It
was a bright enough day, thankfully. The rain
stayed away until late in the evening. Making
the effort to vote in wet weather is never a nice
business. Nevertheless, I would not let it put
me off if for no other reason than recalling many
years ago having felt mortified for the then English
Liberal Party MP, Clement Freud. Tying to explain
away a poor showing on polling day by his party
he made the ridiculous case that Liberal voters
more than others did not like the rain. His interviewer
scorned him, deservedly so. Whenever the skies
open on election day, I still think of Clement
Freud. If I have a reason not to vote, it is never
because of the weather.
Early
in the day a local republican stopped at our house
and began to shout that I had been right all along,
republicans had been sold out. Which was never
exactly my position, it being a bit more nuanced
than that. But such was his need to say something
and be heard saying it that I opted not to go
into the finer detail of what I had been publicly
and privately articulating for more than a decade.
After fulminating for a minute or two he laughed
and shouted something about the thought police
getting on to him. If he was concerned he was
not giving it away.
It
was ironic. Last time we had people bawling outside
the front door, they came in a mob. They were
not to know it then, but we did, that only a matter
of years would elapse before they would be giving
their support to the renamed RUC. True, supporting
the cops was some time off but decommissioning
was only a year away and they still believed that
would never happen either. Some still think it
hasn't. Politically limited, they had neither
foresight nor intuition. Now they don't even have
republicanism.
For
years we have used the polling booth in St Aidan's
school at the top of the Whiterock Road. Voting
was more convenient when the station was situated
in BIFHE just around the corner; no uphill walk.
It was the first time my wife, who is a US citizen,
was eligible to vote and she was determined to
make use of it. We made our way very leisurely
up the road accompanied by our son in his pram.
At the station stood a group of PSNI supporters
seeking votes for their preferred party, Sinn
Fein. More of those gripped by the strange notion
that support for Orde and Paisley will somehow
take them to a united Ireland congregated around
a caravan on the opposite side of the road.
Only
a few years ago, standing alongside today's PSNI
supporters seeking votes for Sinn Fein were men
from this area who now languish in Maghaberry
Prison, arrested by the British police force in
Belfast city centre. Not knowing how to do irony,
it all failed to impact on today's PSNI supporters
as they stood asking for votes for the party that
called for their current colleagues and erstwhile
canvassers to make themselves available for imprisonment
in Maghaberry.
Included
in the canvassing crew were some who had been
in prison with me on charges relating to the attacks
on British police officers. Now they were seeking
to enlist our support for British police officers.
Their arrival at this destination summed up the
bizarre odyssey made by Provisional republicanism,
at the end of which it celebrates its own defeat.
At
the gates of the polling station a PSNI supporter
offered us a sample ballot. My wife would have
none of it. I took it. There were five names on
it and the voter was instructed what preference
to give to each. All West Belfast nationalists,
there was little any of them have said in recent
years that would mark them out as promoting a
republican agenda. On the contrary, in a little
vignette that captured Sinn Fein's acquiescence
in the sectarian Zeitgeist currently animating
the political spirit of Northern politics, one
of the candidates two days previous had been publicly
promoting Glasgow Celtic in the main nationalist
daily as a means to catch the vote. Little point
in using the sample ballot as a guide. It would
go into the blue bin that they now provide us
with in the West for recycling rubbish.
In
the privacy of the voting booth I gave the first
preference to the only republican standing in
West Belfast, Geraldine Taylor. She is a member
of Republican Sinn Fein, a party I do not support.
Because of his politics and the issues raised
in his campaign, my preferred candidate was Sean
Mitchell who I ensured got a high preference.
But at this juncture I decided to cast my first
preference through Geraldine Taylor against the
entrenchment and legitimisation of MI5 and the
British Police Service of Northern Ireland. After
so many decades immersed in some strand of republicanism
it seemed profane to let its abject capitulation
pass by casting anything less than number one
in disapproval. Not that it will make any difference
to the result. The sense that it was ultimately
a futile act, a statement of amen, was overpowering.
Sinn Fein will certainly take four seats in West
Belfast and as a unionist friend commented a fortnight
ago it would be a brave punter who would rule
the party out for a fifth at the expense of Diane
Dodds.
Our
ballot papers deposited, we left the school. Vote
cast or wasted, I wasn't sure. Either way it was
academic; one of those things that had to be done,
like a mark of respect for something that had
long since been laid to rest. Those who want the
theocratic Paisley to lead them and the British
PSNI to police them were still standing outside.
Paisleyites and Peelers, always understandable
for Ballymena but up until a while ago unbelievable
for Ballymurphy.
