Firstly, Struggle or Starve does not attempt to gloss over the history of sectarianism in the north of Ireland. From the early efforts of British imperialism to stem the rise of the United Irishmen by arranging animosity between Catholics and Protestants, to the orchestrated expulsion of thousands of working-class Catholics (and dissenting Protestants) from their homes and jobs, through the decades-long state-sponsored discrimination of the “Orange state” and the murderous conflict known as the Troubles that followed, sectarianism has been a perpetual feature of Northern Irish society.

The idea that these divisions are immutable, innate even — or that they emanate from a “conflict of cultures” — has only become popular in the last few decades. It emerged as a rearguard action on the part of an embattled Unionist ascendancy; who sought to reconfigure their sectarian practices with notions of cultural identity. Irish Republicanism, too, has acquiesced to this schema.

The retreat of Sinn Féin into an accommodation strategy with the state — entering into a consociationalist arrangement with Unionism, wherein it has become the chief representative of the “Catholic community” — has led it to emphasize the need for respect for “both traditions,” the Orange and the Green, rather than attempting to unite “Catholic, Protestant and dissenter” as the United Irishmen once did. The net result is that sectarianism is considered to be an incontestable and permanent facet of life.

Today, an entire industry has developed to promote this view. This is true in the north of Ireland itself; where the state pours millions of pounds into so-called cultural projects, including the funding of events that are deeply reactionary, under the guise of identity. Not all of this, of course, is objectionable. But it does have the effect of a self-fulfilling prophecy; whereby resources are divided on the basis of assumed cultural allegiance, and then it is assumed that these identities are fixed forevermore: nationalist equals Catholic, Protestant equals unionist.

It is also true internationally, as sections of the academy and the British military-political establishment seek to turn the experience of the Northern Irish Troubles into an intellectual export through “conflict resolutions.” Here, the Troubles are portrayed as a conflict between warring tribes, only brought to an end by the careful statecraft of Tony Blair and his government. In reality, the British state holds an enormous responsibility for the creation of conflict in Ireland, and its persistence throughout the last few centuries.

And yet, by ironic paradox, it now seeks to promote itself on the world geopolitical stage as the leading light in conflict resolution. One only has to read some of the leaked correspondence between American and British military officials in the runup to the Iraq War — where the British seek to elevate their position with their imperial allies by trumping their conflict resolution experience in the north of Ireland — to realize the extent that they have bought into their own hyperbole.

Struggle or Starve does not fit neatly into either of the “two traditions” narratives in the North, nor does it sit well with the idea predominant within conflict resolutions studies, that the best we can hope for is state-managed sectarianism. Instead, the book tells the story of a united working-class movement in a hitherto divided city — led by a small grouping of communists knows as the Revolutionary Workers’ Groups (RWGs) — that culminated in a mass riot that rocked the Unionist establishment.

To repeat, nothing in the book suggests questions of identity or national allegiance are unimportant and should be ignored. And it is a modest contribution to that discussion. But it does, I think, highlight in a dramatic way the fluidity of ideas and identity, and the promethean potential that struggle from below has in overcoming division and recasting allegiance around class lines.

The RWGs were the precursor to the Communist Party of Ireland, and emerged from a decade-long effort to create a party linked to the Comintern in Ireland in the 1920s and 1930s. The Left was small, scattered, and disorganized in this period. Some have argued that this is because of specificity of Irish society; including the strength of the Catholic Church, the Orange Order, and the allure of Irish nationalism among radicals.

There is no doubt these were precipitating factors in the small size of the Left. But considered alone, or out of context, they lead to a kind of Irish exceptionalism — that presumes revolutionary socialist politics could not, and perhaps cannot, emerge in the country. In truth, the chief explanation for the weakness of the Left in Ireland is the intense period of counterrevolution that it emerged in.

The huge upsurge in workers’ struggle during the Irish revolution — including the 1918 general strike against conscription, the Belfast general strike in 1919, and the Limerick soviet of the same year — suggested that there was nothing in the Irish psyche that precluded the emergence of radical working-class politics. But this process was defeated, both north and south, by a counterrevolution that created two reactionary states on the island that still exist today.

It was within this difficult atmosphere that efforts were made to create a communist party. Many radicals acclimatized themselves to the features of counterrevolution, sometimes falling behind nationalist conservatism, other times dropping their opposition to partition for fear of enflaming the hatred of the Orangeism. The RWGs did not acquiesce, and were genuine socialist revolutionaries (albeit with some of the ultra-left hallmarks of third-period communism). In the Irish context, they were very much of the James Connolly tradition; seeking to combine working-class unity with a struggle for a Workers’ Republic.

They were also internationalists, and sought to learn from the example of the activities of communist parties around the world. After the Great Depression began, some communist organizations around the world, particularly in the United States and Britain, set out to organize the unemployed.

The RWGs endeavored to do the same. They set up a national organization of the unemployed, and later formed a quasi-trade union for unemployed workers called the Outdoor Relief Workers Committee (ODRWC). They would go into working-class areas — in both Catholic and Protestant districts — to hold street meetings, and eventually organized mass demonstrations in the center of the city. Following this, the ODRWC called a strike of those unemployed workers who were on government-run work schemes.

This provided a focal point for the movement, and the mass demonstrations continued to grow. These alarmed the Unionist government, particularly because of their communist leadership. The state set out to smash the movement. On October 11, 1932, a mass demonstration of the unemployed was banned, and then set upon by a heavily armed Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC), killing two people and wounding dozens. The workers and unemployed resisted, and the Outdoor Relief Riots were born.

There have been some efforts to examine the ODR riots. I talk about them in the introduction to the book. But generally speaking there is a lack of labor history that covers the north of Ireland, with a few excellent exceptions. Some of this has to do with the aforementioned tendency to view sectarianism as permanent. Why, then, would you bother researching a period of working-class unity? But it also has to do with trends within the Northern Irish academy over the last few decades.

After the left upsurge of the 1960s, many universities around the world saw an increased uptake in labor history. This was true, for example, in the United States. In Ireland, by contrast, this period coincided with the emergence of a republican insurgency against the state, and the protracted period of conflict that followed.

As a result of this, there were efforts within the state-funded academy to undercut radical republican and socialist narratives through an emerging revisionist movement that sought to absolve the British state of its role in the conflict, blame the emergence of the Troubles on the activities of socialists and republicans, present Ulster Unionism as an innately progressive movement only forced into reaction by overzealous Catholics, and undermine the idea that a socialist republic could be fought for on the basis of working-class unity.

Labor history, therefore, was collateral damage in this ideological war. Even those who claimed to be writing from a socialist or Marxist perspective were heavily influenced by the climate. The tendency among the academic left in the late 1970s and early 1980s to use an Althusserian framework for understanding class and ideology — where economics, ideology, and politics were shoehorned into separate, fixed levels — was prevalent too in the north of Ireland, with some peculiar results. Some writers, often dubbed the “Orange Marxists,” used this framework to excuse loyalist sectarianism as a working-class reaction to nationalism.

Others, often called the “Green Marxists,” used precisely the same framework, but with polar opposite results; concluding that the predominance of loyalist ideology within the Protestant working-class ruled out any possibility they could be won to socialism. The conclusion of “green” Althusserianism and “orange” Althusserianism was the same; working-class unity in Northern Ireland was impossible.

As the Northern Irish peace process began, the academy followed; its previous flirtation with Marxist verbiage was abandoned in favor of a new reductionist paradigm that boiled every question down to identity and culture. Again, the role of those at the top of society in creating and maintaining sectarianism was ignored — often justified in academic parlance by Foucauldian notions of “dispersed power” — and the historic role of imperialism was minimized or abandoned. The emphasis was placed on “ethno-national” explanations of the conflict. In general, therefore, the prevailing ideas within the academy have tended to reflect the predominant ideas within the Northern state, rather than challenge it.

Struggle or Starve, by contrast, firmly lays the blame for sectarianism at the feet of those that ran the Northern Irish state, and describes how they consciously set out to destroy attempts to bring Catholic and Protestant workers together.

A few observations. The combined and uneven development of Irish capitalism meant that industry in the northeast of Ulster grew much faster than the rest of Ireland. The largely Protestant industrialists of this region feared that an independent Ireland would exclude them from the riches of the British Empire. This, then, is the basis for the emergence of Unionism.

But this idea has come under sustained assault in the last few decades, particularly from those who promoted “two-nation theory” (or its later postmodernist and ethno-centric variations) as an explanation for division in Ireland. Here, Protestants are considered to be a different nation from Catholics. Unionism, following this, is considered a natural political expression of the Protestant nation (or ethnicity).

There are serious problems with this idea. It underestimates the extent to which Unionist identity has been continuously shaped and reshaped to suit the interests of elites. Unionism was, for example, very much an “Irish” movement in the nineteenth century, as it sought to present itself as the most reliable ruler of the nation to the British political class. As Home Rule became more likely, Unionism retreated into the bunker of Ulster, both geographically and in terms of expression, with “Ulstermen” becoming a new watchword. Running through much of this was a very clear expression of a desire to maintain a link with Britain, a Britishness, if you like.

But again, this had as much to do with the desires of the economic elites to maintain a link with the British Empire as it did with anything else. Close readings of the language of the Unionist elites during this period reveals that it was the fear of Home Rule leading to some kind of Bolshevik Ireland that was paramount in their thinking, as much as any fear of denied nationhood. Unionism did develop close links with the British establishment. But the relationship between the two has always been pragmatic, often rocky, and at times hostile, placing serious question marks over the easy absorption of Unionism into a British nation.

If you see Protestants and Catholics as representing two separate nations you face more immediate problems as well. Most Catholics and Protestants work in the same places, shop in the same shops, socialize in the same areas. Certainly, a significant degree of segregation remains (particularly in schooling and housing), but this hardly amounts to the basis for a separate nation. Ideas like these — including the ridiculous notion that Protestants should have a separate vote to opt out of a United Ireland, leading presumably to the repartition of areas like Belfast and Derry, street by street — are relatively benign when they exist in academic discussions or in the programs of some left-wing sect. Put into practice, however, they would have catastrophic reactionary consequences.

There were certainly differentials in the position of Catholic and Protestant workers. In this period, Catholics were more likely to be unemployed, or to be employed in unskilled labor. They were also less likely to have access to housing. The initial basis for these differences was in the relatively late entry of Catholics into the Belfast working class (coming after a period of rural migration into the city as a result of an economic boom). Protestant workers were more established in the city, and were often organized into exclusive craft unions. Naturally, this division of labor caused sectarian tension. Left to its own devices, however, these differences and divisions would have lessened over time as Catholics became more established within the labor movement (as happened in many other cities around the world.)

The persistence of sectarianism lies in the way that Unionist elites exploited these differences by building a sectarian political movement, but also through the practice of active discrimination against Catholics. This led some to presume that the basis for sectarianism lay in the fact that Protestant workers benefited from sectarianism, and that there existed two tiers within the working-class, the privileged Protestant labor aristocracy, and the Catholic working class.

There are serious deficiencies in this understanding of sectarianism. Though Protestants did make up the bulk of the skilled workforce, the majority of Protestants worked in unskilled positions. Combining them together as one labor aristocracy, therefore, is too simplistic. Also, the class composition of Loyalism did not always reflect this privilege. As I explain in the book, the main basis for Loyalism in the 1930s was within sections of the Protestant unemployed, led by sections of the Protestant middle class. Hardly a reflection of skilled labor aristocracy.

However, there were economic disparities between Protestants and Catholics. The divided state of the working class in this period meant that wages for workers as a whole were lower than they were in similar cities in the United Kingdom. Protestants tended to have a better position than Catholics in Belfast, but workers in areas like Manchester or Glasgow had a better position than both. Considering Protestant workers to have “benefited” from sectarianism, therefore, is not as simple as it may seem at first glance.

None of this is to downplay the discrimination and repression meted out to Catholics. In fact, one of the key reasons why the working class remained so divided was the failure of the labor movement to challenge this discrimination. But writing off a large section of the working class does not help that cause either.

Today, the gap between the position of Catholics and Protestants in the North has practically closed, largely as a result of the civil rights movement, as well as conscious desire on the part of the British state to co-opt the Catholic establishment and middle class into the Northern state. Though Unionism continues to be the prevailing ideology, Nationalism now has its place in government.

Sectarianism, unfortunately, has not gone away, and is never very far from the surface. The changing dynamics do not mean that it is any less dangerous. But it does mean that we have to abandon the attempt to explain it with narrow concepts of privilege within the working class. Those grappling with the relationship of class and privilege on other questions would do well to study the Northern Irish experience.

What you are alluding to here is the stages theory of Irish history, where progress must go through mechanical stages — first a united Ireland is won, and thereafter the fight for class politics and a socialist Ireland begins. There has always been a very obvious problem with this neat sequence, namely the fact that a united Ireland will never happen unless it wins at least a section of Protestants to support it.

A strategy that attempts to separate the national question from social questions is never going to do that for one simple reason: the state in the south of Ireland, replete with endemic corruption, gangster capitalism, and Catholic Church control over health and education, is not going enthuse Protestants to support a united Ireland, and may not even do so for Catholic workers in the north. Consequently, support for a united Ireland in polls remains quite low.

There is also a version of the stages theory in reverse. Here, the argument is to leave the national question to the side (and all of the arguments that come with it), and allow workers to unite around bread and butter issues, whereupon at some point in the future the national question will be solved “on a socialist basis.” Again there is an obvious problem. Partition, and all the ills that it brings with it, is the source of division within the working-class. As I explain in Struggle or Starve, workers in Belfast very effectively came together around bread and butter issues in 1932. But the book also explains how sectarian ideology was used to divide workers thereafter. You can ignore the national question, but the national question won’t ignore you.

All progressives should be opposed to the partition of Ireland. It arose from a counterrevolutionary movement supported by British imperialism in order to set up what Connolly called a “carnival of reaction” north and south. But opposition to partition is not simply historic. The partition of Ireland is constantly used as a means to divide the working-class today, to strengthen the hand of conservatism and reaction on both sides of the border.

For this reason, we must reinvigorate James Connolly’s idea of combining the national question with social questions, and well as recovering his vision for a socialist Ireland. But this cannot be done on the basis of doctrinaire sloganeering. We must seek ways to talk in practical terms about the kind of united Ireland that socialists want to see. One where the rights of women and the LGBTQ community are enshrined and respected, where refugees are welcome and our borders are open, where the power of the corporate elites is challenged and the neoliberal reshaping of Irish society is brought to an end. And we must combine this popularization of a new socialist Ireland with participation in mass movements that fight for these things in the here and now. We must, as Marx insisted, rise from the abstract to the concrete.

The situation is contradictory. As you say, the DUP recently had a strong election, leading them to into an arrangement with the Conservative Party to prop up a minority Tory government. This puts Unionism in a uniquely strong position — with a direct line to a dependent British government, something that it has not had for some years. Better still for the DUP, this agreement comes at a time when it was in negotiation with Sinn Féin to resurrect the Northern Irish Assembly, putting it in an immeasurably stronger negotiating position than it had been just months ago.

Many people in Britain, unaware of the detail of Northern Irish politics, are aghast that a party as reactionary as the DUP are at the heart of government. In reality, the governing arrangement is a reversion to type for both the Conservative Party and Unionism, the latter having originally emerged with political, financial, and military support of the former. Frankenstein’s monster returns to its creator.

Naturally, much of the press coverage has focused on the way the DUP has propped up a weakened Tory administration. But at the same time, the reverse is true; the invitation to join the Tories offered Unionism the chance to temporarily reverse its previous state of recidivation. This was true in the short term; with the DUP having been engulfed over the last year in a financial scandal (known as “cash for ash”) that ultimately resulted in the collapse of Northern Ireland’s political institutions. The elections that followed led the DUP to lose its overall majority in the Northern Irish Assembly.

But this recent crisis was also indicative of a deeper malaise within Unionism, where its political and economic power had been on relative decline for some decades — causing it to rely on corrupt schemes to maintain some degree of patronage to its supporters, and in turn deepening its propensity to enter crises. The Tory deal offers a temporary reprieve, but it does not solve the underlying weaknesses. Instability, therefore, will be endemic within Unionism for the foreseeable future.

Brexit also offers difficulty to Unionism, which may seem strange given that the DUP enthusiastically supported British withdrawal from the European Union. But Brexit has caused an existential crisis for the union. There have been increased calls for a border poll in Ireland. The same is true in Scotland. This has led to a questioning of old certainties, and opened up new possibilities. The future vitality of the Unionist project is far from certain.

The resurgence of Sinn Féin’s vote in the North is directly tied to the perception that it stood up to the DUP during the “cash for ash” scandal by pulling out of the institutions. This was deeply popular within the nationalist community. It has, as well, been an advocate of the equality agenda, challenging the DUP on their failure to legislate for equal marriage and the rights of Irish language speakers (though not for the right to choose for women, it should be said). All of this is tied to renewed calls for a united Ireland through a border poll.

There are contradictions at the heart of the Sinn Féin’s resurgence. Firstly, the party’s shift to the left in rhetoric conceals an underlying shift to the right in its strategy. As it talks tough about the DUP in the north of Ireland, it is preparing the ground to enter government in the south as a junior partner to the right-wing Fianna Fáil. Propping up one of the historic parties of Irish capitalism will be unpopular with much of Sinn Féin’s base. But SF spokespeople have made much in the last few months of the need for the Irish government to be the co-guarantor of the peace process in the North, using the pretext of the Tory-DUP deal. “Who better than Sinn Féin to make sure they do so,” they will say. The path is clear. Whether Fianna Fáil joins them on it is another question.

Sinn Féin also finds itself in contradiction over the European Union. It supports the European Union, and hopes to use this as a means to resurrect the Irish national question. The instability caused by Brexit, and the fears about what it might lead to, has temporarily given cause to the idea that a united Ireland might result from the fallout. But in the long run this is not a simple proposal. Firstly, there is the question of whether the European Union itself survives. Secondly, the Brexit negotiations will increasingly become a battle between two competing imperial blocs; Britain and the European Union (backed up in the main by German and French capitalism). Both of these imperial blocs will threaten to do damage to the people of Ireland.

By hitching its wagon to the European Union, Sinn Féin have undermined their argument for Irish sovereignty. The scaremongering that Sinn Féin has undertaken around Brexit (often as a stick to beat those further to the left), will come back to haunt them, and undermine arguments for Irish unity. When Sinn Féin argues that leaving the European Union could cause uncertainty with funding, investment and political stability, it is simply providing these lines a test-run for their use against the idea of a united Ireland.

It is highly questionable whether Sinn Féin’s vision for a united Ireland can garner the necessary support to carry out the unification. In the last decade the party projected a moderate vision of Irish unity, and that will prove to be unpopular even among its own support base. In addition to its support for Ireland’s tax haven economic model, the party makes arguments about the savings that unity could bring about because of the end of a duplication of services. Such an argument is opening the way for a united Ireland campaign to include rhetoric about the gutting of the public sector, most likely in the North. Those of us in favor of a united Ireland must endeavor to come up with a more radical vision.

That is an open question. What’s for sure is that the state-managed sectarianism of the Northern Irish peace process has failed. So, too, has the idea that a future beyond sectarianism will come about by “making Northern Ireland work.” Northern Ireland is a sectarian state — making it work only means making sectarianism work.

The alternative is struggle. The idea that through common action and mass agitation we can create the conditions for divisions to be challenged, allegiances questioned, and the dividing lines of society to be rethought. Action alone will not overcome sectarianism. A cursory look at the history of the Irish labor movement will tell you that. But it is within the context of struggle that political ideas can be fought for and won.