Post by Wasp on Mar 12, 2008 23:13:19 GMT
Ian Paisley — a man of many complexities
(by Suzanne Breen, Sunday Tribune)
Offensive, yet charming, bigoted yet welcoming, fundamentalist yet progressive. With Ian Paisley, nothing is ever straightforward. Suzanne Breen, Northern Editor, reports on the Paisley she knew.
We didn't get off to the best of starts. I first met Ian Paisley canvassing in a field at an agricultural fair in the loyalist heartland of Ballymoney. "This is a journalist from a Dublin newspaper," he declared as all eyes fell on the 'foreign' reporter. "She's here to write propaganda for the enemies of Ulster!"
I retorted that Paisley territory must be very vulnerable indeed when it needed defending against a solitary female writer from the 'other' side. The Big Man glared at me. And then he broke into loud guffaws of laughter. "You're very welcome!" he said, and there followed a hearty handshake and 14 years of craic and confidences.
He'd often reminisce about his beginnings as a young preacher, crossing the countryside to address small gatherings in mission halls. He'd been nervous and jittery then. Now, in old age, they weren't able to shut him up.
I disagree with the position Paisley has taken on just about everything over the years – from civil rights to civic partnerships. I've met many people who believe his oratory encouraged and gave cover to loyalist paramilitaries. Just recently, Billy McDowell, horrifically injured in the IRA's La Mon bombing, said that after listening to Paisley in his early years, his instinct was to go out and join a terrorist organisation.
And yet, on a personal level, I never found Paisley sectarian. He was always straight and honourable in his dealings with me. He has more charisma than every other politician under Stormont's roof combined. On an election canvass you could see it wasn't just an 'X' on a ballot paper he secured, it was a place in unionists' hearts.
He'd bump into someone on the street he hadn't seen for 20 years and he'd recall the most insignificant detail of their last meeting, and they'd remember it too. No encounter with the Big Man was ever forgotten. Even if some have become disillusioned with him over his relationship with Martin McGuinness, his charm means he has avoided the opprobrium on the streets that plagued David Trimble.
He once denounced McGuinness as 'the Butcher of the Bogside'. The u-turn must be hard for his followers to stomach. But nobody should be surprised at Paisley's amicable relationship with the Deputy First Minister. Once he decided to enter government with Sinn Féin, it was never going to be half-hearted. There's nothing petty about Paisley. He smiles and jokes with McGuinness because that is what he does with those around him.
Paisley's comments about individuals' personal behaviour or looks – Brian Cowen's thick lips, for instance – have offended many over the years. But if he gives abuse, he can take it too. When he accuses you of having been on "the devil's buttermilk" if you're five minutes late for a press conference, it's his attempt at humour.
Paisley's oldest friend in the House of Commons isn't some right-wing Tory as might be expected but Tony Benn, even though "he's a bit of a republican". I've always found that, on a one-to-one basis, Paisley never really cared what your political viewpoint was as long as you were genuine. Those he despised were the "paper men – men of no opinion, men who stand for nothing".
Some of Paisley's statements on women have been breathtakingly non-politically correct. "When you meet a devil wearing trousers it's bad, but a devil wearing a skirt is 10 times worse," is a favourite saying. Yet this is a man who treats the women in his life with huge respect. He was content for Eileen to omit the obedience pledge from their wedding vows – a radical step in the 1950s.
"I never wanted a submissive wife. I wanted a woman I could talk to, an equal, and she is much more than my equal," he says. Anyone who has witnessed them together sees the real affection and admiration he has for her: she is not just the wife on the arm for the photo opportunity.
Despite his religious fundamentalism, he speaks of Eileen not in tones of anaemic domesticity but in a passionate, physical way. Even in his 80s, he still leaves surprise presents under her pillow. Ask the Paisley children about growing up and you'd expect tales of rigid discipline. Instead, you'll hear Ian jnr recall Saturday mornings "watching TV on the sofa with Da, munching wine gums and liquorice allsorts".
Renowned publicly for his bluntness and bombast, colleagues too speak of this more tender private side. "The night he resigned, I phoned him to congratulate him on his very dignified TV interview," says DUP Environment Minister and ex-Ulster Unionist, Arlene Foster.
"Even in these circumstances, he immediately asked how my three children were – he knows all their names – and how my husband Brian was. He hoped they weren't too annoyed at him for giving me all the work that keeps me away from home so much. David Trimble wouldn't even have known I had kids, never mind their names. Ian never sees us as robots there for him and the DUP. He acknowledges us as human beings with lives outside politics."
MP Sammy Wilson, one of the DUP's bolshier members, says: "Doc has always been very protective of us, treating us like family. I've been on the rough end of his tongue more than anybody. There's been numerous doors slammed and tables banged and I'd sometimes sit laughing which made it worse.
"But he never held a grudge. The next day it would be forgotten. Sometimes, he just didn't know how to handle what he viewed as bad behaviour. I remember him bouncing with anger at me once but all he could think of saying was 'And you went and did this Sammy when I bought you a Chinese last week!'"
Wilson recalls other humorous moments: "We went down to Dublin in the dead of night as part of the DUP's 'Hands off the UDR' campaign. I'd brought the wrong map and we were driving around lost for ages. It was after midnight when we finally found the Dáil. We had cameras with us.
"Doc marches up to a wee guard outside and says, 'Is the tee-shock in?' expecting the Taoiseach to arrive down in his pyjamas to meet us. The guard says 'No' so Doc pulls out one of our UDR posters, thrusts it into the wee man's hands, and somebody starts taking photos of this shell-shocked guard clutching a loyalist placard. Then Doc says, 'Do you want me to sign that poster?'"
Another colleague recalls Paisley's irrepressible optimism: "After our poor result in the 1998 referendum on the Good Friday Agreement, everybody was down – Peter, Nigel, the entire leadership. The only person not deflated was Doc. He kept this incredibly positive outlook and it helped carry us through.
"His judgement has weakened in recent years but when I saw how he handled himself in his resignation TV interview, despite all the pressure he was under, I remembered the man he was. The secret of class is, when you're driven out of town, to make it look like you're leading the parade."
A fellow Protestant preacher says Paisley must be judged on his performance in both the public and private arenas: "He models himself not on Carson or Luther but on CH Spurgeon, the Victorian preacher. Spurgeon was lauded because he was as great at the bedside of a dying boy as he was preaching to 6,000 people on a Sunday. Ian Paisley is the same."
DUP Assembly member, Jim Wells, agrees: "We were canvassing in South Down once and Doc was hand-shaking and ranting and enjoying himself when we heard of a dying man at a farm in Rathfriland. Doc said we should go up immediately.
"The man was called Trimble and Doc said to him, 'I terrorise one Trimble so it's only right I give support to another!'.He lightened the situation as nobody else could. Then he sat and read the bible and prayed with the man. It was very moving."
Not that colleagues portray Paisley as a saint. "He's always been well able to look after himself," says one. "You'd find people sucking up to him, hoping to use him for some purpose, but he'd end up taking them for a ride. He was no Father Christmas."
Although Paisley will continue as an MP and Assembly member, he will have more time on his hands after he steps down as DUP leader in May. It's hard to see him taking to gardening or the golf course. He'll probably spend the time with Eileen and his 10 grandchildren, and reading the Bible. Already author of several religious booklets, he will surely pen more.
The DUP will organise a series of events to celebrate his leadership and ensure he leaves on a high. "As the dust settles, a lot of personal sympathy for him will return and it will be a fond farewell," predicts one insider.
An ex-colleague wonders if, whatever his public demeanour, Paisley will be privately resentful: "He's not stupid, he knows the manoeuvrings that went on behind the scenes. He'll look around the room and see certain individuals heaping praise on him and know they're thinking 'thank God, he's going'. And he'll think, 'I made them all. They'd be nothing without me.'"
Certainly, Paisley will realise that, amidst all the speculation about his future in recent weeks, the only person who publicly said he should stay was his wife. Some colleagues fear he will become bitter on reflection. Others believe that's not in his make-up. "He will find comfort in religion," believes one DUP insider. "He'll say 'Such is life. Didn't they nail my Lord to the cross?'"
But will he miss the trappings of power? He will be leaving the splendour of his Stormont Castle office, and he is no longer Free Presbyterian moderator, just an ordinary minister. Some believe had he retained the church position, it would have cushioned the blow. Others reckon he will be fine regardless.
"At the heart of every Protestant evangelical minister is almost a desire to lose, to be on the outside, up against the rest of the world, the prophet in the wilderness," a colleague asserts. "If Ian ends his days preaching to a dozen folk in a country mission hall, he wont see it as a downfall. He'll say 'It's the Lord's will. I'm going back to my roots. This is where I belong.'"
March 10, 2008
(by Suzanne Breen, Sunday Tribune)
Offensive, yet charming, bigoted yet welcoming, fundamentalist yet progressive. With Ian Paisley, nothing is ever straightforward. Suzanne Breen, Northern Editor, reports on the Paisley she knew.
We didn't get off to the best of starts. I first met Ian Paisley canvassing in a field at an agricultural fair in the loyalist heartland of Ballymoney. "This is a journalist from a Dublin newspaper," he declared as all eyes fell on the 'foreign' reporter. "She's here to write propaganda for the enemies of Ulster!"
I retorted that Paisley territory must be very vulnerable indeed when it needed defending against a solitary female writer from the 'other' side. The Big Man glared at me. And then he broke into loud guffaws of laughter. "You're very welcome!" he said, and there followed a hearty handshake and 14 years of craic and confidences.
He'd often reminisce about his beginnings as a young preacher, crossing the countryside to address small gatherings in mission halls. He'd been nervous and jittery then. Now, in old age, they weren't able to shut him up.
I disagree with the position Paisley has taken on just about everything over the years – from civil rights to civic partnerships. I've met many people who believe his oratory encouraged and gave cover to loyalist paramilitaries. Just recently, Billy McDowell, horrifically injured in the IRA's La Mon bombing, said that after listening to Paisley in his early years, his instinct was to go out and join a terrorist organisation.
And yet, on a personal level, I never found Paisley sectarian. He was always straight and honourable in his dealings with me. He has more charisma than every other politician under Stormont's roof combined. On an election canvass you could see it wasn't just an 'X' on a ballot paper he secured, it was a place in unionists' hearts.
He'd bump into someone on the street he hadn't seen for 20 years and he'd recall the most insignificant detail of their last meeting, and they'd remember it too. No encounter with the Big Man was ever forgotten. Even if some have become disillusioned with him over his relationship with Martin McGuinness, his charm means he has avoided the opprobrium on the streets that plagued David Trimble.
He once denounced McGuinness as 'the Butcher of the Bogside'. The u-turn must be hard for his followers to stomach. But nobody should be surprised at Paisley's amicable relationship with the Deputy First Minister. Once he decided to enter government with Sinn Féin, it was never going to be half-hearted. There's nothing petty about Paisley. He smiles and jokes with McGuinness because that is what he does with those around him.
Paisley's comments about individuals' personal behaviour or looks – Brian Cowen's thick lips, for instance – have offended many over the years. But if he gives abuse, he can take it too. When he accuses you of having been on "the devil's buttermilk" if you're five minutes late for a press conference, it's his attempt at humour.
Paisley's oldest friend in the House of Commons isn't some right-wing Tory as might be expected but Tony Benn, even though "he's a bit of a republican". I've always found that, on a one-to-one basis, Paisley never really cared what your political viewpoint was as long as you were genuine. Those he despised were the "paper men – men of no opinion, men who stand for nothing".
Some of Paisley's statements on women have been breathtakingly non-politically correct. "When you meet a devil wearing trousers it's bad, but a devil wearing a skirt is 10 times worse," is a favourite saying. Yet this is a man who treats the women in his life with huge respect. He was content for Eileen to omit the obedience pledge from their wedding vows – a radical step in the 1950s.
"I never wanted a submissive wife. I wanted a woman I could talk to, an equal, and she is much more than my equal," he says. Anyone who has witnessed them together sees the real affection and admiration he has for her: she is not just the wife on the arm for the photo opportunity.
Despite his religious fundamentalism, he speaks of Eileen not in tones of anaemic domesticity but in a passionate, physical way. Even in his 80s, he still leaves surprise presents under her pillow. Ask the Paisley children about growing up and you'd expect tales of rigid discipline. Instead, you'll hear Ian jnr recall Saturday mornings "watching TV on the sofa with Da, munching wine gums and liquorice allsorts".
Renowned publicly for his bluntness and bombast, colleagues too speak of this more tender private side. "The night he resigned, I phoned him to congratulate him on his very dignified TV interview," says DUP Environment Minister and ex-Ulster Unionist, Arlene Foster.
"Even in these circumstances, he immediately asked how my three children were – he knows all their names – and how my husband Brian was. He hoped they weren't too annoyed at him for giving me all the work that keeps me away from home so much. David Trimble wouldn't even have known I had kids, never mind their names. Ian never sees us as robots there for him and the DUP. He acknowledges us as human beings with lives outside politics."
MP Sammy Wilson, one of the DUP's bolshier members, says: "Doc has always been very protective of us, treating us like family. I've been on the rough end of his tongue more than anybody. There's been numerous doors slammed and tables banged and I'd sometimes sit laughing which made it worse.
"But he never held a grudge. The next day it would be forgotten. Sometimes, he just didn't know how to handle what he viewed as bad behaviour. I remember him bouncing with anger at me once but all he could think of saying was 'And you went and did this Sammy when I bought you a Chinese last week!'"
Wilson recalls other humorous moments: "We went down to Dublin in the dead of night as part of the DUP's 'Hands off the UDR' campaign. I'd brought the wrong map and we were driving around lost for ages. It was after midnight when we finally found the Dáil. We had cameras with us.
"Doc marches up to a wee guard outside and says, 'Is the tee-shock in?' expecting the Taoiseach to arrive down in his pyjamas to meet us. The guard says 'No' so Doc pulls out one of our UDR posters, thrusts it into the wee man's hands, and somebody starts taking photos of this shell-shocked guard clutching a loyalist placard. Then Doc says, 'Do you want me to sign that poster?'"
Another colleague recalls Paisley's irrepressible optimism: "After our poor result in the 1998 referendum on the Good Friday Agreement, everybody was down – Peter, Nigel, the entire leadership. The only person not deflated was Doc. He kept this incredibly positive outlook and it helped carry us through.
"His judgement has weakened in recent years but when I saw how he handled himself in his resignation TV interview, despite all the pressure he was under, I remembered the man he was. The secret of class is, when you're driven out of town, to make it look like you're leading the parade."
A fellow Protestant preacher says Paisley must be judged on his performance in both the public and private arenas: "He models himself not on Carson or Luther but on CH Spurgeon, the Victorian preacher. Spurgeon was lauded because he was as great at the bedside of a dying boy as he was preaching to 6,000 people on a Sunday. Ian Paisley is the same."
DUP Assembly member, Jim Wells, agrees: "We were canvassing in South Down once and Doc was hand-shaking and ranting and enjoying himself when we heard of a dying man at a farm in Rathfriland. Doc said we should go up immediately.
"The man was called Trimble and Doc said to him, 'I terrorise one Trimble so it's only right I give support to another!'.He lightened the situation as nobody else could. Then he sat and read the bible and prayed with the man. It was very moving."
Not that colleagues portray Paisley as a saint. "He's always been well able to look after himself," says one. "You'd find people sucking up to him, hoping to use him for some purpose, but he'd end up taking them for a ride. He was no Father Christmas."
Although Paisley will continue as an MP and Assembly member, he will have more time on his hands after he steps down as DUP leader in May. It's hard to see him taking to gardening or the golf course. He'll probably spend the time with Eileen and his 10 grandchildren, and reading the Bible. Already author of several religious booklets, he will surely pen more.
The DUP will organise a series of events to celebrate his leadership and ensure he leaves on a high. "As the dust settles, a lot of personal sympathy for him will return and it will be a fond farewell," predicts one insider.
An ex-colleague wonders if, whatever his public demeanour, Paisley will be privately resentful: "He's not stupid, he knows the manoeuvrings that went on behind the scenes. He'll look around the room and see certain individuals heaping praise on him and know they're thinking 'thank God, he's going'. And he'll think, 'I made them all. They'd be nothing without me.'"
Certainly, Paisley will realise that, amidst all the speculation about his future in recent weeks, the only person who publicly said he should stay was his wife. Some colleagues fear he will become bitter on reflection. Others believe that's not in his make-up. "He will find comfort in religion," believes one DUP insider. "He'll say 'Such is life. Didn't they nail my Lord to the cross?'"
But will he miss the trappings of power? He will be leaving the splendour of his Stormont Castle office, and he is no longer Free Presbyterian moderator, just an ordinary minister. Some believe had he retained the church position, it would have cushioned the blow. Others reckon he will be fine regardless.
"At the heart of every Protestant evangelical minister is almost a desire to lose, to be on the outside, up against the rest of the world, the prophet in the wilderness," a colleague asserts. "If Ian ends his days preaching to a dozen folk in a country mission hall, he wont see it as a downfall. He'll say 'It's the Lord's will. I'm going back to my roots. This is where I belong.'"
March 10, 2008
