A generation facing its middle years leads the break away from past hatreds

By ROY FOSTER

ast week I met a septuagenarian and high-principled Irish republican who has long opposed the Provisional I.R.A.'s campaign and who hoped devoutly for a yes vote. We discussed the threat from breakaway irreconcilables such as the "True I.R.A." or the "Continuity Army Council." Vehemently disapproving, he revealed the real inspiration behind the latter group: "The only people who want to see the conflict prolonged--British Intelligence." Momentarily dumbfounded, I asked for the evidence, and he produced his clinching argument: "No Irish-speaker would choose a movement with those initials." "CAC," it should be added, is the Irish for "crap."

For those determined not to change their minds, one rationalization is as good as another. The agreement thrashed out between the S.D.L.P., Sinn Fein, unionist parties and the governments of Great Britain and the Republic of Ireland may have some way to go in altering hearts and minds. But a sea change is happening in entrenched attitudes north and south, and--for all the cliffhanging--Friday's referendums indicate as much. Northern Ireland has had to face up to a devolved, power-sharing government, where nationalist input is guaranteed, probably in the shape of Sinn Fein figures traditionally seen by their opponents as terrorists. Also on offer is an institutionalized connection with the Republic, whose irredentist claims on "their" territory have been denounced by unionists for three-quarters of a century.

This may seem a lot for the entrenched majority in Northern Ireland to swallow: when Jeffrey Donaldson, the most prominent young member of David Trimble's party, refused to accept the agreement because of the deaths his family and friends had suffered at the hands of those now lauded on republican platforms, he spoke for many. But it should be remembered that last Easter, the resistance was expected to come from the other side. How could Sinn Fein accept that the six-county unit would continue, governed from within; while to the south, the Republic would give up its traditional claim on Northern Ireland in favour of a demurely-expressed aspiration? For Gerry Adams to agree to sell this to his hard-line I.R.A. allies was surprising enough; the number of hard-liners agreeing was astonishing.

When do people decide to change their minds? To one who has watched the whole sorry business since his own radical student days in the 1960s, the key word might seem to be "generation." Those still imprisoned in the old molds are often (like my republican friend or Ian Paisley) over 70; alternatively (like Donaldson, or the Young Turks of the "True I.R.A.") they are young enough to believe in paying the interminable price for adhering to abstractions and absolutes. Those who have shown flexibility--Gerry Adams, Martin McGuinness, David Trimble, Mo Mowlam, Bertie Ahern, Tony Blair--span a wide range of political beliefs: but significantly, they are all in their mid to late 40s. "Blooded" in the 1960s, they have been activists for a generation, and are confronting their 50s, with teenage children of their own. Several have moved from student barricades to the corridors of power, arriving there in an era which is supposed to see the end of ideology. It is hard to think of any other moment during the last 30 years when the zeitgeist was as propitious for a change of mind in Ireland--north and south.

Changes have duly been endorsed by the most unlikely people. The trouble is that the necessary pill-sugaring has been very hard to swallow: I.R.A. gangs who have brutally bombed civilians and sprayed London with bullets are temporarily let out of prison to be emotionally greeted by Sinn Fein as "our Nelson Mandelas." The sectarian killer who shot up an I.R.A. funeral is similarly released to delirious reception at a loyalist rally. But this is what makes the public testimony of those prepared to forget, if not forgive, all the more astonishing. Four victims of violence recently went to Northern Ireland to argue for the agreement. They were not public figures; they had lived quietly until their lives had been randomly wrecked by murder and assassination. Yet all spoke eloquently and decisively about the need for a change of heart, and the acceptance of structures to remove the festering sense of atavistic antagonism which has sustained 30 years of violence and thousands of senseless deaths.

Has the critical majority been reached whereby those prepared to look ahead outweigh those with a vested interest in not changing their minds? The referendum result in Northern Ireland indicates that it is on the way, if not absolutely achieved. Yet the proposals were a triumph of subtlety and ingenuity on the part of those who drafted them, and they represent a powerful consensus in Britain and the Republic. Their acceptance by people on the ground, on both sides, who have suffered, fought and adopted impossibilist stances, is the real breakthrough. If this can marginalize both Neanderthal nationalism and no-surrender unionism, swallowing the inevitable sugar--or fudge--should be seen as a small price to pay. The alternative is the continuing delusion of demonized mirror-images, where an ancient enemy lurks behind every shadow, and CAC equals MI6.

Roy Foster is Carroll Professor of Irish History at Oxford University and author of Modern Ireland 1600-1972