Opinion

William Scholes: Bus stop bust-up another bump on the road to nowhere

William Scholes

William Scholes

William has worked at The Irish News since 2002. His areas of interest include religion and motoring.

The row about the naming of the Short Strand bus stop in Belfast shows how far we still have to travel on the road to a shared community. Picture by Matt Bohill
The row about the naming of the Short Strand bus stop in Belfast shows how far we still have to travel on the road to a shared community. Picture by Matt Bohill The row about the naming of the Short Strand bus stop in Belfast shows how far we still have to travel on the road to a shared community. Picture by Matt Bohill

TO my ears at least, distance lends a certain charm to the bagpipes; the further away I am from the source of the din, the easier it is to endure.

There are exceptions. I'm partial to the rather unlikely call and response between bagpipes and guitar on AC/DC's It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'n' Roll), for example.

As with the bagpipes, so it is with the vigorous inhaling and expelling of hot air that constitutes much of what passes for political discourse in Northern Ireland.

When it comes to summer holidays, one's own sanity, as well as family concord, should demand that you put as much distance as possible between yourself and the mitherings of our political representatives.

We ended up in Canada this year, but even numerous time zones and the Atlantic Ocean weren't enough to render the north's uniquely dispiriting political vocabulary completely inaudible, as word of a row about the name of a Belfast bus stop reached our ears.

Distance also lends perspective. We were in Toronto at the time, probably one of the world's most cosmopolitan cities, yet meanwhile in Belfast they were getting exercised about the name of a bus stop.

Even if you say it really slowly - "A. Row. About. The. Name. Of. A. Bus. Stop." - it is difficult to think of anything more ridiculous. And yet it also seems to perfectly capture the plight from which our politics needs rescued.

Behind it is the depressing thought that there is nothing in Northern Ireland that cannot be sectarianised in some way.

Needless to say, the whole thing took a bit of explaining to incredulous and bewildered Canadians.

Twitter's Emma Little-Pengelly, who is also the MP for South Belfast and widely regarded as the Emma Little-Pengelly of the DUP, brought the matter to public attention.

Being a DUP representative brings certain responsibilities to be a flag-bearer for flag-waving.

In this context, Ms Little-Pengelly's latest contribution can perhaps be viewed as a bold attempt to extend territory-marking from kerbs and lamp-posts to the hitherto innocuous arena of bus stops.

Her previous interventions in this area have been similarly open to parody.

This includes the claim last year that there was no demand among residents in a shared housing development in her constituency for the removal of UVF flags.

As a follow up this summer, she described as a "welcome unilateral move" a so-called 'flags protocol' in which the UVF said it would fly "only legal flags" - the same UVF that went on to cause havoc in east Belfast around bonfires. Perhaps we can expect a UVF 'bonfire protocol' next year...

But back to bus stops. My mind wandered from maple syrup and Canada in August 2018 back to dreary east Belfast in November 2003 and the 'bust-up at the bus stop', another of those uniquely puerile moments which punctuate Northern Ireland politics.

During the assembly election campaign, in a calculated act of provocation, the DUP launched a mobile billboard right outside the HQ of their bitter rivals in the UUP.

It had the desired reaction. David Trimble and a phalanx of senior Ulster Unionists swarmed from the building to confront the DUP invaders, led by Ian Paisley and Peter Robinson.

After around 10 minutes of barbed insults and trademark ye-hoing and guldering, the DUP boarded their battle bus and left the scene.

It turned out to be a seminal election. The DUP overtook the UUP as Northern Ireland's largest party, hastening the demise of Mr Trimble as Ulster Unionist leader, while on the nationalist side, Sinn Féin beat the SDLP.

Neither the UUP nor SDLP has since shown any sign of reclaiming a top spot.

That election set in train the events which eventually led to the St Andrews Agreement of 2006 and the DUP going into power-sharing with Sinn Féin in 2007.

It seems like a million years ago. Even allowing for the rose-tinted glasses of hindsight, there was much to be positive about then, not least the burgeoning friendship between Martin McGuinness and Mr Paisley.

That is not to ignore the manifest failings of almost 10 years of DUP-Sinn Féin administration, which culminated in its final implosion last year.

Victims and legacy issues are unresolved. Sectarianism remains a festering sore. The basic competence of government, as well as the effectiveness of assembly scrutiny, is highly questionable, as the RHI inquiry has spotlighted.

But who cares, as long as there are bus stops to argue about?