David Ervine

Sitting behind a large desk in his shabby, bullet-proofed constituency office on east Belfast’s Newtownards Road, David Ervine is telling me a joke. “This famous super-Prod politician has an accident and falls into a coma. He stays in the coma for a couple of months. When he finally wakes up, his famous son is sitting by his bedside. And, of course, he immediately asks about all the things that have happened while he’s been unconscious. But the main thing he wants to know is, ‘How did the Blues [Linfield] do, son?’ And the son says, ‘Well, they’ve done really well, Da, and they’ve won the cup! But there’s a bit of bad news.’ ‘What’s that, son?’ he asks. ‘Well, Da,’ the son says, ‘they beat Kerry by one goal and eight points!’.”

To my immense shame, not being a sports fan, it takes me a couple of moments to get it. “Oh right, you mean the Sam MacGuire cup,” I eventually say. The new leader of the Progressive Unionist Party doesn’t look particularly surprised. In fact, he takes the full blame for my ignorance. “Sorry about that,” he smiles, brown eyes twinkling as he lights up his trademark pipe. “It’s probably my fault. I’m not that great at telling jokes.”

This is forgivable. Life in Northern Ireland at the moment is hardly a barrel of laughs – especially for a loyalist politician. It’s Thursday, September 26, and this morning’s papers are full of the news that Johnny “Mad Dog” Adair has just been unceremoniously expelled from the UDA; that two alleged UVF members have just been convicted in a Glasgow Court on charges of smuggling explosives; and of course that David Trimble and the UUP are still threatening to collapse the North’s power-sharing administration if the IRA hasn’t both disarmed and disbanded by January. Against this grim backdrop, jokes are hardly appropriate. But, then again, I had asked him to tell me one.

I’m here ostensibly to discuss Uncharted Waters, Henry Sinnerton’s just-published biography of Ervine – a man about whom Senator George Mitchell once said, “There is not a more impressive politician in Northern Ireland.” The book tells the story of the 49-year-old loyalist’s progress from the working-class estates of east Belfast, through his youthful membership of the UVF, his conviction in 1974 on explosives charges, his time served under the stewardship of Gusty Spence in Long Kesh, and his subsequent political career. First standing as a PUP candidate in local council elections in 1985, he became a Member of the Legislative Assembly (MLA) in July 1998. He became party leader earlier this year.

OLAF TYARANSEN: Are you happy with your biography?

DAVID ERVINE: I think I’m the wrong person to ask. I don’t know that when you’re reading about yourself you can make a reasonable judgement. What I am told from my wife, right through to others – and indeed other journalists – is that it’s very easily read.

OT: I must admit, after a while, my mind got somewhat frazzled by all the acronyms – PUP, DUP, UUP, UKUP and so on.

DE: What you’ll find is that there’s lots of P’s within Unionism, and very few conveniences (smiles). But some people that I’ve spoken to seem to think that it’s an easily read book, and that it does carry a story with it.

OT: What’s your relationship with the author?

DE: Henry Sinnerton was my former French teacher. He arrived here one day and said, “I really like what you’re doing. I think what you’re trying to do is reinvigorate socialist policies within the Unionist community.” Henry had come from a Northern Ireland Labour Party background. So he said he’d like to write a book. I said, “Go for it,” and he said, “It’s not as easy as that – will you co-operate?” So I agreed.

OT: There’s a lot that the book hints at but doesn’t explicitly say, particularly when it comes to your dealings with the Irish government in the mid-1990’s.

DE: I’m certain that what has been told in the book indicates that there were things going on… (pauses). I believe that some of those things are still raw and it would be foolish, for the sake of someone desiring it, to offer out information that would be destabilising.

OT: What’s your reaction to the convictions of alleged UVF members Donald Reid and Robert Baird on explosives charges in Glasgow yesterday?

DE: Unfortunately, it doesn’t surprise me at all. I’m inclined to believe that what we saw was a degree of opportunism, as opposed to a process of procurement. I would argue that it was a sting. So therefore they may well have been offered material by people whom one would never expect to offer it – in other words, the security services.

OT: Still, whether they were set up or not, surely the fact that they took the bait indicates something.

DE: It indicates a mood music. I’d love to say it was different, but we did have Colombia and we did have Florida – and there are symbolic gestures that indicate the war is over, but the Provos won’t say the war is over. I mean, that’s not meant to be an excuse. But Billy Hutchinson and I are both on record that the UVF were arming. I think one of the UVF battalions actually said it themselves. So I’m dismayed, in that we haven’t created conditions where we’ve marched people along that democratic path away from the weapons. I think that has to be an issue of concern.

It’s not just looking at the broad spectrum of our political nightmare in Northern Ireland. We’re talking about individuals who died. Young people have died and their blood and brains landed on the street. That is much more what should focus our attention than the broad spectrum of politics, when we think about armed groups. Because they inflict awful circumstances.

You know, one of the things that I’m certain that people like Adams and I are destined for – if we live long enough – is to be smitten by what I call the ‘De Valera syndrome’. That there is a choice to make at some point. That as we try to democratise, we’re faced with the choice that we defend democracy or stay with your friends. And I think that will come. I think it’s coming.

OT|: What affect will Johnny Adair being expelled from the UDA have on the current situation?

DE: I think it’s very hard to read at the moment. It’s something that I and my party have tried to stay out of, for no other reason than there would be those who would like to make us an enemy – again, I think that organisation has gone through some terrible trauma.

OT: It’s a drug thing though, isn’t it?

DE: Not for all of them. For many at that leadership level it is, but not all of them. I think that there’s been a helplessness among some of them, but it seems they’re prepared no longer to be helpless. And they’re making such a determination that… (pauses). It’s not a politics that I need to get involved in, that commentary about people who have the most thin of skins. It’s not necessarily wise for the already unstable circumstances within loyalism.

OT: So you don’t want to comment?

DE: No.

OT: Are you still in danger on a daily basis?

DE: It’s not a 24-hour concern but it is a concern when I’m entering or leaving a building or getting into a car or leaving a car. I think we all – those of us who have gone through that – it never leaves the back of your mind that there is a potential threat.

OT: I walked into your constituency office completely unhindered. I could’ve had a gun in my briefcase.

DE: Well, you’ll notice I wasn’t here when you walked in (chuckles). No, at the end of the day you can take reasonable precautions. But it is bullet-proofed. All these windows are bullet-proofed. The picture window is deceiving. It’s something you have to live with. I worry more about my family than directly about myself. I am cautious, but not overly-cautious. At what point do you allow your style to be cramped? I don’t have bodyguards, I don’t live my life that way, I don’t want to be constrained that way.

OT: The book doesn’t go into detail about your family, but there’s obviously a strain. Didn’t your son Mark get arrested for being drunk and disorderly in the Republic a few weeks ago?

DE: Mark could have autism, he could have some form of debilitating illness, he could’ve been hurt or killed in a car accident. I think on a scale from one to ten this doesn’t register that highly. Nevertheless, it’s something that I wish – and I know that he wishes – hadn’t happened. It is a case that will come to court and therefore I think that we have to be careful of the degree of commentary we make about it. But Mark is 30. He’s hardly a shrinking violet.

OT: It seems to happen to a lot of politicians – Jack Straw’s son, Blair’s son, Bush’s daughters…

DE: It happens a lot with people. They don’t all achieve the front page. But nevertheless that’s the burden that we all carry. And, unfortunately, it’s a burden that my children carry.

OT: What’s your opinion of John Reid?

DE: I’d rather measure John Reid with Mo Mowlam and Peter Mandelson and I think he’s a cross between both of them, in that he’s very exact, as we expected from Mandelson, and he’s very warm, as we expected from Mowlam. He’s someone, I think, with whom you can do business. The difficulty that British and Irish governments have is that they’re suckers for those who’re in greatest need – or those who tell them that they’re in greatest need, whether it’s Gerry Adams one day or David Trimble the next.

OT: How do you mean?

DE: I think they’ve opened their doors much too wide. That amalgam that we forged in the Good Friday Agreement in some ways has been lost. We don’t operate collectivism – therefore the vision, the dream, the vehicle is not functioning. And that’s a big mistake. I also think that any Secretary of State who has the petulance of Trimble to deal with will find that more time is demanded from the Prime Minister by Trimble than from the Secretary of State, and I think that’s a mistake. Every time you go to the British PM to bolster you, you weaken yourself. I fear that Mr. Trimble hasn’t seen that.

OT: Isn’t he just playing that old game of demand what you know you can’t have…

DE: And then get upset when you can’t have it! Well, of course, all sides play that. 20% of our representative politics is not convinced that policing has changed, and behave in a rather unreasonable and selfish manner to tell us all. So we can see that both sides play that game. The truth of the matter is that you cannot have what you want in a divided society, but you must have what you need. In order to shake out the wants from the needs, there is a requirement for constant dialogue and I would argue that process of collectivism. All of those visionaries who created the Good Friday Agreement would be better off together as opposed to standing isolated within communities that can bite their ankles.

OT: Do you think people in the Republic understand the idea?

DE: Essentially I think that the dawning has not yet arrived for many in the Republic of Ireland that you’ve given me a say in part of your life, but you thought somehow or other that you were just gonna have a say in mine. And also that we’re competitors in some fields, which is interesting.

OT: Which fields would those be?

DE: Well, I’ll give you a little example. It’s estimated that for every 25 tourists who visited the Republic – this is pre-September 11 – one out of that 25 came North. So there’s a larger pot for us to search for and take advantage of. I wonder will the tourism minister of the Republic like it when we’ve got you down to 18 or 15 or 14? Not because we would wish that they don’t go to the Irish Republic, but it’ll be our job to lure them here for our economy and for our people’s employment. And that’s pretty logical stuff.

Nevertheless I think that the concept of cross border relationships is vital – and in the context of a European Union, even more vital. The truth of the matter is that the process of partnership is actually a healing process. In some respect, in the words of Van Morrison, the healing has begun, even though we’re in debilitating and difficult times.

OT: Are you a music fan?

DE: Yes and no. I’m not an aficionado of any form of music. If I’m writing on my computer, I’ll slip in a Chopin CD. But if I was to be asked specifically what music or artist I like best, I’d probably say Van Morrison. I’m also pretty fond of The Eagles.

OT: Do you ever dance?

DE: I’m forced to dance. My wife likes to dance if we’re ever out, so therefore I’m usually forced to dance whether I want to or not. Did you not know that tough guys don’t dance? But not according to my wife (laughs).

OT: You had a reputation as a bit of a scrapper when you were younger. When was the last time you hit somebody?

DE: Ah! You’ve gotta understand that I’m virtually the same size now as I was when I was 14. So I was huge in comparison to the kids around me. So I think that might have something to do with the myth (laughs). I’ve got friends who’re two or three inches taller than me and they still call me Big Davey. But it’s been a long time since I punched somebody. I just can’t see myself being physical. I’m getting old. I hope I never get myself in the situation that John Prescott got himself into. But maybe instinct would just take over.

OT: Do you drink?

DE: Oh, yeah. Usually my forte is Guinness – I drink pints of Guinness and I love them maybe too much.

OT: Do you get drunk often?

DE: No. You could talk to my family and friends and I don’t think, since my teenage years, anyone’s ever seen me drunk. Not because I’m protective of myself but I think there comes a time when my stomach tells me that I’ve had enough before my head does. Three or four pints and I wanna go home. Maybe I’m getting old. I don’t go for spirits very much at all, although if I were sitting on the balcony of some hotel somewhere, looking across at beautiful scenery, as one might do on holiday, I might have a gin and tonic to relax.

But I love my pints of Guinness. That was one of the big disappointments about losing my anonymity in Dublin, because nothing pleased me better than being in Madigan’s, McDaid’s or Mulligan’s of Poolbeg Street and getting the best pint of Guinness in the world. By the way, I won’t drink Guinness off the island. If I go anywhere I’ll drink the local beer. If I go for a couple of days to Britain, I find myself being acclimatised to the beer just as it’s time to go home.

OT: Have you ever taken any drugs?

DE: Absolutely not, I’ve never tried any. In some ways I find myself in a bit of a difficult position. I’ve never tried drugs of any kind, shape or form – except alcohol, of course, which is a drug, and tobacco, I smoke my pipe – but I’m not sure what people talk about when they’re on a trip. But I can see the damage that it does to people. And not just to people who’re directly involved in the taking of drugs, but also their families.

OT: There’s a huge tranquilliser problem in the North, isn’t there?

DE: Absolutely, and all kinds of tranquillisers have been the mainstay of communities – especially those that are very troubled communities. I think that’s something we have to look at. I would argue in the words of Ramon Kapur, who’s a clinical psychologist in Northern Ireland, that we are a people with a troubled mind. And I don’t mean individuals, I mean all of us. We’re all affected hugely by the sadness that pervades us.

OT: The British government seem to be making gradual moves towards the legalisation of cannabis. Will that apply over here if it happens?

DE: One would expect that it might do. I’m not necessarily opposed to that.

OT: How do you feel about the legalisation of harder drugs?

DE: There are those who say that the criminalisation of hard drugs guarantees an extremely lucrative circumstance for the gangsters. I think we need to look at that. It is the year 2002. We’ve stumbled and fallen through policy and decision-making about these issues and I really do think we need to understand it much better. I’m hugely castigating of drug dealers and cartels, but I also see those who take drugs as victims. I know from my experiences in hostelries that there is a huge degree of escapism required for the pain these people feel. There’s no doubt in my mind that that’s what the idea of drugs is for many.

In picking up the pieces we perhaps need to do a bit of accountancy work. It’s costing us millions and millions, and that’s why we need a debate. That’s why we need to sit down and work out is there a wisdom in criminalisation of the addict or do we need to do other things? Do we need to make sure that we fend off the possibilities of AIDS by being much more proactive?

Accountants rule nowadays, don’t they? Whether it’s our hospitals or our schools or wherever. So I would ask, let’s do a little accountancy practice here. We have to address these issues from the ground up, from the child’s upbringing, from the child’s education, from the hopelessness and helplessness of the alienation and apathy that reigns supreme in parts of Dublin as much as it does in parts of Belfast.

OT: What was your reaction to the events of September 11?

DE: One could not be unaffected by the awful circumstances of September 11. I thought that paramilitarists in Northern Ireland might look at that and say, ‘Well, you know, that’s a bridge too far’ – but I’m afraid that for some, whether they’ve just been arrested trying to smuggle explosives in one direction or another, it tells us that we’re not there yet. That it hasn’t made the huge impact that it needed to make on us accepting and acknowledging that terrorism is not an option.

OT: As a former paramilitary yourself, do you feel you have a better insight into the mind of a terrorist?

DE: I think that we in the West make huge mistakes when we talk about the civilised world. What does that mean? I remember being a kid and we used to have a shout that went, ‘We are the people!’ Of course, I was a kid and I didn’t work out and I didn’t understand that that meant that somebody else wasn’t. So when we in the western society call ourselves the ‘civilised world’, are we sure we know what we’re talking about? Are we sure we’re confident enough that we know what we’re doing to others who don’t live in our area? And that this sense of pomposity and rightness is something I think that the West suffers for and is at the core of why there is the degree of terrorism that seems to emanate around the Arab nations.

OT: How does Bush compare to Clinton in terms of the Northern situation?

DE: I’ve only met Bush in perfunctory circumstances in the White House, although I’m obviously affected by the public utterances. I think Clinton was visionary. I’m not sure that Bush is. I don’t want to be hard on him, but I truly do not trust what I consider to be that right wing American attitude. It smacks of superiority. And you can’t have a concept of superiority without also having a conjoined concept of inferiority. And I’m quite sickened by the whole moral attitude of people who swamped not only their own communities with drugs, but also Nicaragua, Asia and other places. Western societies’ governments have done some bloody awful things.

OT: Going back to the book, southern politicians don’t come out of it particularly well. Most especially David Andrews, who stupidly offered to develop a heritage centre for Orangemen on the site of the Battle of the Boyne as a sop to your party.

DE: Andrews is actually quite a decent man. I like him in personal terms, but he was a lazy leader. In fairness, I don’t think it was a question of him being a bad man, I think it was a question of his lack of understanding of us. And that, by the way, runs very deep in the Republic of Ireland. Many people will say, ‘By Jazus boy, didn’t you always know that fella Ervine was one of us’. That’s a mistake. I don’t feel alien in the Republic, I don’t feel alien with people who have a vision that is different from mine, but that doesn’t mean I’m one of them. There is a naiveté about Unionism.

OT: And about Loyalism.

DE: Loyalism is unionism. Let me tell you, the word ‘loyalism’ was invented by constitutional unionist politicians to distance themselves from what they saw were the physical excesses of the working class. That’s what happened. Meanwhile back at the ranch they were pretty good at manipulating that working class and indeed talking out of the sides of their mouths to paramilitary leaders – while, of course, you couldn’t talk to such evil people. Smoke filled rooms and dark corridors were often the meeting places of paramilitarists and constitutional politicians. The hypocrisy of these bastards is incredible. Excuse my language.

OT: Still, you can’t blame them completely for loyalist paramilitary activity.

DE: Loyalism has itself to blame in some respects. But there’s also the seeds of how we lived our lives and how the Protestant faith functioned. It was tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor, rich man, poor man, beggar man – and each had their job, society was dichotomised in that respect. You know, that he goes into politics, he makes the profit and I do the work. That was how it was up until relatively recent times. It’s begun to change somewhat. Unionists themselves are becoming much more bolshy in their response, not simply to the enemies of republicanism or nationalism, but within.

OT: Do you see that as a good thing?

DE: That’s not bad news, that’s good news. Because that’s the one single thing we require – debate among us and challenges among us. My sense is that we are misunderstood but we create circumstances where we’re easily misunderstood. I remember writing an article not that long ago where I said that ‘Northern Ireland on fire doesn’t have the same ring as Mississippi burning’. But there are huge similarities in terms of manipulation and the simple perception that working class Protestants are the equivalent of poor white trash. I think that’s a tragedy and something we need to work tigerishly and feverishly to change.

The truth of the matter is that 1% of the children in the area that you now sit will go on to further and higher education – 1%! If that’s not an indictment of the failure of our politics then I don’t know what is. We’ve got a generation to turn it around. It will take resources, it will take ideas, it will take effort, and it will take a holistic approach to the things that are wrong within this society. And yet, what we see is a couple of sets of Tories – the SDLP and the Ulster Unionists – tinkering with the mechanisms.

OT: What’s your reaction to the myriad corruption scandals in the Republic?

DE: I think they’re great news. Many Unionists think it’s a good idea because it offers pain to the people of the Irish Republic. I think that what we’ve seen is a coming of age. I think that the corruption scandals show a society no longer prepared to operate by brushing things under the carpet. It must be very painful, frustrating and annoying but I actually think it’s good news for the people of the Irish Republic in that that is the society coming of age, where no issue diminishes your Irishness. Let’s not tell the world because we’re ashamed or whatever. I think it is a coming of age. And those Unionists who are foolish enough to think, ‘Oh, it’s great that they’re having a bit of pain, they’re corrupt, look at them,’ – I think that’s a very foolish position.

OT: Are there similar levels of corruption up here?

DE: Of course. Well, I think your guys are more into grand larceny, people here are probably into a bit of petty larceny.

OT: Do you think that power corrupts?

DE: I think that power can corrupt, yeah. You know the old saying – power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. I think there’s some truth in that but the formula of power in Northern Ireland is quite interesting. It’s enforced coalition with murderers, and with microscopes being shone into every corner. We should develop into an extremely open society eventually.

OT: How long do you think that will take?

DE: Not long. Two terms.

OT: What’s your opinion of Tony Blair?

DE: I personally get on well with Tony Blair. I think that he’s a very amenable and personable man. I do think that that group that surrounds him are control freaks. I think that’s probably one of the most detrimental things one can say about Blair and his regime – they’re control freaks. They’re Sinn Fein with charm.

OT: How do you get along with Gerry Adams?

DE: In terms of doing our business – ok. We’re not uncivil to each other. I don’t see the point.

OT: Do you admire him?

DE: I think there has to be an element of respect that says this is a difficult and huge mantle to carry. We may disagree about how he carries it at times but nonetheless we have to look at the fact that the absence of structured violence did not happen by accident. That there is an engine that drives the republican movement in a specific direction and he’s undoubtedly part of that, and there is for me an appreciation of the talent and ability that exists there.

OT: When was the last time you cried?

DE: Em… (long pause). I’m not really sure. It’s a while now. I think I was pretty close to it when a young boy, Gavin Brett, was murdered in North Belfast, sitting with his friends – some of whom were Catholic. He was shot dead for no other reason other than that some scumbag wanted to make a statement. And I watched the dignity of his parents. Then there was that young postman Danny MacColgan – shot dead on his way to work, leaving a wee wife sitting at home. And there have been others. They would bring me to the point of tears.

OT: Do you ever feel like just giving up?

DE: I refuse to believe that we’re beaten, that we can’t have peace. But at times I’m human and I feel the dismay. Bertie Rice, murdered as part of a feud – he ran the constituency office for Billy Hutchinson. Richard Jameson – murdered in Portadown because he was pro-agreement. Those have taken big tolls in terms of emotion. But maybe people like us are not allowed that emotion because it clouds our judgement and further destabilises the situation.

OT: Do you think decommissioning will happen by Trimble’s January deadline?

DE: I think decommissioning is a waste of time. Give my head peace! But I think that decommissioning was a barrier created at one point – not by Trimble but by other elements within Unionism – not in the belief that it could be done, but with the guarantee that it couldn’t be done.

OT: So what’s to be done?

DE: People have to accept their own complicity. We know that sectarianism existed before there were paramilitaries. We know that discrimination took place before there were paramilitaries. So are we really saying that if all of these bad people – i.e. the paramilitaries – would go away, what a wonderful little place this would be?

And yet there’s no question that the excesses by paramilitaries leave us in a Never Never Land. You know that it isn’t as bad as it was but by goodness they’re rumbling in the background there. And we’ve gotta get that stopped. We’ve gotta give society back to the people. But I don’t know that you can do that overnight, I don’t know that you can do that with a snap of the fingers. And I certainly know that you can’t do it by demanding of your enemy the one thing that – because you’ve demanded it – they can’t give.