People with guns in the streets

Monday September 26, 2005

With the Northern Ireland peace process so prominently in the news lately, after the IRA's official move to disarmament, I was surprised on Saturday to find people marching in the streets carrying guns. And this is Dublin, mind you, not Belfast.

The event was not considered newsworthy, so assume it must be some sort of annual tradition. A march went back and forth through the city centre on Saturday afternoon, for about an hour, featuring squadrons of men and women dressed in paramilitary or quasi-military or just military-ish fashion, carrying what seemed to be large guns. I would not be the person to say if the guns were real. But the banners were definitely real, calling for the British to get out of Northern Ireland and give them back their six lost counties. This event was organised by Sinn Fein, a political party that seems to be multi-faceted. On the one hand they are your friendly local left-wing reformists, calling for better public education etc etc, but then they also have some traditional (ongoing?) link to militant Republicanism. They seem quite popular, though they are not in government. Perhaps they are in transition?

This is my first experience of seeing people marching in the streets carrying guns. I would say that I hope it is my last - although you never know: there may come a day when I am glad to see people march down the street carrying guns, depending on who they are and which way they are marching.

I was surprised at how unsurprised everyone else in the street was. People just acted like it was some kind of Saturday civic festival. I suppose most other people in Dublin on Saturday were either: (a) Irish people who are used to this conflict and sick of talking about it; (b) Eastern European immigrants who are used to seeing people marching with guns in the streets.

* * *

At about the same time, I also had my first experience of industrial action. I got a call during the week asking me to do some silver-service waitering on Saturday night. I managed to direct the conversation so that I could find out what exactly silver-service waitering entails, while appearing to already know, and just be checking up on some details. Thus I was in the city, Saturday afternoon, supposedly to be ferried somewhere for work. In brief, the whole operation turned out to be a shambles, leaving about eight of us standing in a city street, not being payed, and not altogether clear when we would start being paid or how long the shift might last. After standing there seething for a while, I announced that I was going on strike.

I explained my position to my co-non-workers. I wasn't there for fun. I had been told to turn up at 3:15, so I expected to be paid from 3:15. I told them there was a principal (principle? - always forget which way this one goes) at stake. They looked at me glumly, also annoyed. But they stayed. I guess they needed the money more than me.

I look forward to this incident being transformed into a Hollywood feature film, possibly starring Russell Crowe and/or Danny DeVito.