“I hate ignoring unpleasant things because they are important.”
So says a former militia soldier who has starred in a new PBS documentary series about Northern Ireland’s 30-year civil war known as Trouble. And indeed, ‘Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland’ is not a comfortable viewing experience. I state this not only as a warning, but also as a recommendation.
The five-part series began streaming on PBS.org and the PBS app on May 22nd and premiered nationwide on August 28th. The episodes chronologically follow the troubles beginning in the late 1960s with religious segregation and social disparities among Catholics. Protestants in Northern Ireland sparked civil rights movements and sectarian violence that claimed more than 3,600 lives. The story ended in 1998 when a multi-party peace deal known as the Good Friday Pact gained overwhelming support in a voter referendum.
The series is directed by James Blumel, whose predecessors include the award-winning Iraq War drama Once Upon a Time in Iraq and the Syrian refugee crisis Exodus. : Journey to Europe”. Like his Iraq war documentary, Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland is told through the eyes of ordinary people who lived through bloody sectarian conflict. Their testimonial-style interviews are interwoven with archival footage, some of which is disturbingly graphic. The footage also contains some very dramatic moments, and the trouble unfolds almost like a bloody, hyper-violent movie. In fact, one interviewee used the very phrase “it was like a movie” to describe the early days of the war when no one knew how long it would last or how much blood would be shed. portrayed.
On the other hand, the title of the series reminds us of the power of storytelling. The phrase “once upon a time” may be reminiscent of conflicts in the distant past, but it quickly becomes apparent how real war still is to those who tell the story. Many of the people interviewed were young children or teenagers when the war began. Their stories testify to the detrimental effects war has had on young people and how it has irrevocably changed not only their families and communities but also their personal lives.
In our first interview, we hear a woman named Fiona. Her brother served in the Irish Republican Army (IRA). The IRA is an accredited Catholic militia that seeks to end British rule in the North and bring about unity and independence with Ireland. southern half of the island. Fiona-san is obviously nervous as she sits on a chair and speaks. Suddenly, someone hands her a laptop and she is confronted with a video of herself in the 1980s, when she represented the city of Derry in her Miss Ireland beauty pageant. She had a good laugh and commented on her overly sportive hair in her 80’s.
But remembering pageants, Fiona said she was “playing the part” when she was with other contestants. “Nobody knew my brother was murdered,” she said. “Nothing in it.” It’s a fascinating series of moments that set up a complex journey of emotions, memories, and secrets throughout the series.
The British director Brummell recruited Northern Irish filmmakers such as Sian McIlwain to bring different perspectives to the interviews. Aside from the final episode detailing a path to peace involving the Irish, British and US governments, there are few “talking” segments with politicians and commentators. Instead, we hear from everyday people: Catholics and Protestants. Ex-military and ex-British soldier. Because of the war, adults were widowed and children were left without fathers and mothers. Those who supported the peace deal and those who voted against it. It can be surprising how some of these identities overlap in ways that are not easily categorized.
Religion may be the most offensive of all topics.
Despite the emotional distress revealed in interviews and brutal periodic violence, the series shares stories of people overcoming divisions in their communities. In one episode, we hear the story of Terry, a Belfast music lover who opened a record store in the 1970s. By then, violence had become the norm in his hometown. He lost his friends and was himself threatened by the militia. “So I decided to do something before they killed me,” he says. His record store became a “little oasis in the sea of madness,” a place where music lovers of both faiths could come together.
We also hear about Greg and Yvonne, a ‘heterogamous’ couple (a Catholic-Protestant marriage in Northern Ireland) who met in a gritty punk bar in Belfast. For many of the bar’s regulars, this was the first time they’d met someone from a different religion or background. Punk music also attracted young people in areas tightly controlled by militias. Through punk’s aggressive sound and lifestyle, fans have found common ground, a creative outlet for anger and confusion, and an escape from community divisions.
After that we met Patrick. Patrick’s father was killed for refusing to pay protection money to the militia that controlled the community. In the early 1990s, Patrick channeled his own painful experiences into his stand-up comedy and founded the Comedy His Club. He explains how laughter works simultaneously as a healing balm, an evasion strategy, and a survival tactic. “The sense of humor is very strong in Northern Ireland, because if you were doing something funny, you didn’t have to talk about yourself,” he says. “Because no one wanted to answer the question, ‘How are you?'” And then, “If I live, we must live.” ”
Religion may be the most offensive of all such stories of significant discomfort. Most interviewees identify themselves by their religious background, but few speak of their faith in terms of the strength and comfort it has brought them during times of upheaval. After one atrocity, John, a Belfast Protestant who hid a secret about his mother from his family, said:In my life it was one of those moments when I stopped [and ask] What kind of God would let this madness go? ”
Early on, both Catholic and Protestant women from Delhi and Belfast are shown delivering tea and biscuits to British soldiers patrolling the streets of their communities, an example of Christian charity (and neighborly rivalry). can be seen. But as the series progresses, moments of grace become less straightforward. A former militiaman tells how he devoted his life to peacebuilding after serving time for planting a bomb. Another man gave up his involvement in the militia because of his marriage and family, which took a heavy toll on his family.
Some stories reveal long struggles with anger and the difficult path to forgiveness. Some interviewees have told how they channeled their pain into a movement for truth and justice for their murdered families. Even the stories of those who remain skeptical of the current state of peace convey tremendous honesty and dignity.
In the final episode, testimony is heard that he intentionally gave forgiveness. Richard, who grew up in the Catholic district of Delhi, said he was shot by a British soldier as a child. Many years later he sought out the soldier and requested a visit. It wasn’t what he expected. But that didn’t mean Grace was taken off the table. “If we want reconciliation, we can’t meet the people we want to meet. We have to meet them as they are,” he said.
For Richard, it was happiness to try to build friendships with the soldiers, even if forgiveness was not easily obtained. Perhaps effort is the key. The scene where the two men reunite at the scene of one shooting the other is unforgettable, heartbreaking, uncomfortable and inspiring.
In one of the series’ most painful moments, one recalls the apathy he encountered while living abroad in Britain when the Good Friday Pact was passed. No one there cared. I hope this documentary will find a different mindset audience in the United States. It can be difficult to see. But how difficult it is to survive war without compromising both your dignity and your peacebuilding efforts. Be sure to watch the story of ‘Once Upon a Time in Northern Ireland’ because it’s brave, it matters, and it needs to be heard.
