No white flags outside their doors
In a democratic society, compromise doesn't mean capitulation.
In 2003, the song White Flag was a huge hit for Dido. I know that because it was playing constantly on the radio as I cruised across the Emerald Isle along the A6 from Belfast Airport to Letterkenny.
Ireland changed noticeably following my first visit to Dublin in the 1980s.
Back then, it was still struggling economically. It was a very affordable tourist destination for foreigners, which was the sole reason for that initial visit. (OK, I also wanted to taste a real Guinness, but the affordability helped that happen, too.) On that trip, locals said that money wasn’t important in Ireland. Poetry, writing, and music were more valued signs of success than a bulging bank account. People wrote poetry and made music, not because it made them money, but because they could and because they could share it at the pub. Being recognized for your talent and creativity mattered more than the size of your house, your car, or your salary, they said.
Ireland seemed to win the Eurovision Song Contest every other year or so in those days. In fact, Google tells me they are the only country to win three times in a row, as they did in the mid-1990s, almost bankrupting the national broadcaster in the process.
Road trips around the island were nerve-wracking adventures for someone like me that normally drove on the right-hand side of the road. I managed, although I did have every car in the Hertz parking lot honk their horns at me once or twice before I was able to shift gears with the wrong hand and negotiate my way to the right (actually left) side of the road and find my way to the exit.
Irish hospitality is often unmatched which is probably one of the reasons why every city in the world seems to have its fair share of Irish bars. So, it always made me wonder why old divisions on the island seemed destined to remain in place in perpetuity.
There was hope and celebration in many quarters when the Good Friday agreement was signed in 1998.
Everything was still going great guns (not literally) when I drove from Belfast to Letterkenny while being serenaded by Dido proclaiming there would never be a white flag outside her door. It seemed every village I drove through agreed with her. There were no white flags. There were, however, flags. Lots of flags.
In some villages, there were Union Jacks. In others, often very short distances away, there were the flags of the Irish Republic. Still, others only flew the Ulster Banner or other flags denoting their allegiance to one side or the other of the divide that the Good Friday agreement clearly hadn’t yet completely bridged. To me, and my perhaps naïve, non-Irish eyes, the situation was slightly surreal. For all the happy media reports about “The Troubles” being over, it worried me to see that the divisions remained visibly apparent on every telegraph pole, every streetlamp, and outside almost every house.
The so-called “Iron Curtain” that separated East and West in Europe came down in 1989. Invisible walls remain in peoples’ minds. There are no white flags outside the doors, but there are plenty of flags flying. The concern I felt on that drive across the North of Ireland in 2003 is one that I’ve expanded to include other parts of the world in more recent times.
Even within Brussels, the “capital of Europe”, as soon as you cross the “border” to the province of Flanders, the streetlight poles are painted in the yellow and black colours of the Flemings. Old divides are ready to open up all over Europe as people blame others for their own problems rather than viewing compatriots as partners in preserving the peace and prosperity many Europeans still enjoy despite growing uncertainty and economic challenges.
Across North America flags are flying, too. Flags we believed belonged to historical times that we’d never have to experience ourselves are being flown alongside new ones. Protest groups fly national flags and proclaim to be the only true patriots, branding people with opposing views as traitors. While many are focused on who will win Survivor on TV, our democracy based on debate and constructive compromise is in a survival battle of its own as it comes under a growing threat of political polarization.
2023 marks the 25th anniversary of the Good Friday agreement. It signalled an end to the “Troubles” on the island of Ireland. Troubles we hope never return. As we remember the historic agreement, let’s rediscover the foresight and the will that brought it about.
Just like a loving relationship, peace needs to be something we nourish and continually work to improve and secure.
There’s no need to fly a white flag to preserve peace in democracy. Compromise isn’t the same as capitulation, especially when it helps find solutions that carry broad benefits for society.
Stay safe, Always Care
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Thank you. Thought you might appreciate this article by Ryan Halliday as well: In the year 33, a philosopher was executed by the Roman authorities. This was not an uncommon thing back then.
Cicero had his head, hands and tongue put up in the Forum by Marc Antony. The Stoic Gaius Rubellius Plautus had his head cut off and then held up and mocked by Nero. Seneca was poisoned, had his wrists slit and smothered at the orders of the man he had tutored into adulthood. Paul of Tarsus, who studied Stoicism, was also beheaded. Justin Martyr, who also studied Stoicism during Marcus Aurelius’ time, was beaten, whipped until the skin was torn from his body, and then beheaded.
But this man, referred to as Christus in Tacitus’ writing, was first beaten and then after being forced to carry the weight of the tools of his annihilation to the site of his ultimate demise, was brutally crucified on full display. But then, after he was entombed–and this is where his story is said to diverge from the Stoics we mentioned above–three days later, Christus, supposedly rose again.
Now, whether or not you consider the events of Jesus’s death to be holy or not, totally true or not, there is nevertheless a powerful lesson in them. A man went bravely to his death. A man with his last words said, “Forgive them father, for they know not what they do.” A man died willingly, believing he would absolve mankind for its sins. And then, from this loss, he and mankind were given a clean slate.
We should take this day, Easter Sunday, as a moment to reflect on the beauty of rebirth and redemption. Especially this Easter, as we emerge from the long dark tunnel that has been our collective journey through the COVID-19 pandemic. No matter what has happened, no matter what we’ve done—none of us are beyond redemption. Even in the brutality of Jesus’ execution there is evidence of this.
Well known is the story of the Roman soldier, Stephaton, who as Jesus was writhing on the cross, offered him a sponge soaked in vinegar. This has long been taken as an example of extreme cruelty—in fact, it is the opposite. The Roman legions drank vinegar wine to reduce their thirst. This was an act of mercy, quite possibly at great risk to the soldier.
There is good in all of us, even those of us who have done bad things. There is hope for all of us. The future can be brighter, as dark as the last few years have been. Let today, regardless of your beliefs, mark a moment of rebirth. Of rejuvenation. Of reemergence.
Whatever our faith, we always have the ability to be reborn. Every day that we awake, we can choose a new life, a new way, to rededicate ourselves to our philosophy. Tell yourself, as Epictetus said, that you’re not going to wait any longer to demand the best of yourself. Don’t, as Marcus Aurelius reminded himself, choose to be good tomorrow. Choose to be good today. For it is a new day, and it can also be the beginning of a new you, too.
Happy Easter.