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Being
a firm believer in the right not to vote, it is always
worrisome to hear the argument that voting should
be made compulsory. As if an expression of our contempt
for the politicians by staying at home is insufficient
for them to understand. Mandatory attendance at polling
stations on election day would serve as a woefully
innacurate barometer of what the electorate thinks.
Our real preferences would not be established, while
the politicians could pretend that support for them
is much higher than it actually is. This, however,
did not stop some suggesting that we be shunted off
to the polls as a matter of legal obligation in the
wake of last week's poor assembly election turn out.
Last
Wednesday I did come out - of my own volition. Although
there was little incentive to do so. Republicans were
seeking election but the continuum they ranged along
took them from Eoin O' Duffy to Sean MacBride style
politics. None vaguely resembled anything James Connolly
or Peadar O'Donnell stood for. In fact they didn't
even resemble themselves from 10 years ago. But there
is always the suspicion that, despite more stringent
procedures, the vote may be stolen if you don't turn
up. A friend used to wind me up that I have voted
in every election in South Belfast since 1993. But
I have no recollection of having ever been inside
a polling booth in that constituency. At 6.55 in the
morning I half regretted my decision as I trudged
over Ballymurphy's cold dark pavements to the polling
station. Quite often I am up at that time with my
daughter, but not on the streets. Regrettably, time
constraints permitted no other choice that morning.
The 8 o'clock bus to Derry was my target if I was
to arrive in time to hook up with Dolours Price and
keep her company outside the city's polling stations
as part of Socialist Environmentalist Alliance's effort
to persuade people to vote for the only socialist
on the ticket, Eamonn McCann.
Our
local polling station in this part of West Belfast
was at St Aidan's School. I arrived at the wrong side
of it, turned back and was guided to the proper entrance
by a Sinn Fein member who looked as cold as I did.
He handed me the Sinn Fein order of preference slip
and politely asked, 'do you know the voting order?'
I smiled, but made no comment, before making my way
into the school, glancing over his hand-out as soon
as I reached a spot where light was more generous
in its dispersal. There was no one listed getting
this vote, I had never voted for any of them before,
there was even less reason to do so now. Out of the
five, I might have chosen two were circumstances different
- Micky Ferguson and Fra McCann.
Quite
often hanging around polling stations are the types
who always managed to find a niche for themselves
in the IRA's 'don't go to jail squads'; those who
favoured the strategy of a ballot box in one hand
and an armalite in somebody elses. So it was a pleasant
surprise to glance to the back of the hall and see
two real republicans in it, both of whom I had been
through the jails with. That they still support Sinn
Fein and work for the party is neither here nor there.
Few can question their commitment or genuine belief
in the strategy for which they put in the hours to
secure support.
Having
completed my task, I was off to Derry where on the
bus up my mind melted into a book about ETA and GAL.
I had started reading it in Cambridge in September
with a view to getting it out of the way, needing
to clear the decks for reading one by Sinn Fein councillor
Eoin O Broin on roughly the same topic. Solitary confinement
alone is the one place where time comes in outsize
quantities and is as welcome as more water in a flood.
The jail management deprives you of books to ensure
that you are aware of the invasiveness of time; every
minute elasticated by the very act of focussing on
its passing; its life sustained by your every attempt
to kill it. Sleep and daydreaming, the only fortification
against the psychological attrition of time inflicted
tedium.
If
Belfast was freezing, Derry was worse. Just as it
had been two nights earlier when along with Brendan
Shannon and Sean Smyth from Belfast, in the company
of a canvassing team from Derry, I tramped the streets
of an estate in the Waterside. Up until then I thought
Gobnascale alone constituted the Waterside. This estate
was big enough. We were told it was mixed - with our
luck that would mean a mix of loyalist men and loyalist
women. It proved receptive enough, the only hostility
being the weather. The last time a chill November
Derry wind had cut into me was in the cages of Magilligan
in the 1970s. Fortunately, it was not the only memory
I was to have of Magilligan on polling day. As we
stood outside Long Tower School, huddled beneath our
umbrellas seeking shelter from the elements, a republican
I hadn't seen in years, and who was in Magilligan
with me, came up and spent twenty minutes chewing
the fat with myself and Dolours.
So
cold was it, at one point there was a stampede out
of the Waterloo Street HQ of Eamonn McCann's election
team to a thrift shop across the road to grab what
remained of long johns and gloves. Along with Dolours,
I spent longer there than I should have, browsing
through books, rather than brave the chill. But they
were useless for outdoors so I came away with gloves.
Dolours, shrewd enough to have brought handwear, ended
up buying one of Ernie O'Malley's classics. They haven't
started burning the books yet, the sole warming thought
to cross my mind.
But
in many ways I always found Derry a different city
from Belfast. In the mid-1990s when the republican
thought police here were fulminating against anyone
guilty of thinking differently, Derry semed to be
a place where a vibrant exchange of ideas could occur.
It certainly had its conservative republican politicians,
but they felt confident enough in their conservatism
to forego the more fascistic calling of some of their
Belfast counterparts. When we publicly debated the
shortcomings of the peace process in Derry in 1995,
it was only when we returned to Belfast did the carpeting
begin.
Some
element of that Derry tolerance seemed to have survived
the years of censorship and leadership rule. The members
of Sinn Fein whom we shared our arctic stand with
throughout the day were not in the slightest hostile.
None of them displayed the 'they don't think what
we are told to think' scowl. Dolours bantered them
relentlessly about decommissioning and administering
British rule, but they gave as good as they got and
on occasion told us to keep our hands warm in our
pockets rather than expend effort in handing out leaflets
to approaching voters who they knew to be Sinn Fein
supporters. At one point, one of them I had been on
the Blanket with saved me from what seemed certain
hypothermia by serving up piping hot sweet tea.
Dolours
stayed overnight, she wanted to be there for the count
the following day. For me, the work had been done
and there were things I wanted to do in Belfast. Once
the boxes closed there was no further influence that
could be brought to bear on the electorate. On the
return journey I considered the irony of it. Dolours
and myself had spent many years in prison. We were
canvassing support in Derry for the values we held
throughout our imprisonment but not for the party
we were aligned to while there. The Sinn Fein people
beside us were soliciting support for everything we
had opposed from prison and which constitutional nationalism
had championed against us. Their party leadership
had long since moved on from that era and was, outside
Derry, now allowing the business class and careerists
to stand as candidates, people who more resemble jail
governors than they do republican prisoners. Sinn
Fein in the city put up three Catholic nationalists,
the SEA fielded the only socialist. During the course
of the day Eamonn McCann said to us that watching
Sinn Fein versus the SDLP was like a trip back in
time to the 1930s when Fianna Fail battled it out
with Fine Gael and ultimately triumphed. Were we to
render our time in prison meaningless by supporting
Fianna Fail lookalikes?
Eamonn
McCann secured over 2000 first preference votes. A
socialist voice had made itself heard above the cacophony
of Derry conservatism. And some republicans can take
solace from the fact that they helped to make it happen.
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