Hope Amid the Rubble

“Trust had gone out of the land,” writes Irish novelist Edna O’Brien, “and brother no longer gasped at the bloodshed of brother.” For the past 25 years, since the “troubles” began in the North, sectarian killings bore bloody testimony to the truth of that verdict. Now, following months of secret negotiations, there appears a glimmer of hope that peace may not be far off.

Within weeks, perhaps days, the Irish Republican Army is expected to declare a cease-fire in its war to oust Britain from Northern Ireland and unite the troubled island. Depending on the duration and effectiveness of that armistice, Sinn Fein, the political wing of the I.R.A., could be included in peace talks planned by the British and Irish governments. Could the age that has seen the end of the cold war, democracy in South Africa and real progress toward peace in the Middle East also deliver a solution to the Irish problem?

Cynics who have seen I.R.A. cease-fires come and go will not bet on it — even if the desire for peace is as strong as it has ever been. Weary of the war and its drain on the exchequer, the British government would welcome the chance to bring its troops home from Northern Ireland, where the struggle in Ulster is increasingly viewed with a sense of distance and disgust, could do without the headache the confrontation presents. The majority of people in Northern Ireland itself, be they Roman Catholic or Protestant, would simply like to get on with their lives. Even the I.R.A., it seems, is beginning to have second thoughts about the likelihood of securing a united Ireland at the point of a gun. Says Martin McGuiness, Sinn Fein’s second in command and reputedly part of the the seven-member group that runs the I.R.A.: “This is a process that will lead to a settlement.”

The groundwork has been done. A joint Anglo-Irish initiative agreed upon last December provides that Britain and the Republic of Ireland renounce any territorial claims to Ulster and that some sort of self-government be instituted in its six counties. Whether Ulster would eventually merge with the Republic or remain separate would be left to a popular vote in the North sometime in the future. Judging by opinion polls, the North would probably remain separate for some time to come.

The precondition laid down by London for a Sinn Fein presence at the table is a renunciation of violence by the I.R.A. Official sources in London, Dublin and Washington believe that the top republican command, including Sinn Fein leader Gerry Adams, is ready to move away from the armed struggle for both personal and strategic reasons — even if some of the local commanders, mostly from rural districts in the North, remain unconvinced that it is time to lay down arms. As evidence of the I.R.A.’s change of heart, sources familiar with the insular and suspicious community of Catholic nationalists on Belfast’s Falls Road cite the fact that Sinn Fein has begun working the pubs to begin explaining the need for some sort of cease-fire.

In military terms the case for continuing armed struggle looks shaky at best. After 25 years of killing and general mayhem, the I.R.A. is far from military victory, and it must decide whether to capitalize on the clear political progress it has made in convincing Britain that it should pull out. Beyond that, it looks as if Sinn Fein’s leaders are losing their stomach for bloodshed. Most are well into middle age and have never known a normal life. “Maybe they want to save their own kids,” speculates a White House official. In his spare time, Adams has been writing fiction, and feelers have been put out to get him a visa to visit the U.S. later this year for a book tour. Public support for the I.R.A. in both the U.S. and Ireland has diminished as well, due largely to revulsion at the killing. U.S. government sources say contributions to the I.R.A. from sympathetic American citizens are down to a mere $200,000 annually from millions a few years ago.

London is more eager than ever before to find a solution. Peacekeeping and economic aid to Northern Ireland cost the treasury around $4.5 billion a year, and I.R.A. bombing campaigns in Britain proper have inflicted further billions in damages. Although dependent for votes in Parliament on an alliance with Ulster unionists, Prime Minister John Major’s embattled Tory government would almost certainly win wide popular support for a peace settlement. Not so long ago, Britain could not have imagined a united Ireland; now Sir Patrick Mayhew, the Secretary for Northern Ireland, phrases the government’s position more artfully: “We will never sign up to a conclusion that necessarily leads to a united Ireland.”

In years gone by, any suggestion that London might be willing to wash its hands of Ulster would have been met with cries of treason from Ulster loyalists. Today on both sides of the Catholic-Protestant divide, people are accepting the idea that they cannot live with the old dispensation. “This has been an intimate and personal war,” says Queens University’s Paul Bew, “and that kind of violence requires tremendous commitment.”

Still, in both communities there is a growing sense that the blood feud — and its cycle of violence — must be broken if anyone is to prosper. Across all segments of society, fatigue with bombs and death and British army checkpoints and patrols is providing momentum toward peace. Thanks in part to British efforts, an expanding Catholic middle class sees peace and stability as more important than union with the Republic. At the same time, as the lure of Europe erodes the hold of the Roman Catholic Church and the Republic gradually becomes more secular, it is emerging as a less frightening place for Ulster Protestants.

But what of the men of blood? Even if the I.R.A. is ready to renounce violence, Protestant extremists may not follow suit. For a long time loyalist violence came largely in reaction to I.R.A. terror, but in recent years Protestant extremists have notched up more killings than the I.R.A. Experts say that is a reaction to fear that London may abandon the Protestants. The positive side to such apprehension is that it may induce moderate loyalists to strike a deal now, while Protestants still account for 60% of Ulster’s population. “We hear two arguments from the I.R.A.,” cracks hard-line unionist leader Peter Robinson. “The first is ‘We will wear you down with violence.’ The second is ‘We will outbreed you.’ “

James Molyneaux, the moderate leader of the largest unionist party, thinks modest changes in governance — more control to Ulster citizens, for example, rather than direct rule from London — will isolate the radical fringe on both sides. He rests with British assurances that Ulster’s future will be decided democratically by its people and cites polls showing no more than 15% to 20% of the population favoring a united Ireland.

That leaves the I.R.A. It is not clear how deep the divisions are inside it and Sinn Fein, or whether a decision for peace would lead to a split or, perhaps, reprisals. “You and I have a meeting and disagree,” says Irish Foreign Minister Dick Spring. “We leave the room and go about our business. They disagree and then worry about who’s going to leave the room first.” If the I.R.A. can deliver a cease-fire and convince London and Dublin that it sees violence as a thing of the past, then Ireland may find itself united — not under one flag, but in the country’s desire for peace.