Joe Brolly - It is a different world Northern Ireland now
Joe Brolly wrote, June 27 2016:
“It is a different world up here now. My kids know nothing about the Troubles. A few of them went to the scouts when they were younger, sang God Save the Queen on the Queen’s birthday and came home proudly holding aloft crayon drawings of the bejewelled heiress. The boys’ great-grandfathers would have turned in their graves.
Sectarian assaults used to be a daily occurrence in Belfast. They have all but disappeared. I am a criminal barrister and cannot recall the last time one of those came before the courts. The Shankill Butchers killed countless Catholics, cutting them to pieces with meat cleavers and knives. The only butchers up there nowadays sell a bag of sausages and minute steaks for a fiver.
Last week, DUP First Minister Arlene Foster tweeted, ‘Well done Republic of Ireland. My goodness what a result!’ When Arlene was a child, her father, a farmer and part-time RUC man, was unbelievably lucky to survive an assassination attempt by the IRA. In an interview with The Sunday Tribune in 2005, Arlene said, “They shot him in the head as he was closing in the cattle. He came crawling into the house, blood streaming down his face. We couldn’t stay in Roslea anymore. I had to move house and school — it was very traumatic.”
The same day as Arlene’s tweet, her deputy, Martin McGuinness, tweeted: ‘En route to France, two big games coming up for Martin and Michael O’Neill’s teams. Hoping both can advance in Euro 2016. Wishing them both well.’ Martin told me on Thursday night that when he had arrived at Dublin Airport to get his flight to the games, he was besieged by Northern Ireland fans who queued up for selfies. Martin sat in the stand for the Northern Ireland-Germany game, beaming. Twenty years ago he would have been tarred and feathered for such treachery. Now, nobody gives a damn.
Throughout the Euros, which should have been declared a public holiday North and South, the two sets of fans have gathered at the Fanzone in the Titanic for the games, filling it to its 10,000 capacity. There hasn’t been the slightest bit of bother. Not a “black bastard” or a “Fuck the Pope”. Not a bottle or a punch thrown. Only thrills, laughs, drink, and the Will Grigg song. You may not be aware of this, but apparently he’s on fire. In training...”