Northern Ireland's much-vaunted peace agreement is being put to a fiery test, but there are also encouraging signs that this latest crisis is different

By BARRY HILLENBRAND /DRUMCREE

hat ever happened to peace in Northern Ireland? Only three months ago, on Good Friday, British Prime Minister Tony Blair stood with Bertie Ahern, the Prime Minister of Ireland, and announced that the main political parties in Northern Ireland had reached an historic agreement designed to end the Troubles which had plagued the province for 30 years. In quick succession, a referendum and an election for a new Northern Ireland assembly demonstrated that more than 70% of the voters approved the agreement. A whiff of compromise was in the air. It seemed possible that Protestant unionists and Catholic nationalists might just learn to live together in peace.

But for the past two weeks, along a stretch of road in the lovely rolling countryside of county Armagh it looked as though Northern Ireland was back at war. Hundreds of riot police with shields and bullet-proof vests and backed up by units of the British Army in full battle dress were massed behind barbed wire barricades to prevent Protestant marchers of the Orange Order from parading through a Catholic community at Drumcree. During the day the atmosphere in the Protestant encampment was like a country fair, with parents buying burgers, drinks and souvenir flags for their kids as they watched army engineering units reinforce the barriers. At night, however, the crowds, swelled by loads of Orange Order members bussed in from all around Northern Ireland, would surge forward, testing the army's defenses and launching rockets made from fireworks and loaded with nails and ball bearings. Police fired back with plastic bullets and rushed in reinforcements by helicopter. David Trimble, newly elected First Minister of the Northern Ireland assembly, warned that the "prospects for Northern Ireland look very bleak."

Has everything gone terribly wrong in Northern Ireland? Not exactly. The peace process has hit a roadblock, but the essential political structure of the settlement put in place by the agreement still holds firm--and, in fact, it is helping in the resolution of the impasse. Trimble, a Protestant unionist, and Deputy First Minister Seamus Mallon, a Catholic nationalist, have been working together to resolve the crisis.

The standoff at Drumcree is certainly dangerous. All hell could break loose if the Protestant crowd breaches the barriers and threatens to overwhelm police lines, which are reinforced by the Parachute regiment. And fears of a return to the tit-for-tat violence that has dogged Northern Ireland for decades increased early Sunday morning with the firebombing of a Catholic house at Ballymoney, 40 km north of Belfast. Three brothers, Richard, Mark and Jason Quinn, aged 10, 9 and 7, died in their beds in the blaze. Said police chief inspector Terry Shevlin, "This is a sickening murder, naked hatred at its worst."

During the first few days of the standoff, gangs of Protestant thugs set fire to 10 Catholic churches over a wide area of the province, and in a few ugly, but isolated, incidents Protestant gangs attacked houses owned by Catholic families in isolated towns. Cars and buses were hijacked and set alight to disrupt traffic, meaning most people went home from work early and locked their doors. Buses and trains suspended late services. Downtown Belfast, which only a few weeks ago was abuzz with young people flocking to enjoy the city's lively night life, was nearly deserted by 7 p.m. Most restaurants closed early, and the only customers in the few which stayed open were police officers having a coffee.

But despite the protests around Drumcree, there is a difference to this latest flare-up. The gunmen and bombers who were regular features of previous crises have so far held back. Pubs have not been sprayed by gunfire. Taxi drivers have not been killed for venturing into the wrong neighborhoods.

This is no small achievement, and reflects the acceptance of the agreement by the mainline paramilitary organizations. The cease-fire declared by the Irish Republican Army is still in place and at week's end there had been no reprisals by the I.R.A. for attacks on Catholic areas. The Protestant paramilitary groups have also stuck to their cease-fire, although individual members of these units may have taken part in some of the early attacks on Catholic targets. Whether the deaths of the three Catholic boys in Ballymoney will bring the gunmen back into the fray is now the worry. Gerry Adams, president of Shinn Fein, the political wing of the I.R.A, called for restraint "on the part of all."

On Friday the British Isles also got a nasty reminder of just how quickly the merchants of fear can reassert their power to disrupt everyday life. While the I.R.A. and the main Protestant terrorist groups have stayed on the sidelines, danger still lurks from dissenting paramilitary groups which want the agreement to fail. Central London was paralyzed briefly during the evening rush hour as British police arrested six people associated with an I.R.A. splinter group just as they were in the process of planting incendiary bombs. Said Scotland Yard's deputy assistant commissioner John Grieve, "We believe these terrorist devices were intended to be used in London within minutes." One encouraging sign in the arrests is that the operation against republican terrorists was coordinated with the Irish police, who detained three more suspects in the Republic. In recent weeks police in both countries have made significant progress in foiling operations by these splinter groups.

As for the main standoff, no one is particularly surprised that trouble started in Drumcree. For the past four years it has been a flashpoint. In 1996, violence there spread across the province and was far greater than this year. At the heart of the present battles are two conflicting--and seemingly irreconcilable--rights. The Protestant Orange Order claims that it has a right to march along its traditional route, while Catholics argue that they have a right not to have unwelcome parades disturb their neigborhoods.

The Orange Order, modeled on masonic lodges, was founded in 1795 to defend Protestant succession to the throne in Britain. Since then, it has taken up the cause of supporting the union of Northern Ireland with Britain. Members, resolutely Protestant and often anti-Catholic, profess ferocious loyalty to the British crown and look on any attempt to increase links between Ulster and Catholic Dublin as treason. Each year in July, Orange Order lodges sponsor marches to commemorate the victory of the troops of Protestant William of Orange over the Catholic King James in the Battle of the Boyne in 1690. Many of the marchers wear orange sashes and bowler hats, and carry furled umbrellas. They march to drums and fifes.

As quaint as the marches appear to outsiders, their ritual is central to the lives of many Protestants in Northern Ireland. "The marches are part of my tradition and culture," says David Jones, a member of the Portadown District of the Orange Order, which sponsors the one through Drumcree. "I see no reason why we should not be free to pass down the Queen's highway through Drumcree as we have since 1807."

The problem is that in Drumcree part of the Queen's highway cuts through a Catholic housing development. This year the Parades Commission, a new, independent body set up to approve routes for the more than 2,000 marches held each year (only half a dozen are contentious), ruled that the parade by the Portadown lodge should bypass the Catholic section of Drumcree, and Blair sent in police and the army to uphold that decision.

There is no question that the Drumcree standoff was a disappointment to those who believed that the agreement reached on Good Friday and so overwhelmingly supported by the voters would somehow bring lasting calm to Northern Ireland. Blair said he would not allow those hopes for peace to be "hijacked by extremists." But while extremists may be responsible for tossing the firebombs and scuffling with the police, the nub of the problem is a conflict between two communities' opposed but sincerely-held views of their rights. Which is why it is still hard to tell whether Northern Ireland is marching toward peace or back to war.