For all our sakes, democracy must always trump nationalism

Fergus Finlay has never come across nationalism that seemed essentially to be based on snobbery. If there is one in the world, he thinks Catalan nationalism might qualify

For the next few minutes, forget about the budget. I’ve said all I want to say about it last week, and you don’t have long to wait before you find out every detail in it.

The last thing you need, I reckon, is another article trying to make predictions about what will be, after all, a pretty marginal event in most of our lives.

So let’s talk about nationalism.

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a piece here suggesting that one possible outcome of Brexit was that Britain might have to decide to withdraw from Northern Ireland.

Last week, among other things, I condemned the violence perpetrated by the Spanish police against the people of Catalonia, and suggested the heavy-handed reaction of the authorities might well have lit a flame that would be impossible to quench.

In the aftermath of both pieces I got all sorts of approving reactions, in a lot of cases from people who thought my nationalist sentiments were impeccable.

Oh dear. For all my adult life I’ve believed that in all circumstances where nationalist ambitions are pursued by anything other than democratic means, those ambitions result in terrible, to the point of evil, consequences.

By the same token, of course, when nationalist ambitions are thwarted by violence, the consequences are just as terrible.

That’s why I’m totally committed to the idea that one of the most important political achievements in my lifetime was the decision to give absolute priority to the principle of consent.

It was first enshrined in the Downing Street Declaration at the end of 1993, when John Major signed his name to a declaration that “it is for the people of the island of Ireland alone, by agreement between the two parts respectively, to exercise their right of self-determination on the basis of consent, freely and concurrently given, North and South, to bring about a united Ireland, if that is their wish”.

Albert Reynolds and John Major in 1993.

For his part in the same document, Albert Reynolds said on our behalf that “it would be wrong to attempt to impose a united Ireland, in the absence of the freely given consent of a majority of the people of Northern Ireland”.

The language of those principles was fought and argued over for months in the run-up to the declaration. Once agreed, they became the basis for all progress.

Essentially the same language was used in the Good Friday Agreement, which involved not just the two governments but all the political parties of Northern Ireland, and is of course now enshrined in our Constitution by a massive vote of the people.

Only the people of Ireland, voting again in a referendum, can change this: “a united Ireland shall be brought about only by peaceful means with the consent of a majority of the people, democratically expressed, in both jurisdictions in the island”.

That language offered a new definition of nationalism, one that equated the right of a discrete people to self-determination with democracy.

It repudiated “armed struggle” — the pursuit of nationalist aims by violent means — and emphasised the primacy of consent.

So when I see a government like the government of Catalonia deciding that it is going to strike for independence on a completely unilateral basis, seeking the consent of nobody but itself, I shudder.

I also fail completely to see the logic.

There was a representative of Catalonian nationalism on Marian Finucane’s radio show on Sunday.

His name was Albert Llussa, and he was introduced as a human rights lawyer.

I have to be honest and say he sounded like a highly polished spin doctor instead.

Although he acknowledged that Catalonia was one of the richest regions of Spain, he spoke about oppression as one of the reasons Catalans were desperate for independence.

Oppression? Catalans live in one of the most beautiful parts of the world.

Barcelona at night

Their capital city is one of the wonders of the world.

They have their own autonomous parliament, a large number of local authorities, good health care and education systems, a higher GDP than many regions of Spain, and lower unemployment rates than many parts of their hard-pressed country.

They have their own language, culture, and traditions – all of which they are free to exercise without any interference.

The only visible difference that independence, as opposed to autonomy, would make is that they could man a border between themselves and Spain (and presumably between themselves and France and Andorra too — although maybe the next step would be to take over Andorra, a lot of whose tiny population also regard themselves as Catalan).

Catalonia would need its own navy and army, presumably, and of course, if it successfully broke away from Spain, it would need to renegotiate its position in the EU.

Why in the name of heaven would good and decent people, among the happiest and most welcoming people in Europe, want to do all this?

What underlying instinct is there that wants to regard itself as not Spanish, or different to Spain, or perhaps even better than it?

I have to say, I’ve never come across a form of nationalism that seemed essentially to be based on snobbery.

If there is one in the world, Catalan nationalism might qualify.

None of that of course is to justify the anti-democratic brutality exercised on behalf of the government of Spain.

But I cannot see how, in a democracy, one bit of a country that is not oppressed, that is not ethnically different, that is not downtrodden, can be easily allowed to walk away from the rest.

Carles Puigdemont

In the discussion that followed Mr Llusa’s interview, the point was made, what if Munster decided to secede from Ireland?

It wasn’t pursued, perhaps because it’s hard to see Munster as a single entity.

Marian Finucane did make the point that they wear red in Munster a lot, which must have impressed the hell out of the Kerry footballers and Tipperary hurlers listening in.

But on a slightly less fanciful note, suppose in some fashion the link between Northern Ireland and Great Britain were broken, and the people of Northern Ireland, exercising their right to self-determination, decided not to join us but to strike out on their own?

How, I wonder, would our nationalist majority react to that? Wouldn’t things get ugly?

That’s the problem.

We’ve seen it all too often throughout history, and especially throughout the history of the 20th century.

We saw it in the Balkans, where the rise of nationalism led to the atrocities of ethnic cleansing.

We’re seeing it now in the attempts in the United States, for political reasons, to fan the flames of white nationalism.

And there are other poisonous mixes, all too easily found.

Nationalism and religion. Nationalism and racism.

These things don’t apply in the case of Catalonia, and surely a way should be found so the wishes of the people can be ascertained in an open, respectful, and democratic way.

And when ascertained, there is a heavy onus on both sides to find an accommodation that respects a democratic outcome.

Because democracy must always trump nationalism. It can never be the other way around.