I’ve clearly lost my touch on consistent blogging, but I am once again going to try getting back on track. I have a decent number of updates, so I thought I’d just devote this post to writing them.
July 26–Aug. 2: Starting this week, I ended up getting a lot of interviews for my dissertation. That made for a very intense writing process — I essentially had to finish the dissertation by August 21, but eight of my fifteen total interviews were conducted within two weeks of that day (the last interview was on August 19!). But I can’t complain; with maybe one exception, everyone was a pleasure to talk to, and I learned a lot from all of them regardless.
The major event from this week, though, was that I went to Northern Ireland (or the North of Ireland, depending on your persuasion). There’s a long and complicated history to this part of the world, one that I don’t feel like I understand all that well. But in essence, Northern Ireland (one of the four constituent countries of the United Kingdom, alongside England, Wales, and Scotland) is the descendant of a British colonizing effort. (You’ll notice that the Plantation of Ulster maps fairly closely onto the Northern Ireland-Republic of Ireland border.) Today, we talk about the divide in Ireland in terms of religion: Catholics against Protestants. But the divide is really a more general sectarian difference, mapping along Irish (nationalist) versus British (loyalist) political identities, and historical class and power differentials. Plus, there are more random but salient cultural divides (it is said, for example, that Protestants put their toasters in their cupboards). The division even goes to the language: Irish nationalists who don’t accept the legitimacy of Northern Ireland would refer to it as the North of Ireland; the town of Derry (what the Catholics call it) is known by the Protestants as Londonderry (the train stop was described as “Derry/Londonderry”). It’s said that if you want to know someone’s background, you’d ask them whether they are “a Billy, a Dan, or an old tin can.” The first is a reference to William of Orange, a Protestant king of the UK; the second is a reference to Catholics, perhaps to Daniel O’Connell, a nineteenth-century Irish leader; and the third is a slur for being Jewish. When we first got to Belfast, among the first things we saw was a mural dedicated to William of Orange.
I went to Northern Ireland with a Pomona friend, and we visited from Saturday to Monday (July 31–Aug. 2). After arriving early Saturday morning, we hopped on a train and went to Derry. I wanted to see, of course, the setting of Derry Girls.
But Derry really is a fascinating place. It was an integral setting of the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Movement, with non-violent protests as well as the creation of an ostensibly autonomous area (“Free Derry”) controlled by armed Irish Nationalists in the late 1960s and early 1970s, leading to the UK’s Bloody Sunday (1972), a massacre of Irish Catholics in the Bogside community of Derry.
As the Catholics tell the story (and as seems true based on what I know), Catholics were discriminated against in multiple systematic ways, especially through political gerrymandering and inequitable access to housing and government jobs. Unrest and eventual rioting led eventually to effective military occupation throughout Northern Ireland by the British Army and a constant state of political violence — the Troubles. The Troubles eventually ended with the Good Friday Agreement, which created special political institutions for sharing power in a deeply divided society and entered into effect in 1999. And there is much commemoration of the peace process.
But old habits die hard, and you see that with Northern Ireland. The divide is still salient — we saw that especially once we were exploring Belfast. A Marshall friend who studies in Belfast and specializes in conflict studies gave us what she called the “political tour” of Belfast, including going through different working-class parts of Belfast. In the Irish nationalist neighborhood of the Falls, you see all kinds of anti-colonial murals (it’s amazing how many depictions there are of Latin American communist revolutionaries, as well as American civil rights icons — I took a selfie with John Lewis), memorials about Irish heritage, such as Irish-language exclusive pubs presumably meant to preserve fluency in the language, and Irish flags.
In Protestant parts of town (we went to the Shankill, just adjacent to the Falls), you see murals celebrating Queen Elizabeth (the most pro-royal displays I’ve seen in the UK were in Belfast), banners likening the Irish Republican Army (one of the Irish nationalist paramilitary groups) to ISIS, and Union Jacks everywhere. One funny manifestation of the division: because the Irish nationalists see themselves as part of a global anti-colonial struggle, they often fly Palestinian flags. As a result, you’ll also see a surprising number of Israeli flags among the Protestant loyalists.
Another concrete manifestation of the divide: When we tried to get to the Shankill, we were blocked by one of the so-called peace walls — barriers built by the British to physically separate communities and make it harder to engage in violence — whose gates were closed due to rioting that happened in the spring. (Lyra McKee, a Northern Irish journalist, was killed in 2019 during a riot in Derry.)
The proximate cause of renewed tension is Brexit — the fact that the Republic of Ireland is still in the EU, but that Northern Ireland is part of the UK. Part of the Good Friday Agreement entailed the removal of any boundary between Northern Ireland and Ireland; when we were in Derry, just three miles from Ireland, we could’ve walked across into Ireland without anyone checking our passports. Everyone on the island of Ireland wants to keep that state of affairs because to recreate a border would almost certainly spur greater sectarian violence. But Brexit entailed leaving a free trade area, implying that goods that enter the EU from the UK (or vice versa) need to now be inspected for equivalence of regulation, as well as the cessation of free movement between citizens of EU countries and the UK.
Thus the massive headache of Britain’s Northern Ireland protocol: either you create a sea border between most of the UK (Scotland, England, and Wales) and Northern Ireland, or you create a land border between Northern Ireland and Ireland (unacceptable to anyone). The former is essentially what is happening, but that angers the Protestant unionists in Northern Ireland, who see themselves as British and thus evince a “siege mentality,” a fear of losing power especially in light of a growing Catholic population. (Demographically, Protestants are in decline compared to Catholics simply due to birth rates. But with the elevation of Catholics’ socioeconomic status, in part traced to the Good Friday Agreement, Protestants are also simply losing out in terms of relative power. You can probably see the parallels with the United States: as White people become increasingly less dominant both demographically and socioeconomically, they are drawn toward backlash politics manifesting in anxiety about immigration leading to conservative racial politics. For a good book on this, see Abrajano and Hajnal’s White Backlash (2015), a powerful study of how the imagination of (Hispanic) immigration shapes White Americans’ politics.)
Beyond seeing the artifacts of politics — the murals, the cannons, the flags — I also felt so fortunate to get to meet people in Northern Ireland, who were all so fascinating to talk with. When we first met my Marshall friend, she took us to a party at the food bank she volunteers at. There, I met a brilliant barrister (a lawyer, but in the UK, they divide between lawyers who go into court (barristers) and lawyers who handle transactions, contracts, and so on (solicitors)) who gave me her perspective about Irish nationalism and Brexit, and we even debated the importance of a written constitution (who would’ve guessed I would end up having similar conversations in my old college classrooms as at a west Belfast food bank party?). The man who hosted our AirBnB was an Englishman who was in the British Army during the Troubles, after which he joined the police (the Police Service of Northern Ireland, descended from the Royal Ulster Constabulary, which in turn was connected to British military occupation during the Troubles). He gave us some truly incredible, and terrifying, stories about bombings and living in a state of constant fear.
I came away from Northern Ireland feeling extremely moved: the people we spoke with were so kind and willing to speak with us, but there was also so much pain and suffering due to generations of violence. You get a new perspective on how politics shapes people’s lives when you walk the streets of such a divided society, I think.
Something I was glad we did while in Derry was we visited the grave of John Hume, a long-time leader of the SDLP (one of the non-militant Irish nationalist parties), who played a key role in the peace process.
I should also note that though I have focused a lot on the politics, we certainly also had more light-hearted moments in Northern Ireland.
Aug. 3–23: This was mostly a blur of dissertation researching and writing. My birthday was the day after we got back from Belfast (Aug. 3), so I spent it mostly doing chores and running errands, although I did stop to get a nice treat at Gail’s, a bakery. I went to a live performance of Romeo and Juliette (Aug. 11) in the Globe (which I believe is on the same site as the original and which is modeled after the theater from Shakespeare’s time, but that one burned down). I was pleasantly surprised: I never really enjoyed Shakespeare when I had to read his plays (with the exception, perhaps, of Macbeth), but it made a lot more sense when people were acting it out. I suspect the play also just makes more sense to me now that I’m a bit older; I think it’s easier, in essence, to laugh at teenage decisionmaking when one is no longer a teenager. I went with two other Marshalls, and I also saw them later that week (Aug. 13) for a going-away party, since they were in the cohort above me. A lot of those Marshalls will be in Boston, though, so I’m sure I will see them in the not-so-distant future.
The next day (Aug. 14), I got my second dose! It didn’t affect me as much as it did some of my peers (and my brother): I felt somewhat faint and lethargic, my arm hurt a lot, and I think I maybe got a mild fever that night. But I was still able to walk a lot that day and the next. I also spent some time with my LSE friend: we went to a bit of an odd museum (Aug. 12), as well as to a vegan cheese place that a Pomona friend had been asking me to go to (Aug. 18). I think vegan cheese is decent, but it just doesn’t live up to real cheese: the texture just isn’t the same.
Aug. 24–31: I turned in my dissertation (Aug. 24), which was a big source of relief, and then a Pomona friend came to visit (Aug. 24–26). He’s studying in Denmark on a Fulbright, but he decided to visit London. I tried to show him all the sights through extended walking tours: my phone records 40,279 steps on one day (Aug. 24) and then 36,001, which I was pretty happy with. We also got good food.
That Saturday (Aug. 28), I moved out to a new place out near Greenwich. The place is technically in Woolwich, the town next over from Greenwich proper, but it’s also in the Royal Borough of Greenwich. (London designations are confusing.) To be completely honest, my first impression of the place was not positive. The decision was very much an impulsive one: I was knee-deep in writing my dissertation, and I’m not too picky with where I live, so I just looked for a place within a given price range in Greenwich, which I heard was a nice part of London. The room itself is very nice, but I was a bit dispirited by two very quickly apparent facts: first, there is not much of a sense of community in the house (shared with four other guys), and second, it isn’t the cleanest place. I spent the afternoon on Aug. 29 cleaning the kitchen.
But to be honest, now that I’ve had more time to think about it, I do feel like I made a good decision. For one, I’ve now had the chance to meet everyone in the house, and they are all very interesting people. And, important to me, they’re different from my normal circles. One guy, I think in his mid-forties, is from Turkey (he left because, in his words, his country was “going to shit”); he doesn’t cook at all, but for some reason I always run into him in the kitchen while he’s heating up his food. We always have nice conversations — I get the sense he enjoys talking but is a bit lonely (not at all surprising for someone who moved to a country seemingly without many contacts in the middle of pandemic) as well as a bit self-conscious due to English being his second language (although I should note that his English is quite good). Another, I think in his mid-thirties, has a teenaged kid “based in Mexico,” in his words, and he likes to talk to me about the local area and his work (he seems to be a general handyman for a big company which contracts out those kinds of services to grocery stories, office-buildings, and so on). He grew up outside London, but he’s got a good sense of the city, and I enjoy hearing his stories and advice.
The other two guys are younger and talk less to me. One, a very English guy probably in his mid-twenties, is an accountant; he is a sporting man (I gather he plays football and rugby), enjoys poker, and is the only other person who meaningfully cooks. (Some of his cooking is quite intricate, although I do have to say I was a bit thrown off when he explained to me how he prefers cooking “Oriental food.” It’s a strange linguistic difference: in the U.S., that term has racist connotations, whereas in the UK, it’s quite common, although I would say somewhat suspect given how broad “the Orient” is and how many cuisines there are.) The fourth — the guy who lives on the first floor with me — is from Budapest, and works in hospitality. I haven’t gotten too much of a sense of him, except that he keeps mostly to himself. He did, however, judge me for making filter coffee (“it tastes like dirty water”).
All in all, though, I’m grateful to be around different people: people who are outside the academy; people who have families; people who are just trying to find a job that pays well, that they don’t hate, and that allows them to travel in their free time. It’s not that I necessarily think my roommates are more “normal” than my Marshall or LSE friends. But I do think they’re more grounded, and they feel more constrained. Most of the friends I’ve made in the UK feel, I think, that the world is their oyster; they feel empowered to do as they will, confident in their ability to thrive in their preferred path. I have much faith that they all can and will, since every one of those friends is brilliant and supremely competent. But far from everyone feels that kind of freedom and empowerment. And it puts things in perspective to know and see people’s outlooks when they don’t feel that kind of opportunity.
Something else about my new place did give me a lot of hope. I’ve been going for a lot of walks recently (in part as the weather has looked a bit better and in part to ease my mind), and I’ve gotten to see the local area more. At first, the location honestly freaked me out. Immediately next to my new place is an American-style mall: huge department stores, big shopping carts, massive parking lots. To add to the Americanness, there’s a large highway right next to where I live. I’m in London, but I’m definitely not in London anymore; more like Beaverton or Montclair, I would think. It’s given me new perspective about urban design — about how the design of roads really can make your cities walkable, or they can essentially require you to have a car.
But as I walked more, I also saw the neighborhoods filled with townhouses and kids playing on the street and adults gossiping with neighbors (a woman offered me a travel brochure to Beijing, and when I said no, she offered Tokyo). I found two massive parks, one of which I had seen before when my old flatmate and I walked down to Greenwich to see the Prime Meridian, and another of which is the site of an old, famous house (Charlton House). Greenwich, the stereotype goes, is where Central Londoners move out to when they have children; it’s the family suburb accompanying urban London life. And you really do see lots of young children playing football with their fathers, couples walking their dogs, elderly folk sitting on park benches catching up with their friends. It feels more community-oriented and personal than Central London. I love the feel of cities, and I do miss Central London, but I also am grateful to experience a different side of London.
Sept. 1–10: Despite moving out to Greenwich, I found myself going back into Central London very often. (Relatedly, my wallet has been hemorrhaging money, but c’est la vie.) The one exception is that my LSE friend came down to visit me once (Sept. 1), and we walked around Greenwich and planned future adventures. I got to hang out with a Marshall buddy (Sept. 2, 8, 10) who hadn’t been in London for most of the year (she went home early and stayed there until now), which was wonderful, and there were birthday festivities for another Marshall (Sept. 2, 3). A group of us Asian Marshalls met up, welcomed a new Marshall, and showed her around Central London, which was really wholesome (Sept. 10). I caught up with many old friends through the phone, I did another interview for my dissertation-turned-project (but I FAILED in that I didn’t record it properly, so all I have are my notes and an hour-long recording of us making facial expressions!), I met up with a Marshall who was previously based in Oxford but will now be in London (Sept. 10), and I got to see some of my friends from the Church (Sept. 3, 8), whom I’m hoping to keep up with despite having now left that church. Also, I went to the gym for the first time in a while (Sept. 7, 10), so my body is in lots of pain. One nice thing, though, is that the gym now has a punching bag, so I’ve been ending my workouts with boxing exercises.
* * * * *
Rose: My happiest moment was certainly being in Northern Ireland and meeting people there. I really enjoyed my last interview, because the interviewee was just fascinating. And hanging out with friends is always enriching for the soul. Also, both of my co-authored papers came out in this period (actually within a week of each other): the paper on human rights treaty monitoring, which my professor and I had worked on since late 2018, and the paper on the Office of Legal Counsel, from last summer’s work.
Bud: I’m going to Paris next week with my LSE friend! I’m not exactly sure what we’ll do, but I’ll certainly have many pictures. I’m also finally booked to get a British Library reader card, and I have started looking at archival stuff I want to read.
Thorn: I finally ripped the band-aid off by asking out a girl whom I had long harbored feelings for. She (very kindly) rejected the advance, which isn’t the greatest of feelings, but such is life. I am fortunate to have good friends who have talked through it all with me. And she handled the conversation very deftly.
Gratitude: I’ve spent a lot of time this last year walking in cemeteries (as you’ll know from my previous posts), and there’s a beautiful one right close to where I live. I’m grateful for the perspective and tranquility that comes from being in those spaces. And I’m reminded of my gratitude for all the wonderful moments I get to spend with people I cherish.
