The Union of Dumb Amateurs

 

The Union of Dumb Amateurs

I was born in the old Duke Street hospital more years ago than I care to remember. Today, the remnants of the former hospital sit boarded up, empty and somewhat forlorn beside a Lidl store. Built in 1904 in the days before the NHS as a Poor Law hospital, it sits today like relic of times gone past and only its grade B listing has stopped the bulldozers sweeping it away as they have with so much of Glasgow’s history. Each time I walk around the east end of Glasgow, I can’t help but think of incidents and people from days long gone. It’s filled with memories and the ghosts of the past hang heavy in the air.

On a quiet Sunday morning, I took a long lockdown walk through the east end and had one of those odd experiences you only get in the ‘dear green place.’ I strolled down Abercromby Street picturing in my mind the old black tenement building I lived in as a boy. I thought of a football match in the back court amid the debris of a decaying city when I slid in for a tackle only to slash my leg on some broken glass which was lying around. I still bear the scar from that day so long ago. Opposite my tenement home was St Mary’s church and the old school behind it with the boys’ playground on the roof. I recalled during one playtime football match accidently kicking the ball over the rooftop railings where it plummeted into the girls’ playground below. That was game over and I wasn’t too popular that day.

I reached the junction of Abercromby Street and the London Road, thinking I would walk around Glasgow Green when something caught my attention. I could hear what sounded like someone making a speech and people roaring approval. So instead of heading to the Green, I turned left and headed towards Bridgeton Cross. The speech continued but the Sunday morning streets were deserted. The puzzle was solved when I realised that someone had their first-floor flat window open and was blasting out what sounded like Ian Paisley at his roaring best. The old firebrand Minister, who had something of a conversion late in life to the peace process, was roaring out, ‘Never, never, never!’  It seemed like I had stepped back in history 50 years or more. A man in a Rangers top was at the window and clearly still merry from celebrating his side’s deserved championship win. He was shouting out some tired old sectarian slogans to no one in particular as a rather bemused old chap walking his dog completely ignored him. A police van was parked across the road, although the officers seemed more concerned with what they were getting out of Greggs than the bizarre display going on 50 yards away.

As I passed, Dr Paisley stopped ranting, the virtually empty street was treated to a song with the line ‘we are the men of the UDA.’ Of course, that part of town has some history of people being involved in supporting the loyalist cause during the troubles. Indeed, some less cerebral types actually planted bombs in ‘Irish’ bars in Glasgow causing some severe injuries. The Police of the time infiltrated them easily enough and some lengthy sentences were handed out. One senior officer of the time referred to the Glasgow UDA as the ‘Union of Dumb Amateurs.’ In one piece of black comedy, they hid explosives in an oven in a loyalist club. During a dance, someone put on the oven to heat up some pies and literally blew up the club.

Those dark old days are long gone, hopefully forever, but for some, a sense of community and identity is still sought in old paradigms of Loyalist and republican, old antagonisms of orange and green but the vast majority of Scots have never had much interest in such things and of those who did, most have left it in the past. It was odd seeing that chap at his window, addled with drink and going through his empty rituals like an outdated performer in an empty theatre. It would be easy for those of us who don’t share his outlook on life to simply dismiss him as an outmoded crank or deranged bigot but that is to fail to get to the root of issue.

Prejudice thrives in ignorance and poverty and dealing with those things as a society is the first step to alleviating it. Research suggests that the bond between people who hate the same thing is often stronger than when they like the same thing. There is bonding among groups who are opposed to others and the scapegoat they target is often a projection of their own fears and insecurities. One article on group dynamics in society said…

‘Humans desire structure and certainty in their social lives. To establish that, people naturally divide into in-groups (social circles where everyone feel like they belong with one another) and out-groups (people who exist outside of social circles and are typically not welcomed into them). When people declare their dislike for others, it helps people understand the boundaries between social circles. This is a powerful motivator for people to form bonds because it satisfies their need to feel connected to others.’

The man at the window was perhaps not so much ranting to offend those in the group he dislikes but rather to signal to others who think like him that he belongs in their group. A more cohesive and perhaps fairer society could develop from dealing with poverty and ignorance and helping people feel part of a greater whole. Too many are left behind and left to wallow in ignorance and look for someone to blame. It may be counter intuitive, especially if you are on the receiving end of the abuse such folk dish out, but they really are to be pitied rather than hated. It can be hugely difficult to escape the conditioning we endure as children. Hatred is often learned at our daddy’s knee and those attitudes, once embedded, are hard to shift.

I continued my walk, leaving the man at the window shouting, ‘we are the people,’ at a world that wasn’t listening. It seemed such a waste of a life to spend your days trapped in the prison of ignorance without realising the doors are unlocked. Some people isolate themselves from contact with the group they claim to hate and that failure to see them as people like themselves can lead to a cycle of stereotyping which perpetuates their prejudice.

A few years ago, as part of the peace process in the north of Ireland, former IRA men met former British soldiers to reconcile their views of the past. One former soldier said of the encounter…

“There was an element of fear there and, I have to be honest, a bit of mistrust,” he said. “I had never met a republican before except when I was on operational duties with the army, which is quite shocking really. I was taken aback by their hospitality and, for want of a better word, their normality, and they weren’t aggressive to me. They had a good point to make which was easily understood once I sat and listened: why they were involved in the armed conflict.  Initially, I didn’t tell them very much. I was guarded. But it didn’t take long to come around. Their story is not really much different from our story as soldiers. I think the key to the reconciliation process is listening.”

One former IRA man who took part in the encounter said…

“It’s important to listen to their stories, to get an understanding of what they were actually going through and also the effect that the conflict has had upon them. People who were involved in the conflict have a responsibility to attempt to rebuild society, to ensure that our children’s future is not our past”.

Here in Scotland, I hope the new generation sees past the out-dated squabbles of yesterday and builds a better country where everyone has a stake. Where we are all ‘the people’ regardless of faith, ethnicity, politics or any other construct made up in our minds. As Maya Angelou once said….

‘Hate has caused a lot of problems in this world but it has not solved one yet.’