Ordinary People

It was the Autumn of 1984, on a dark, cool, and damp night as most people were heading to bed I set out to drive from the relatively quiet, and middle class town of Bangor to the ‘big smoke’, Belfast, specifically North Belfast, to my first posting, the very imposing and heavily fortified North Queen Street RUC Station. As a fresh faced 18-year-old, just finished four to five months of training, it was my first exposure to the realities of the ongoing conflict and sectarian violence and division which existed in Northern Ireland at that time. Looking back, I was a child, I had so much to learn, I wore the uniform, I’d gained quite a bit of knowledge of law and police procedure, but in truth my learning was only beginning, when theory met practice on the streets of a divided city - a city in turmoil.

Over the next thirty-two years, the vast majority of which was spent policing Belfast, I never really stopped learning. I completed much formal training, on many different aspects of policing, including course after course on leadership as I progressed to more senior positions. But in truth, as I reflect on those years, I learned most from ordinary people, people living, working, and trying to bring up their kids, trying to do normal life in an abnormal place where so much violence was going on around them.

During my years of policing, like many of my former colleagues I witnessed many tumultuous events. I often saw the worst of what one human can do to another, and yet I also saw the best of what people are capable of, from across the religious and political divide, in some of the most deprived communities in Northern Ireland. Whether it be as simple as the small figure of a mother, guiding her children to school, or going to the shop for the daily provisions, through debris and destruction still lying on the streets from a previous night’s rioting. Or, those working in communities to reach out across the peace lines to divert young people away from sectarian violence, to educate and share understanding of different cultures. Or for me personally, one of the most significant and poignant examples, the quiet, profound and hugely powerful words of forgiveness from a grieving father, Gordon Wilson, towards those who had planted a bomb killing his daughter in Enniskillen on Remembrance Sunday.

These are ordinary everyday people, from all backgrounds, who have and are keeping Northern Ireland going in the darkest of times, and periods of community tension. They show what we are capable of. I’ve worked with many great public servants, across many different agencies and services, many politicians, business leaders, academics and other people of influence in this small country. All clever, gifted and very committed people, trying to deliver the best outcomes for Northern Ireland, but for me the touchstone of success for public policy makers, politicians and leaders alike in this country is the degree to which they understand, acknowledge and build relationships with the ordinary people in communities they are here to serve.

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing” is a well-known quotation, attributed to several people in history including President Kennedy. Regardless of its origins, let me paraphrase, “the only thing necessary to ensure the future of Northern Ireland is no longer filled with hate, division, and conflict is for ordinary men, women and young people, to do something”. I am grateful to have witnessed many such people doing “something” in their communities for peace, reconciliation and a shared future. I believe our future will be built on the shoulders of such “ordinary people”!