Crank economics 2.0

The ‘economic nationalism’ offered by right-wing populists sounds as though it is a break with the dominant, neoliberal economic model (the “crank economy”), argues Maurice Macartney, but on closer inspection, it is simply another version, this time within more easily controlled borders.

#CrankEconomy – how the mechanism works!

It has been a bad few weeks for right-wing populists (pauses for cheering to subside).

Bouffant hairdo notwithstanding, Geert Wilders failed to become the Dutch Donald Trump, and the original US version failed to ‘repeal and replace’ President Obama’s Affordable Care Act. Of course, we should be careful not to read too much into these events. We have yet to see how many French voters will support Marine Le Pen’s National Front, for instance. Moreover, Mr Trump may have failed to take health care off millions of working class Americans, but he may yet achieve other aims such as doling out yet more tax cuts to an already hyper-rich elite.

Nevertheless, Mr Trump’s failure leaves him looking less of a ‘closer’, more a loser. And if his astonishing claim that “nobody knew healthcare could be this complicated” (it’s the ‘nobody’ that gets me – wasn’t he paying attention this last seven years?) is anything to go by, he may have just started to realise he is out of his depth.  If those who voted for him begin to realise that too, the mid-term elections of 2018 are going to be very interesting.

Closer to home, we are also witnessing the continuing collapse of UKIP, with their sole MP, Douglas Carswell, jumping ship to become an Independent. Ironically enough.

So are we at a turning point? Has the surge of right wing populism reached its high tide mark? Time will tell – but progressive politicians and campaigners cannot afford to sit back and relax. It cannot be denied that Trump, Wilders, Le Pen, Farage and the rest have tapped into a broad seam of discontent, the strength and breadth of which took most of us on the left or even on the centre right by surprise. Even if Trump (let’s use him as metonym) begins to lose momentum at this stage we cannot simply go back to business as usual, for at least two key reasons, one more immediate, the other more fundamental.

One immediate reason for Trump’s success was his open appeal to a xenophobia of varying degrees of intensity. The openness of this appeal shocked liberals and leftists, and the centre right, most of whom felt that such a man could never, surely, make it all the way to the White House. But it is precisely that unthinkability that gives us a clue to the power of Trump’s appeal, and gives us forewarning about the way to overcome it.

In an excellent discussion of identity politics in the New Humanist, Lola Okolosie and Vron Ware remind us that in the late 1970s, when Rock Against Racism got going, it helped make racism ‘uncool’. The effect, as Ware says, was a “powerful relegation of racist views to the edge of what was acceptable, without being moralistic”. No one, until recently, she significantly continues, wanted to be seen as racist. Okolosie draws the conclusion: someone like Nigel Farage allows people who formerly held back because they did not want to be seen to be racist to come out, as it were. Mr Farage’s supporters felt they suddenly had authorisation to “speak their truth”. The parallels with Mr Trump’s energetic rallies are clear.

The lessons for the left, though, perhaps need a bit more thought. To be clear, Rock Against Racism, and all the other anti-racist efforts, were great and necessary interventions. But not wanting to be seen to be racist is not the same thing as not wanting to be racist. If we are to address the cause of the current upsurge in overt xenophobia, simply shouting and shutting down the xenophobes (being ‘moralistic’) will not do the trick. Rather, we need to defuse the xenophobia itself. That will take a long, detailed effort that cannot bypass honest conversation. Amongst ourselves, and with others.

You cannot solve the problem of xenophobia, after all, by repeating its core gesture – ‘othering’ a whole group of people and labelling them ‘enemies’ (or in this case ‘racists’).  Not without talking to them first, at any rate. Xenophobia comes in a spectrum, with everything from those expressing confused discomfort at one end to out and out white supremacists at the other. Collapsing that spectrum down, so that ‘they’ appear to be ‘all the same’ is not how to deal with this. But because many, including some on the left, are so quick to collapse the spectrum rather than engage in a conversation about the meaning of the confused discomfort (think Gordon Brown meets Gillian Duffy), the underlying issues have remained unaddressed, sometimes for decades.

And it is the underlying issues that we need to be clear about if we are to get at the root causes of our current problems. Indeed, Gordon Brown couldn’t address those with Mrs Duffy because it would have meant facing up to the systematic flaws in the policies he had been pursuing since 1997. Policies governed by the logic of crank economics.

To sum up that logic, for thirty odd years the dominant political parties told us that the market knows best, that if we try to ‘interfere’ with the workings of the market, no matter how painful they may sometimes be, we will do more harm than good. We will kill the goose that lays the golden eggs.  Millionaire Conservatives and Republicans told us that we had to keep turning the crank, keeping costs (such as wages) down and rewarding the ‘wealth creators’ or they wouldn’t be able to ‘create jobs for us’. Self-proclaimed ‘centrists’, like millionaire Tony Blair, and the Clintons, told us that we had to keep turning the crank, keeping costs down and rewarding the ‘wealth creators’ or we wouldn’t have money to put into public services or social security.

Enough people bought into this logic for it to shape the outcome of successive elections from the late 1970s until the crank broke in 2008. Oh, sure, conservative governments were elected after that – decades of momentum don’t come to a halt overnight – but try as they might to get the crank turning again, some of the workings had become disconnected. The machinery was out of whack. But why?

Predictably, some politicians and newspapers opened, in Tanya Jones’s wonderful phrase, a can of worms and pulled out a big red herring. They pointed at the broken workings and sold the idea that it was foreigners what done it. Bureaucrats in Brussels, Eastern Europeans taking ‘our’ jobs and houses.

Wrong. But repeat that story often enough (daily, as in Daily Mail) and it starts to sound, to some, like common sense. For those at the receiving end of the downward forces, symptoms of the crank economy come to appear as causes in themselves­. People without much money competing for precarious jobs on low wages, competing for barely affordable housing, or for the last remaining places in an overcrowded school find it easier to spot an outsider coming in for a share of these resources than to notice the real problem: the massive, and systematically increasing share of our collective resources being cranked to a tiny group at the top, precisely by putting downward pressure on a whole broad range of people at the bottom.

We need to get the message out: yes, you have been given a raw deal, but it’s not because of outsiders. It is because of the policies pursued for decades by the political parties currently claiming they have ‘taken back control’ for you.

Their goal is not to ‘repeal and replace’ the crank – quite the opposite. Look at the details of the ‘replacement’ Mr Trump had in mind for Obamacare. Here’s a graph, showing the scale of the cuts in coverage for the least well off, and the associated huge tax breaks for the very wealthiest.

And here is a graph showing the forecast effects of Mr Trump’s and Mr Ryan’s tax plans.

Bit of a pattern emerging, no?

Incidentally, clearly Ryan’s is more painful for average Americans than Trump’s, but let’s not be hoodwinked into thinking the latter is anything but a high-geared, well-greased machine cranking wealth to the top. Indeed a really cynical part of me thinks the whole function of the Ryan plan (according to which 99.6 per cent of the tax relief over the next decade would go to the top 1 per cent) is to make Trump’s (with ‘only’ 50.8 per cent going to the top) look generous. Lest you are tempted by that bait, remember this: those in the poorest fifth will ‘save’ $100 under Ryan and $120 under Trump (though of course they will bear the brunt of public service cuts). Those in the top 0.1 per cent (including, for instance, the Trump family) will receive $1.4m under Ryan and fully $1.5m under Trump. Let’s see that on a chart:

Struggling to see the two columns on the left? Then let’s convert the figures into something more visible. If each dollar is 1 millimetre, the columns representing the poorest fifth come in at just over 10 centimetres, or around four inches. About the height of a coffee cup. The columns representing the tax relief for the top 0.1 per cent reach 1.4 and 1.5 Kilometres respectively. There is currently no building on earth tall enough to unfurl a full-scale copy of our chart from.

Take back control for whom? For ordinary citizens? For democracy? No: the right-wing populists want to take back control the better to keep turning the crank. Better still, if they can get you to put your shoulder to the crank by telling you how awful these foreign regulations are (it’s all ’ straight bananas’ and ‘health and safety gone mad’) they will do so, and get you singing the national anthem while they’re at it.

Mrs Thatcher used to say ‘there is no alternative’ to the rule of the market – the crank economy. Right-wing populism appeared, at first glance, to offer just such an alternative, in the form of so called ‘economic nationalism’. But judging by Mr Trump’s emphasis on cutting social security and doling out tax breaks to the rich, this is no real alternative at all, more an attempt to confine the crank within more easily controlled borders.

So what is the alternative? Global economic democracy.

But to discuss that, we’ll have to wait for another post.

Maurice Macartney

28 March 2017

 

Progressive pragmatism as a response to uncertain times

In the last of our series on the Assembly Election of 2017 Jenny Muir sets out the case for a progressive pragmatism built around broad and shifting partnerships, and aimed at achieving specific goals.

As hope fades of a new Executive being formed next week, and another election may be called, where does the (previous) election leave progressive politics?

The increased turnout, from 55 per cent to 65 per cent, should be welcomed. Yes, some may have voted in response to scaremongering from the DUP or a revitalised Sinn Féin election machine hoping to take the party over the line to the First Minister job. But getting people to the ballot box is the first step towards electoral change. We cannot get people to vote differently if they are not prepared to vote at all.

So how did people vote? Pretty much the same as before, according to vote share: unionists lost only 0.7 per cent; ‘others’ (Alliance, Greens and People Before Profit) gained 1.5 per cent and nationalists gained 3.8 per cent. The seat share tells a slightly a different story, and it’s the seats that matter. The reduction from 180 to 90 hit unionists hardest, with a 7.4 per cent decrease; ‘others’ increased their share by 1.2 per cent. The big winners were nationalists, with a 6.3 per cent increase. The breakdown of 40 unionists (including the TUV and Claire Sugden), 39 nationalists and 11 ‘others’ does indeed remove the unionist majority for the first time. But the election statistics also show that the ‘other’ parties are still failing to make the kind of gains that might seriously challenge the communal blocs.

It’s particularly interesting that this continues to be the case when  40 per cent of us identify as neither unionist or nationalist, compared to 33 per cent unionist and 25 per cent nationalist. Of course there are many reasons why people vote the way they do, and also reasons why people with progressive views might join a communal party. All parties are coalitions to some extent, and if your party’s ideological basis is British or Irish nationalism, then there will be room for a wide range of other beliefs within the membership. Individuals from different parties can and do work together in the Assembly to advance particular causes. It is also important to ask how this work can be done elsewhere, for example in local councils and in single issue campaigns.

So… what should we be working on, whom should we be working with, and how should we be working together?

What?  At The Combination have defined progressive values as including social justice, equality, democracy, nonviolence and sustainability.  Stephen has listed marriage equality, abortion rights, trade union rights, equalities issues and environmental protection as topics around which progressives can make alliances. Other possibilities include education, health and housing. Basically there is no shortage of issues where common ground may be found across parties and between political activists and civil society campaigners.

Who?  Many of us have mixed experiences of interaction with other parties, but will recall working together in trade unions and single issue campaigns as a matter of course, in order to maximise the chance of achieving change. The difficult and unwelcome truth about progressives working together is that we are going to agree on some issues and not on others. For example, it’s proving easier to build a coalition on equal marriage than on abortion. There is a sticking point on ‘integrated’ versus ‘shared’ education. Health campaigning is very fragmented. So our partners in particular single issue campaigns and initiatives will differ. To me there is no question that these partners will include members of the communal parties in some instances.

How?  In Northern Ireland we are disadvantaged by the lack of a non-party structure for progressive politics, such as a think tank or a broad-based civil society campaigning organisation. There are very few non-partisan forums for political debate, especially to promote the kind of constructive discussions that explore and understand different views on controversial topics – essential to develop the trust Tanya talks about, and the finding of common ground and willingness to compromise noted by Stephen. New spaces for progressive debate and collaboration must be developed as a matter of urgency.

And the game changes completely once an election is called. Formal pacts are superficially attractive, however they present two major difficulties: each party to the agreement must benefit; and the identity or independence of the parties involved must not be eroded. This is almost impossible to achieve. Far better for local campaigners to indicate informally how they would like preference votes to be cast, and to leave the electorate to make up their own minds.

A politics of progressive pragmatism can be developed around broad and doubtless shifting partnerships to achieve specific goals, and a continuing free for all at the ballot box. It sounds like an extremely modest aspiration. But it’s better than what we have now – and will be needed more than ever in the next few years.

 

Jenny Muir

22 March 2017

The necessity of trust

To navigate the many complex, multi-faceted problems we face in this so-called ‘post-truth’ world, a shrug of distrust is not enough. We are going to need to rely on all our accumulated knowledge and wisdom, argues Tanya Jones, in the third of our Assembly election posts.

Tanya’s feet do the talking at the Climate Justice event in Paris, December 2015

There are two kinds of stories for progressives about this year’s Assembly election. Maurice and Stephen have told two of the hopeful ones. As a candidate in the demographically knife-edge constituency of Fermanagh and South Tyrone, I’m perhaps more pessimistic. Those small green shoots pushing through the snow are undoubtedly there, but nurturing them will be a hard task.

I begin in the same place as Stephen, with Mike Nesbitt’s comments about vote transfers, which, whatever their effect upon the vote itself, apparently constituted his own political death warrant.

But what was so egregiously outrageous about what he actually said? Contrary to the impression widely given, Nesbitt did not recommend that Ulster Unionist voters give their immediate post-UUP preferences to the SDLP. He said that he intended to do so himself, but advised others only to transfer to any candidate they trusted to deliver for their “community, constituency and country”.

On the face of it, this sounds so anodyne as to be the political equivalent of a Hallmark greetings card. What other criterion could possibly have a higher priority than trust? And the ambiguous placing of ‘community’ at the head of the alliterative list even looks like a nod towards keeping those transfers largely unionist. In a Northern Ireland context, my ‘community’ might mean the village, town or suburb where I live, but it’s more likely, as Maurice discussed last week, to mean the group of people who share my religious, cultural and political preconceptions.

But, far from the yawn appropriate to Sunday afternoon platitudes, Nesbitt’s comment was greeted, even from within his own party, with howls of outrage. Here in Fermanagh and South Tyrone, the UUP was quick to distance itself, advising its voters via Twitter to transfer to other ‘pro-union’ candidates. The content of the advice is explicable, of course, in view of the unionist pact for the 2015 Westminster election which enabled Tom Elliott to overturn Michelle Gildernew’s four vote majority.   The fact that it jarred so glaringly with the rest of the overwhelmingly anti-DUP Twitter feed didn’t seem to surprise anyone.

The odd thing is that, logically, this election ought to have been about precisely the issue of trust. At the heart of the RHI scandal were a lack of transparency and a failure of good governance. It was that betrayal of citizens’ trust, along with the breakdown of trust between the two Executive parties, which caused the election in the first place. But that very soon wasn’t the issue. Neither coalition partner wanted too strong a light to be shone on any aspect of the scandal, from the secrecy of political donations to the dysfunctional relationships between departments and ministers. Instead of ‘trust’ or any of its synonyms, the buzzword chosen by Sinn Fein was ‘respect’, and that played perfectly into the DUP’s hands.

‘I don’t trust you’, is a banal statement of fact, but ‘You’re disrespecting me,’ has an edge of combined victimhood and aggression that worked both to prod nationalists towards the polling station and to goad disaffected DUP supporters back into the fold. And it worked for any issue they chose, most effectively that of the Irish language.

‘Same old, same old,’ say the weary. But there is now a new dimension to the traditional tribalism of Northern Ireland. Only ten months separated the 2016 and 2017 Assembly elections, but those ten months included both the UK’s EU referendum and the election of President Donald Trump. I’m wary of sentences that begin ‘This vote meant…’, for people voted for both Brexit and Trump in smaller numbers, and for more varied reasons than any tidy explanation allows. I think it’s safe to say, though, that a mistrust of perceived establishments, elites and experts played a large part in the rhetoric underpinning both campaigns. The fact that Trump and the triumphal triumvirate of Farage Johnson and Gove are members of all the elite and establishment groups that matter only seemed to bolster their credibility.

It’s a credibility, though, that doesn’t necessarily imply trust. A traditional political polarity will say ‘My opponent is devious, flaky and possibly corrupt, but you can rely on me.’ But these new populists present themselves as mavericks, and their indiscretions, insensitivities and worse are all presented as refreshing evidence of their salt-of-the-earthiness. ‘Follow me,’ they say. ‘I don’t know any better than you where we’re going, but we’ll find someone to kick along the way.’ It’s a style that’s easy and infectious, requiring nothing so tedious as policy, and was used in the Assembly election campaign by both right and left, with ‘Drain the Swamp’, ‘Punish Stormont’ and ‘Elect A Fighter’ prominent on our lampposts.

A post-truth world, as we are reported to be living in, is perhaps necessarily also a post-trust world.

And the implications of that are terrifying. There are times and places when it wouldn’t matter very much, where societies are chugging along much as they always have, and a bit of iconoclasm is positively healthy. Even now, there are plenty of power systems, notably the financial and military, about which we aren’t sufficiently sceptical. But to trust virtually no scientists, no politicians, no lawyers, no economists and no historians, except those who peddle our own pet conspiracy theories, is to take from ourselves every tool with which we might build a better future. And in our global village, with even the liberal media fascinated and obsessed by emergent fascism, there seems little hope of containing the infection.

We face two* huge existential threats: domestic, in the massive shadow of the looming Brexit, and global, from the increasing certainty of catastrophic climate change. (*The uncontrolled belligerence of a nuclear-armed Trump is a potential third that even I, in this gloom-ridden mood, can’t quite bring myself to mention outside parentheses.)

The almost universal response to both has been to stick our heads firmly into the sand, occasionally surfacing to shout ‘Project Fear!’ before burrowing down again. But these are not remote eventualities that might possibly occur, or benign changes that can be dealt with by business as usual, calm-down-dearie and not frightening the horses. These are complex, multi-faceted, many-tentacled problems. In order to navigate them with any kind of success at all, we will need everything we as human beings have ever learned, about science, about ethics and about our own history. To dismiss all that accumulated knowledge and wisdom in favour of a shrug of the shoulders and a gut instinct would be the final confirmation of the Age of Stupid. This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a snarky tweet.

But there are signs of hope, some of which have already been identified and explored on this site. A blind fatalism is as unhelpful as any other kind of darkness. In between writing the first and second drafts of this piece, the exit polls came in from the Dutch elections, showing a decline in support for the much-vaunted Geert Wilders and a surge for GroenLinks.   I was joyfully reminded that right-wing populism isn’t globally inevitable, that people aren’t necessarily insular and despairing and that a small patch of hope can spread a long way. And I started reading the paperback edition of Yanis Varoufakis’s And The Weak Suffer What They Must? in the foreword of which he writes of the ‘precious common ground’ shared by all those, whatever their political labels, who are ready to confront the ‘monsters … crawling out of the fault lines’.

And there are answers, at least partial ones, and dedicated, creative and informed people working hard to reach them. But it does need trust; not unthinking allegiance to any individual or institution, but a lively, questioning, thoughtful understanding of what history, science and experience can teach us, allied with a basic belief in human goodwill. It won’t be easy, but we’ve already begun, thousands of us, across the world and across the years.

Tanya Jones, 17 March 2017

A progressive agenda

Homage to the ‘Fearless Girl’ of Wall Street.

In the second of our series on the Northern Ireland Assembly elections of 2017 Stephen Baker asks if it is possible to combine progressive forces across party and denominational lines.

Mike Nesbitt’s ill-fated attempt to inspire cross-party, cross community cooperation was laudable, but it broke on the back of the conservativism of many in his party. It begs the question: would the efforts of progressives to find forms of cross-party cooperation fare any better? Maybe.

One of the great hopes of the peace process and political agreement was that it would create the space for what are euphemistically known as ‘bread and butter’ politics. But more than this, many yearned for a settlement that would open the door to the sort of progressive politics that could speak to questions of gender, sexuality, race, class and the environment – the issues that get side-lined and ignored when the public debate is dominated by communal and constitutional issues.

Almost 20 years after the signing of the Good Friday Agreement, progressives can say that they have brought something fresh to the political conversation in Northern Ireland but they can’t claim to have changed it. And now there is a grave danger that unionism, wounded by the loss of its majority, and a simultaneously emboldened nationalism, will subordinate all other political issues to their respective constitutional causes.

Nevertheless, there are plenty in the North of Ireland who, whatever their constitutional preferences, consider themselves progressives. They may for historical (and often biographical reasons) find themselves spread across a variety of political parties – parties that are not all uniformly progressive, or progressive at all. Yet if those individuals are committed to human rights, social justice, equality and environmental sustainability, then maybe the Assembly provides a space where on occasions national and party allegiance can take second place to advancing progressive causes.

A progressive agenda could include the determination to see marriage equality, the extension of the 1967 Abortion Act to Northern Ireland, repeal of anti-trade union legislation, updating the laws protecting racial and ethnic minorities and legislation around environmental protection – to build, as Maurice indicated in the previous post, the sort of place both they and others are happy to live in.

Is it conceivable that enlightened MLAs, in all parties, nationalist, unionist and other, could commit themselves to support and fight for these causes within their own constituencies, the Assembly and wider civic society?

The passage of Steven Agnew’s Children’s Services Co-operation Bill into legislation in 2015 perhaps offers a model of how a private members bill can progress through the Assembly and into law. Legislation around gender, sexuality, trade unions and the environment is going to be more controversial. But the principle of slowly building support, researching and refining the legislation is the same.

That is not to say that a progressive agenda wouldn’t face challenges. For instance, at election time cross-party cooperation will be strain by electoral competition. Also, internal party discipline may prohibit the wholehearted participation of individuals in such an agenda. And we should never underestimate the determination of conservative colleagues to scupper the best efforts, and indeed careers, of others not attuned to their own reactionary beliefs.

Some representatives may be more progressive on some issues than others – happy to promote marriage equality but drawing a line at reform of abortion legislation, for instance.

Relations between the workers’ movement and those with environmental concerns is not straightforward or without tensions. But it is worth bearing in mind that progressive politics is dependent upon solidarity – all for one and one for all!

Our capacity to advance our own concerns may be dependent upon our willingness to find common ground with others and move beyond our own ‘single issue’. And in the end, compromise may mean that we don’t all get what we want, but progressive solidarity may mean we get just enough of what we need to take the Northern Ireland forward and make it a better place to live in.

 

Stephen Baker

12 March 2017

The three communities

The most significant result of the NI Assembly Election 2017, argues Maurice Macartney, is that it marks the beginning of the end of the dominance of the ‘two communities’ model of Northern Ireland. From here on, we will have to take the ‘community of others’ into account.

The Northern Ireland Assembly election (AE17) has turned out to be a very significant event.

It was always going to be interesting, given that the number of seats in the Assembly had been reduced from 108 to 90. In a context of widespread anger over the botched RHI scheme and other scandals, the outcome was always going to be hard to call.

In the event, the DUP, whose campaign repeatedly (almost catechistically) warned of the danger of a “Gerry-Adams-Sinn-Féin-radical-agenda”, lost most, ending up with 28 seats.  That’s fully ten down on last year’s total, more than the six they would have lost had the reduction in seats been distributed evenly. Moreover, they are now only one seat ahead of Sinn Féin, who enjoyed the biggest surge in first-preference votes, numerically speaking, of any of the parties. Doubtless the DUP communications team will spin this as a ‘we told you so’ story.

However they spin it, though, having won under 30 seats, the DUP have lost their ability to veto anything they don’t like (and there’s a lot they don’t like) by means of the ‘Petition of Concern’ mechanism. They will have to rely on others if they are to block legislation that way.

And speaking of ‘others’, in my view this may prove, in the long term, the most significant development of the lot: neither unionists nor nationalists command a majority of seats in the Assembly. In other words, we no longer have a ‘majority’ and a ‘minority’ community (oh, and a few oddballs grouped under the relatively insignificant heading ‘Other’).

Politically speaking, Northern Ireland can no longer be reduced to ‘the two communities’ (and how often that misleading phrase has been repeated like a catechism). You could say Northern Ireland is now made up of three minority communities (though we’ll come back to that).

Breaking down the first preference votes won’t give the unionists their psychologically significant majority status either. By my calculation (and you can find the data here), they took about 45 per cent of first preference votes among them, if you include a few thousand for independents. SF and the SDLP took about 40 per cent – 41 per cent if you include the Workers Party and again a few thousand for independents.

But look at the parties who are avowedly neither nationalist nor unionist: for the first time, their combined support shot past the 100,000 mark – between 13 and 14 per cent of the total, even without adding any independents.

The Alliance Party must be incredibly happy to see their first preference votes surge from 48,447 last year to 72,717 (actually proportionally, though not numerically, a bigger rise than SF’s). The Green Party can be happy that, though their total first preference votes went down a bit elsewhere, they rose significantly in their two key constituencies, resulting in both their MLAs being returned, and netting a province-wide total of over 18,500 first preference votes.

AE17 in numbers

Even People Before Profit, though they lost one of their pair of MLAs, can comfort themselves that their first preference votes went up by a few hundred.

Of course all this is in the context of a bigger turnout as compared to 2016. Nonetheless, in the long term, a haul of votes of more than 108,000 for parties designating as ‘Other’ – that is, explicitly non-unionist, non-nationalist parties – is something of a milestone.

From here on, these three communities – unionists, nationalists, and the community of others – are going to have to figure out how to live as minorities together. In particular, unionists are going to have to recognise that, having lost majority status, if they are to succeed in their own aim of defending the union, they will have to pay heed to the aims of those for whom the question of the border is not the overriding priority.  They will have to learn to make Northern Ireland the sort of place the community of others are happy to live in, and that nationalists do not feel alienated by. And of course something similar can be said for nationalists.

The community of others, having been marginalised for decades simply for trying to hold open a space beyond the ‘two communities’ conflict, at last has a little leverage.

The sort of elbows-out politics, the obstinate insistence that ‘majority community’ status confers the right to dominance, aside from being a basic misunderstanding of democracy from the outset, simply will not work where you are not in a clear majority. And as the community of others continues to grow it is bound to inject a new dynamic into our politics. Doubtless some will react with hostility to that new dynamic – so it will be important for the ‘others’ to be open and respectful, ready to listen to, and work with unionists (or indeed nationalists) to address real problems. But then, openness and respect for difference is what the community of others is all about, or ought to be. Diversity, otherness, is at the heart of such a community. Indeed, it is what all community as such is, or ought to be, about.

Truth to tell, there has always been a community of others in Northern Ireland, or indeed many such communities – LGBTQ, feminist, disabled, environmentalist, minority ethnic groups, other religious groups, and many more; people whose key priorities are not defined by national ‘allegiance’, but by a desire to live in a society of equals, where health care, education, decent, sustainable jobs are the main issues.

There never were two and only two communities, no matter what endless news reports, academic studies and official forms told us. There were and are many communities coming into existence, evolving, dissolving, merging, emerging.

Because a community is not a group of people who are all the same. Community is what happens when different people get together.

Maybe, just maybe, the results of this election will provide an opportunity for us to learn, for all our differences, to live as a whole collage of minorities together.

Maurice Macartney

6 March 2017

(Updated 7 March 2017)