Ugly scenes on streets of Belfast tap into simmering rage of a fed up public
Belfast: Protesters point at me as they march towards the battle lines during a second night of unrest on the streets of Belfast and surrounding areas.
“Put the phone down,” he shouts. He then walks with a handful of men to confront the police line at the end of the street.
I know why he was uneasy from the photos and videos I took in front of the police who were slowly taking control of the street using community shields, armored vehicles and water cannons.
In this conflict between authorities and agitators over immigration, every image carries a risk. Protesters stage clashes to ensure media attention and mobilize supporters, but police monitor every move.
Police may not arrest a protester in the middle of the action, but may do so the next day after identifying individuals using public footage of the meetings.
The leaders of this anti-immigrant movement understand the risk. “Do not publish any images showing their faces” [Northern Ireland] patriots!” On the eve of this protest, one of them, Danny Tommo, said: “Have we learned nothing from this week?”
This captures both sides of the rebellion. The protests are organized by populist and far-right professionals who know how to reach large audiences on the Internet.
But they are supported by locals who are fed up with their political leaders and believe immigration should be cut or halted.
Much of the coverage of these protests features soldiers on the front lines, young men wearing balaclavas to avoid identification. But behind them is a larger community of locals who support the cause without going so far as to throw bullets at the police.
This was certainly the case on Wednesday night in the streets of Glengormley and Newtownabbey, where hundreds of people tried to march towards a local hotel housing asylum seekers.
At least this time the police prevailed. The crowd did not reach the hotel. The protest was not as explosive as the previous night’s riots. But unrest can flare up again at any time.
For some parts of society, such protests are a way of life. In some parts of Belfast, children are raised to distrust outsiders and defy the police. Young men in black masks know how to set fire to the trash can, place it next to the bus, and turn the bus into a bonfire.
Since most of the recent protests have taken place in loyalist parts of the city, where the Union Jack is flying through the streets, there is an overwhelming sense that the agitators are from the protestant, unionist community.
But some believe Catholic nationalists have also joined the anti-immigration outcry. The long-warring Northern Ireland community now has at least one cause in common: concerns about refugees.
Many residents fear what will happen next. They can’t be sure if or when another riot will occur, like the one Monday night when immigrant families were forced from their homes. On Wednesday, rumors of daytime protests led to stores being closed, public transportation being paused and schools ending early so families could get home and stay there.
In a pub in the Holyland district of Belfast, where streets are named after biblical places such as Jerusalem and Palestine, I meet two students talking about one of the rumors spreading online. Disturbing claim that there is a “hit list” of homes with pinpoint addresses to be targeted for hosting migrants. No one can be sure whether this is fake news or a serious threat.
One of the students, Aoife Harvey, 22, understands the anger in the community. He was horrified by the stabbing attack that set off the riots on Monday night. Police have charged Sudanese asylum seeker Hadi Alodid with attempted murder, described as an attempted beheading. But Harvey fears a violent reaction from the gangs on the streets.
“People are really angry and furious about what happened, which is understandable because it was so brutal,” he says.
“But at the same time, I don’t know what the protesters are hoping to achieve. You know, these are the people who talk about protecting the local community, protecting women and girls. But they’re the same people who are burning innocent families out of their homes and destroying shops.”
Another student, Philip McCauley, 24, draws parallels to the sectarian violence that has shaped Northern Ireland. After decades of conflict between Catholics and Protestants, some are turning to a new target: outsiders in immigrant communities.
“You know, this is a pogrom,” he says. “And we have some precedent for pogroms here.”
Wednesday night’s protests were not a repeat of the worst riots on Tuesday, when men in ski masks set fire to the homes of migrant families. But a “hit list” with detailed addresses circulated on Wednesday means the risk of worse to come is serious.
Society is on edge and waiting for a new conflict.
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David Crowe is the European correspondent for The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.Connect with: X or email.
