THE SPECTATOR
THATCHER'S IRISH FOLLY
0 ne of the complacent English myths about Northern Ireland is that the situation there is immensely complicated and unpre- dictable. (The myth arises from the all- embracing myth that the Irish are mad.) In fact, the central question — that of alle- giance — is simple, and the reactions of the two communities' to anything that affects that question are easy to predict. The Spectator, therefore, was not being brilliant when it said last autumn that there was no chance that Unionists would accept the Anglo-Irish Agreement, nor when it added that Unionist opposition, un- appeased, would lead to the breakdown of order in the province and the strengthening of extremism. All this was perfectly ob- vious except, it seems, to the entire British governing class and all but a handful of Members of Parliament. The Unionist objections to the Agreement, though sel- dom expiessed in a manner likely to Convince English opinion, were made legi- timately through all the usual channels of Parliamentary democracy. They were, of course, ignored. The Unionist MPs re- signed their seats, held by-elections in Protest at the Agreement, were duly (with one exception) re-elected, and duly (with no exception) ignored. At this point, the Politicians having done their best and failed, the argument took to the streets. First there were strikes, protest rallies and marches and a certain amount of disorder. Now there are loyalist attacks on police- men and their houses, discoveries of arms caches and talk of plots by 'a sinister hand'. Next, it is only reasonable to fear, police- men will be killed and disorder and civil disobedience will become almost universal. The Government will then be dragged into the running of every civil function. Com- missioners will have to run councils. Worse, the army will have to replace the police as the main security force in the province. We shall be back to the days of the early 1970s, when the phrase civil war was scarcely an exaggeration, and author- ity came close to breaking down altogether. All for a scrap of paper. The content of the Anglo-Irish Inter- governmental Conference is negligible. Although the Agreement states that the Conference's meetings should be 'regular and frequent', these words have been loosely interpreted, and such proceedings as have taken place have been unimpor- tant. The Unionists may therefore look foolish for their anxiety about something so trivial, but they are not half so ridiculous as the Government, which has risked so much for so little. Before the autumn, Northern Ireland was in a better condition (although hardly a good one) than it had known since the 1960s. Now it is plunged into despair and violence. A previously mainly law-abiding community is alien- ated. Nothing that has happened has seriously damaged the IRA, and the hope that the Agreement would produce a more conciliatory nationalist politics has not been fulfilled — Mr John Hume, indeed, is preaching confrontation with a new trium- phalism. Mrs Thatcher seems disposed to regard the growing crisis as a test of her strength. She compares it with the defeat of General Galtieri or Mr Scargill. In doing so, she ignores two crucial differences. First, both Galtieri and Scargill started out visibly in the wrong — Galtieri by invad- ing, Scargill by denying a ballot. Second, neither was able to command the consent of the people most closely involved. The Unionist position is quite different. The clear majority of people in Northern Ire- land do not want what Britain is offering them and will not consent to it, and it is simply impossible for the offer to work without their consent. Mrs Thatcher has forced the horse to the water but has not, of course, managed to make him drink. It is no good whipping him, shouting at him, telling all her friends how stubborn he is or threatening to put him down. She must find a means of leading him away with as much dignity as possible.
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