TEACHING is a hard job. Yes, they get great holidays, but coping with 20-plus children at the same time is no walk in the park. And as any teacher will tell you, there are few more frustrating things than dealing with a sulking child.
The cause for the sulking is usually something totally trivial – not being picked for a class team, interpreting mild criticism by the teacher as a calculated insult. Kids can summon out of thin air some grievance to nurse. For the teacher it’s infuriating as well as frustrating. The sulker is forever glowering and only half-heartedly engaging in work s/he could benefit from. And s/he is creating an atmosphere that makes it hard for the rest of the class to give of their best.
Some politicians are like sulky kids, only bigger. With the air thick with talk of a border poll, some unionist politicians pretend it’s not coming and, anyway, responsible people like them have better things to attend to. In doing so, of course, they’re harming themselves. Like the child, the politician has to decide what role to play. They could contribute, adding new and valuable thinking to the discussion, something that would benefit everyone, including themselves. Instead they glare from the sidelines or mutter contempt under their breath.
The grown-up politicians have to be patient and find ways that’ll coax a contribution from the sulky party. The temptation that must be resisted is to yell “For God’s sake drop the sulk! All you’re doing is making things difficult for the rest of us and impossible for yourself!”
A hundred years ago last week, the Irish delegation returned from London feeling truly sore, while the unionist delegation returned to Belfast cock-a-hoop. The disputed counties of Tyrone and Fermanagh, even though they had nationalist majorities, were included in the new state of Northern Ireland. The nationalist leaders who had attended the London talks did their best to put a positive gloss on what had been decided, but most nationalists saw it for what it was: the forcible inclusion of Tyrone and Fermanagh in the Northern state.
Over the next hundred years, Southern nationalism sucked in its breath and did its best to work with the north-eastern part of their country. It was Taoiseach Sean Lemass who travelled to Belfast to meet with the northern unionist leader, and who tried to construct mutually beneficial agreements. Ian Paisley played the role of super-alienated child and organised his henchmen to fire snowballs at Lemass’s car. It’ s all summed up in two words: “No surrender!”
How does a teacher cope with a sulking child? By carrying on the class work which s/he sees as vital, providing every chance for the sulker to become engaged and yet avoid landing them with any sense of humiliation.
Which is what nationalism has been doing with unionism for decades now. Whether it’s Sean Lemass as he braves the volley of snowballs, or Leo Varadkar as he tries to articulate the mutual benefits that need to be explored before any border poll, the reaction is the same.
The best that political unionism has come up with so far is Peter Robinson’s famous advice about insuring your house, even though you don’t expect it to be burned down. And even Peter’s advice is tinged with resentment: comparing Irish reunification with your house being enveloped in flames is a pretty sulky kind of parallel.
