When I was born, on August 13th, 1955, unionism was just about master of everything it surveyed across Northern Ireland. In the UK general election, in April 1955, it won just under 70 per cent of the vote and 10 of the 12 seats (two were won by Sinn Féin, but since neither member was in a position to take the seats two byelections and a court case determined their replacement by Ulster unionists). In the 1953 general election to the Northern Ireland Parliament, unionists won 39 of the 52 seats and the total unionist/pro-union vote accounted for 73 per cent of the overall tally. And in the 1955 local council elections unionism again dominated seats and votes.
Let’s jump ahead a few decades. In the 2017 election to the Northern Ireland Assembly unionism, for the first time since 1921, lost its overall majority in a devolved legislature. In the UK general election in 2019 – and again in 2024 – a majority of the 18 MPs were non-unionist. And in the 2019 and 2023 local council elections unionists again found themselves in a minority status. Crucially, in the last general, Assembly and council elections Sinn Féin nudged ahead as the largest party.
This sort of electoral turnaround – which has accelerated over the last decade – has had a massive psychological impact on unionism and loyalism. My generation remembers the days when unionists won elections without any particular effort. Those easy, almost effortless victories didn’t prevent the closing of the Northern Ireland Parliament in 1972, the imposition of the Anglo-Irish Agreement in 1985 and the “no selfish strategic or economic interest in NI” language of the 1992 Downing Street Declaration.
But even though those blows unsettled unionism, they came against a background in which unionism retained a reasonably comfortable majority. The constitutional guarantee ensured that Northern Ireland remained in the UK until a majority decide otherwise, so unionists, although unhappy with the blows, took comfort in the safety net of the guarantee and their continuing lead in the polls.
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The blows have continued to rain down and right now Northern Ireland, despite overwhelming opposition from all sections of unionism, finds itself in a constitutional position that is maybe best described as hokey-cokey status: neither quite in the UK, nor quite out of it. The safety net of the constitutional guarantee is still there (written into the Belfast Agreement) but nowadays – with Sinn Féin topping polls and unionism an electoral minority – it neither looks as strong nor safe.
All of which explains why unionism/loyalism frets so much about an ever-growing list of concerns: the amount of money the UK government seems prepared to pump into a “GAA desired” rebuild at Casement Park; the stretch of Irish language signage and schools into unionist/loyalist areas; a continuing refusal to ditch the Irish Sea Border and the deployment of EU legislation in Northern Ireland; and the refusal to kill off the debate about a potential Border poll in the next decade.
On top of all that it is now commonplace to hear mainstream unionism and loyalism complain about two-tier policing, along with pro-nationalist bias in most of the print and broadcast media, in the judiciary and in just about any decision made at council, Assembly or Westminster.
It’s the language of those who feel hard done by. The language of those who believe everyone – including some on their own side – is against them. The language of those who believe that on-the-loop whingeing is a coherent strategy for addressing their collective problems.
Well, as a history teacher friend of mine used to say: “Your problem is not always somebody else’s fault. Sometimes you need to face the fact that you may be playing a part in your own long-drawn-out downfall.” That, of course, brings us straight to the divisions that have undermined electoral/political/civic unionism since the revolt against Sunningdale in 1973/74: revolts that were repeated in 1985, 1997-2003 and then serially between 2016 and today.
I can understand the anger over the protocol and framework (although the hard-Brexit wings of the DUP/TUV and sections of loyalism had a role to play in refusing to cut their losses much earlier on). But the ongoing tidal wave of “poor us” messaging is a massive turn-off for those who want unionism to get its act together, assess the everyday realities of its position, reassess its campaigns and strategies, and adopt what might be understood as the Ian Dury “reasons to be cheerful” approach.
Speaking a fortnight ago in the opening debate of the West Belfast Festival, I noted the passion, confidence and self-belief I regularly heard from the pro-united Ireland side of the Border poll conversations and wished that I heard similar passion and confidence from my own side of the fence. And that’s what got me thinking about the state of unionism when I was born almost 70 years ago and the state of unionism right now.
[ Fractured unionism must learn how to woo support for the unionOpens in new window ]
Too many of us refuse to acknowledge that it’s no longer 1955 and that there will be no return to 1955 and unbridled unionist rule. There won’t be a single, all-in-it-together unionist party again (the divisions are far, far too deep). My generation is popping its socks and our replacements have no collective memory of pre-1972 Stormont. They don’t need to refight those battles. They don’t need to carry the baggage we left behind.
What they need to do is decide what unionism means for them in 2024: and then, having decided that, commit to the strategies that have the best hope of securing Northern Ireland in the union for the longest time. Most important, don’t get sidetracked by people who think there is a Tardis or a wardrobe that can return unionism to 1955 or 1912. There isn’t.
Alex Kane is a commentator based in Belfast. He was formerly director of communications for the Ulster Unionist Party
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