness through language, dance and theatre, within republican/nationalist places, have been linked to a desire to alter the symbolic nature of space.

Identity formation has not been free-flowing but tied to distinct practices of seeking a form of Irishness that has been denied, rejected or forgotten. The repossession of Irish symbols is not a benign process of reclaiming but a defiant act of community-based veneration and a challenge to other symbols and political codes. For loyalists and unionists the state is seen as insufficient and culpable in the rise of Irish republicanism, and as a result the maintenance of 'Protestant' places is tied to a singular preservation of nationhood and the 'British' way of life. Demographic decline within the Protestant community has also created an enduring sense of decline and ideological and cultural defeat. These two main ethno-sectarian blocs have over the past 30 years drifted apart owing to violence and ideological intent. As a result of the separation – a process that Gellner (1986) understood as being centred upon differences becoming so crucial that they became reflected in people's emotional attitudes – we are left with a city burdened by atavism and institutionalised identities.

The ethno-sectarian problems that exist are not simply based upon distinguishing forms of national identification and their organisation within space. Nor is it the case that spatial distinctiveness exists precisely because political beliefs do not complement each other. A central reason why spatial disunity exists instead of a more pluralist and reasoned sharing of space is that the nationalist/republican community is engaged in a form of political ascendancy while the unionist/loyalist community struggles to maintain unity, purpose and spatial well-being.

Each community that resides along an interface between oppositional spaces lives with the fear of attack. However, many predominantly unionist/loyalist places are burdened by demographic decline. This latter reality creates unambiguous fears concerning wider sectarianised notions of territorial dissolution within the unionist/ loyalist community. The twin processes of renewal and decline that define division in Belfast are part of a complex set of issues that reasserts the power and authority of segregation. In sum, segregation exists because new reasons for the existence of such separation, such as the fear of territorial loss and the contestation over parading, are found and acted upon. Segregation, in Belfast, is not based upon an ethno-sectarian standstill or merely the maintenance of frontiers but upon the need to re-deliver the meaning of separated living through novel, as well as rehearsed, narratives of inclusion, practice and belief.

The issue that affects both communities is not merely that the border exists but that the survival of the border is challenged. The shift from a relatively secure unionism and its associated cultural practices to a position within which republicans and Irish nationalists continually gain demographic, cultural and political power has encouraged a sense of fatalism that is reproduced via atavistic attitudes within sections of the unionist community. For republicans and nationalists, their sense of social marginalisation, unionist 'triumphalism' and the 'objectionable' attitude that unionists have regarding their civic inclusion testify to an irreformable disposition within that community. In sum, and despite the 'peace process' and the sometime delivery of devolution, the desire to hunker down behind essentialist notions of Britishness and Irishness and related forms of ethnic chauvinism remains ever-present.

Segregation is one of many manifestations of disagreement and a failure to create a version of Northern Ireland that is acceptable to the inhabitants of that place. The continual reproduction of violence between segregated places and the recent building of new interfaces testify to the strength of segregation in constantly shaping politics within Northern Ireland. The significance of segregation was clearly stated by Darby:

Just as one cannot hope to understand the Northern Ireland conflict without an acquaintance with its history, it is impossible to appreciate its pervasiveness without some knowledge of the background, extent and effect of residential segregation between Catholics and Protestants. This is both the cause and consequence of the province's history of turbulence. (1976: 25)

Segregation has had the effect, via spatial bordering, of creating containers within which many residents have, in the main, come to accept a unidimensional cultural and political definition. These are also places from within which communities can articulate and emphasise the issues of discrimination, inequality and the denial of their human rights. Furthermore, segregation has been linked to the presentation and enactment of violence. However, a central issue is that segregation and the related control of territory create approval and justification for separation. Segregation provides the ability to invest faith within place and to acquire cultural companionship. In effect, it creates a sense of homeliness within which residents imagine themselves to be at one with their neighbours and community. Discourses of shared values, self-worth and identity within segregated spaces are crucial determinants in the perpetual dilution of a shared common ground within Northern Irish society.

In crude terms segregation exists because it works. The perpetuation of segregation is based upon a process of operationalising the difference between republican/nationalist and unionist/loyalist spaces. This is achieved through casting segregated places as more homogeneous in social and political terms than they actually are. Loyalty to place unites the atheist with the godly, the leftist with the right-winger and the male with the female. It has the capacity to disguise differences through achieving a sense of value and attachment to a struggle over the maintenance of places that must remain unique. Belfast remains not as a city but as an assemblage of 'villages' within which detachment from other places is crucial in terms of identity formation. The political divisions that constitute conflict within Northern Ireland could not achieve such a form of representation without segregation and the controlling effect that separation has upon 'lived' experience.

There is no defined or long-term political desire to deconstruct the reality, nature and reproduction of segregated living beyond the ultimately depressing belief that benign forms of segregation will suffice. It is evident that the presence of segregation, even within a less violent disposition, militates against the delivery of long-term political, social or cultural stability. This has been proven throughout the last decade of 'peace-building' by the events that surrounded the Holy Cross dispute, Drumcree and the political fall-out following the Northern Bank robbery. The reproduction of such political atavism is linked to the capacity of segregation to deliver meaning to what are substantial but alternative political mandates.

Segregated communities are places that have been engineered, fabricated and managed by political entrepreneurs seeking to mobilise political discourse through territorial control. Such places can be described as 'sites of resistance' that have emerged where cultural, economic and political differences have interlocked in order to produce fractal spaces that are characterised by concentrations of loyalty to place. As Heikkila argues, this conception of space represents the key challenge to those wishing to deconstruct the power of cultural opposition: 'Space matters because it mediates the experiences of people in places, and further, it shapes the structure of the opportunity set available to them' (2001: 266). In analysing the impact and effect of segregation and of bordering between communities, it is asserted that the type of radical political adjustment needed to positively alter the nature of ethno-sectarian practice remains underdeveloped. It is argued that given the nature of residential segregation and the impact that it has upon spatial mobility the capacity for 'normalised' social relations remains, in the short- to medium-term, unlikely.

SPACE (REALLY MATTERS)

All phenomena are temporal, and without doubt conflict within Northern Ireland is infused with history, but the playing out of conflict has also happened in space and therefore conflict also has a series of geographical dimensions. In terms of academic deliberation there has been insignificant attention given to geographical analysis and the exploration of conflict has undervalued the importance of obvious spatial relationships. Segregation is one of Northern Ireland's strongest spatial determinants, representing the limit of political, cultural and social confinement, and the capacity to displace the development of alternative notions of political belonging and belief. Segregation is not merely an inherited structure that undermines a new political dispensation. Rather it is a form of spatial practice that is constantly reproduced as a 'proven' system that encourages struggles over urban and rural spaces. Such spaces are both physical (built environment) and symbolic (prejudice and fear), as well as a combination of personal space and community experience.

Boal (1969, 1976, 2000) conceptualised responses to conditions of ethnic–religious segregation and cultural decline in terms of a continuum of 'loyalty, voice and exit'. Members of communities who feel isolated or threatened may remain loyal to the area in which they live and try to exist in as secure a position as possible. They may voice their concerns in a number of ways, such as campaigning or demonstrating or even through violence. Others choose to exit and simply leave the locality and seek sanctuary within their own ethno-sectarian group. Historically within Belfast, both responses can be identified. The latter trend has generally been understood to be due, in the main, to the outmigration of Protestants from the city. The catalyst for such outmigration was usually de-industrialisation, increased violence and a subsequent de-territorialisation of spatially vulnerable populations. Conversely, the maintenance of small Protestant and Catholic enclaves, especially Suffolk and Short Strand, points to a form of spatial loyalty and perseverance.