It is said that there are no real atheists in Ulster. There are Catholic atheists and Protestant atheists. Religion, about to complete a quarter of a century of the Good Friday agreements, continues to permeate everything, it is a mark, a stamp, a passport, an invisible mole on the forehead of each person that determines in which neighborhood they are born and grow up, what school he goes to, who he hangs out with, where he works and what sports he plays.
Only ten percent of the electorate do not define themselves as green (Catholic and nationalist) or orange (Protestant and unionist). They are the voters of the Alliance Party, alien to traditional tribal classifications and the fastest growing in the province. His followers, mostly professionals and young people, are fed up with dividing lines based on religion and the desire to be part of the UK or the Republic of Ireland, and their main concerns are the economy, climate change, social justice.
It is a growing group, but still a clear minority (in the last regional elections it came third behind Sinn Fein and the unionists of the DUP with 13.5% of the vote, the best result in its history). They live in gentrified, middle-class neighborhoods where there are no Union Jacks or tricolor flags, no murals paying tribute to loyalist paramilitaries or Republican heroes. in normal neighborhoods.
Lower Newtonards Road, East Belfast, is not one of them. It is a Protestant redoubt, of Protestant communion and mass followers of Reverend Paisley and atheist Protestants, concerned about the latest census, which confirms what was seen to come: Catholics are the majority in the province.
When the rebels led by Michael Collins put an end to British imperial rule a century and a year ago and negotiated the autonomy of Ireland (the first step towards independence), the price to pay was the six counties of Ulster, within a new political entity where the Protestants constituted a majority of two to one, they controlled the police, the government and all the institutions, they kept the good jobs and they could discriminate against the Catholics, the seed of the IRA terrorism and the four thousand dead of the troubles.
But the tables have been turned, and the British government is committed to calling a referendum on the island's reunification at a time when a majority seems likely to be in favour. And that day, it is closer. “I'm afraid so be it, bloody Catholics breed like rabbits and London has let us down. But listen, says Robert McCormack, a former Ulster Volunteer Force paramilitary. We are not going to allow ourselves to be dominated by terrorists or papists. We will do what needs to be done."
Threats aside, the Protestants prepare for a hypothetical future with Ulster reintegrated into the Republic, however little they feel like it. And put at worst, they demand to have their own courts and police in a kind of autonomous territory. "If there is reunification I don't know what will happen, we could become the British equivalent of the Donbass region," says McCormack.
Meanwhile, in Dublin's 3Arena, a venue where singers and musical groups such as Mariah Carey, U2 and Britney Spears perform, civil society entities and political groups led by Sinn Fein have organized a symposium to imagine and prepare the ground to a united Ireland "accommodating all identities and religions". The main obstacle is not the Protestants of Ulster, but only 22% of the Irish are willing to pay more taxes to finance reunification.
