Some Belfast people are still not ready to explore Féile an Phobail, despite peace process, writes FIONNUALA O CONNOR.
IT BEGAN as a republican attempt to discourage the wrecking of west Belfast by its own citizens, young and not so young, around August 9th, the anniversary of internment.
At first little more than a rag-bag of lectures and concerts, Féile an Phobail was also meant to give the place a significance other than riotous destruction and the trauma of the Troubles. It became part of the blueprint for the new world order, as drafted by new Sinn Féin. Some time back the single word Féile, less of an awkward mouthful of Irish for many, became familiar enough to stand alone.
This is its 21st year. Peace has brought respectability and funding from official sources, though big name performers always arrived. This year’s catch is the President, who on Tuesday delivered the annual lecture named after much-respected solicitor and proud nationalist Paddy McGrory, described by some as wise adviser to Gerry Adams while republicans came in from the cold. A long-standing Féile-watcher thought her tribute to McGrory, fearless advocate and true advocate of peace, brought some to look but a handsome crowd to listen.
From years back, only stubborn begrudgers could look at the programmes without seeing imagination and creativity, rather than patronage of fast feet and a good throwing arm. Early sponsors would not have been paying for petrol-bombs, though the propaganda was loud.
Always an obligatory group of Noraid Americans traipsing around, as one irreverent local puts it, photographing police and army firing plastic bullets, etc. It was a struggle to win funds from Belfast City Council and the Department of the Environment, who saw Féile as nothing more than a front for the Provos.
Local businesses who might have wanted to sponsor events, and in time became steady supporters, were not flush themselves. (Now a nice bright banner boasts that Sainsburys West Belfast gladly sponsors Féile 2009.) The organisers (including Caitríona Ruane at one point, now Sinn Féin’s controversial education minister) had to scrabble for money from the likes of American sympathisers. But while the war continued, some performers came in spite of the risks, perhaps a few more than a little excited by the whiff of danger, cordite, brimstone.
Stand-up comic and paid-up socialist Mark Steel has been glad to do a repeated turn, like a number of writers, musicians, artists and actors.
This year’s bill may not have stars like Roddy Doyle or Dolores Keane, as in past years, but as well as the President it boasts Chumbawumba, Pauline McLynn and Alexei Sayle. West Belfast has a huge young population. Pop groups heading the bill included Atomic Kitten a few years back. The reach is impressive, mixing outside talent and homegrown enterprise: walks on Black Mountain, a local drama group. Drive-in movies at Andersonstown Leisure Centre (The Omen, Trainspotting, Ghost) have a thoughtful, if contradictory, bus link to the City Hall – for those who don’t own cars, or who wouldn’t risk them in west Belfast?
No matter how wide the programme, there are Belfast people who will not explore the Féile just yet. Some think of everything beyond Castle Street, where the Falls meets the city centre, as rattlesnake country. Some, more political, seethe at the smoothifying of Shinners, the prospect of running into a benign, grey-bearded Adams (the other president) rapt, like any civilian might be, at a concert or a play. Others lost interest when the old, ramshackle Féile secured its funding and lost its rough corners.
The edginess may have gone, the politics linger. A longtime centrepiece is a discussion with panel, chair and questions from the floor, billed as West Belfast Talks Back. It wins the Féile’s keenest media coverage by inviting a unionist politician, not a simple proposition while the IRA continued to shoot and bomb. The audience threw awkward questions, rarely discourteously, at whoever showed up. It of course enabled republicans to say that, by contrast, unionists never invited them to the Shankill, or anywhere.
And there was always the chance that the performing unionist would inadvertently respond to an IRA man in the audience. (It happened when Jeffrey Donaldson was confronted by Seanna Walsh, the last OC in the Maze prison, who on DVD read the IRA’s statement about ending its armed campaign.) Then Sinn Féin would ask if you’ll come here, why don’t you speak to us at Stormont?
Good dirty fun, all gone. Or so say the new begrudgers, who ask where’s the needle in having Sinn Féin and the DUP on the one platform, when they run Stormont together.
But a newer West Belfast Youth Talks Back event yesterday billed a senior PSNI officer alongside UDA leader Jackie McDonald and former IRA leader Spike Murray, a grouping bound to spark sharp questions.
Féile may have lost some fizz. It’s still fine quirky value over 10 summer days in Belfast.