Why’d you come here?: The Something in Student Activism

By Séamus Wagner

“Why’d you come here?”. The question pushed past the roar of Lavery’s during Freshers week to reach me. I took a moment to process the words, and as I did, the Belfast-born speaker gave me this look. Something between pity for a scam victim and childlike curiosity. “Why’d you come here?” is what he really meant. For someone who’s lived their whole life in the North, it’s probably a fair question. Hell, I feel the same way about my own birthplace of America. But with the year’s first semester over, I think I’ve got the reason why. The something that makes Northern Ireland different.

A few months ago, I didn’t feel that something. Northern Ireland didn’t even cross my mind for University. While I’d always wanted to study in Ireland, I was set on the Republic. The North was nothing more than a page in a textbook for me, the set dressing for a civil war. Why would I want to go there? It took one visit to find a reason. There were the obvious things, the stuff that gets a nice mention in brochures: the Botanic Gardens, the SU, the Ulster Museum. All beautiful and impressive and interesting, but the certain something was deeper. I stumbled onto it in the Peter Froggatt Centre. Painted onto one of its walls was an illustrated timeline of QUB’s history.

Among references to famed alumni and long-dead Chancellors, one footnote mentioned People’s Democracy (PD). A radical, student-led civil rights group dedicated to ending the mistreatment of Catholics in Northern Ireland. I read the small summary on the wall that explained this, ignorant of the broader context, and didn’t think anything of it. But just hours later, after dragging my crowd-adverse mom to Writer’s Square, I found myself at a rally for Palestine. In a sea of flags and faces, myself and others called for an end to the massacre of Palestinians in Gaza. Despite not knowing the history, I felt the connection between the two. Across half a century, the core struggle for equality and freedom remained the same.

But what does this have to do with me coming here? “Northern Ireland sure does do a lot of protesting” isn’t exactly groundbreaking stuff. Plenty of Universities have their fair share of past activism. What is it about the North, specifically? Why’d I come here?

On the 4th of January, 1969, while marching to Derry, PD activists were ambushed by B-Specials at Burntollet Bridge. With the RUC’s tacit approval, activists were attacked with iron bars, stones, and spiked sticks. On the 14th of November this year, in opposition to Apartheid-supporter Hillary Clinton’s position as Chancellor, QUB Palestine Assembly organised a protest outside Whitla Hall [1]. With the tacit approval of QUB Admin, the PSNI attacked protesting students and staff. For attempting to unveil a Palestinian flag, myself and another activist were thrown to the ground and arrested. Protesters were beaten with batons, dragged across cobblestones, and forced to the ground by police.

But, in both 1969 and last November, there was something else beneath the violence. On the way to Burntollet, schoolchildren at Dungiven ran out of their classrooms to greet the PD marchers. Over the course of the four-day march, Republicans sheltered the activists overnight, guarding them from attacks. Following the ambush, Derry residents housed and aided fleeing PD members. In what remains one of Derry’s most famous monuments, these residents founded ‘Free Derry’ in response to the violence enacted against PD. [2][1] 

Six hours after I had been arrested, myself and two others were released. We were met with cheers from a crowd of friends and activists who had braved the frigid night waiting for us. I was quickly embraced by one of them, and, shortly after, was lovingly berated by her for being reckless enough to get arrested. Another activist joked that we’d have a mural in the Falls by morning, and another still insisted on paying for my drinks during our post-jail visit to the pub. When I returned home, my flatmates broke out into their own cheers. With “#FreeSéamus” scrawled onto the kitchen chalkboard, they eagerly listened to my experience. When I had finished, I was met with nothing but sympathy and support. That’s been the case with virtually everyone who I’ve talked to about it. From fellow activists, to acquaintances, to anyone stuck in the same lecture hall, I’ve received only the warmest of solidarity.

You can find community anywhere, and what I went through was certainly not on par with the experience of the members of People’s Democracy. However I think there is something about our experiences that is special to Northern Ireland. A march that ended with state-sanctioned violence was the same march that gave hope and power to a people that lacked it. A day marked by police brutality against student protesters was also a day of relief and late-night laughs. That ability to unite, to turn a wrongdoing into a bond that can join together all manner of people, is the something that drew me here.

That something is in the student activists described on the PFC walls, and in the student activists protesting outside them. It’s in a late-night flat meeting, and in a rally outside a police station. It’s in the colours of a street mural, and in the warm hug of a friend. That something is why I came here, and it’s something that could only ever be here.

Sources:

[1] The Gown Queen’s University Belfast. “Global Innovation Summit: Protests Against Clinton and QUB’s Ties to Israel.” The Gown QUB, November 14, 2024. https://the-gown.com/2024/11/14/global-innovation-summit-protests-against-clinton-and-qubs-ties-to-israel/.

[2] Prince, Simon. Northern Ireland’s ’68: Civil Rights, Global Revolt and the Origins of the Troubles, 2007.

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