From Sectarian Peace to Common Power

Introduction

The Irish peace process achieved silence without solidarity. It subdued militancy, demobilised thousands, and replaced insurgent hope with bureaucratic partnership. Yet violence did not cease in people’s lives; it migrated into the quiet coercion of rent, debt, and poverty. The border softened while inequality hardened. When a process claims peace but leaves hunger, precarity and despair untouched, what has really changed?

Sectarian pacification is not peace. It is a managed coexistence of divided poor, each group persuaded that the other is its rival while both serve the same economic masters. The arms may have been dumped, but property relations were not. The landlord has replaced the gunman as the decisive local power. The result is stability without justice—a calm surface hiding capitalist turbulence beneath.

True reconciliation will not sprout from negotiations between elites, nor from reconciliatory ceremonies sponsored by those invested in division. It emerges when working‑class communities, north and south, Catholic and Protestant, native and migrant, rediscover their shared condition as tenants, workers and debtors. When that recognition matures into collective action, a new type of power appears—cooperative rather than hierarchical, creative instead of managerial.

This essay explores how a movement rooted in the housing struggle can break the spell of sectarian politics. It draws on anarchist perspectives that see in the Irish peace process not a resolution but a rebranding of exploitation. The central hypothesis is simple: cross‑community solidarity will form not by debating identity but by solving material needs together. From this vantage point, housing becomes both battlefield and blueprint. If homes remain commodities, peace cannot be free.

The thesis, then, is this: genuine peace in Ireland requires building autonomous institutions of everyday life—tenants’ assemblies, mutual aid networks, cooperative ownership—capable of governing without Westminster, Dublin or the paramilitary past. Ending sectarianism means constructing new sovereignties from below.

Section One: The Peace That Serves Power

The Good Friday Agreement is often celebrated as the crowning achievement of pragmatic politics. But such triumphalism conceals its economic underpinning. Peace was never designed to emancipate the working class; it was engineered to integrate Northern Ireland into the neoliberal consensus that swept the globe in the 1990s. Structural inequality, mass unemployment and the privatisation of public goods became the hidden architecture of the settlement.

The Economic Lens

During the Troubles, militant actors contested sovereignty through armed struggle. With disarmament came an invitation into parliamentary politics under existing capitalist rules. Sinn Féin’s gradual transformation—from socialist rhetoric to coalition‑friendly moderation—mirrored a wider pattern of co‑optation. Pragmatism became a euphemism for obedience to market logic. Cuts to education and health services followed, justified by fiscal responsibility but inflicted on those the revolution once vowed to defend.

Meanwhile, the private sector expanded into every vacated space. International investors targeted post‑conflict Ireland as a new profit zone, turning reconstruction into a speculative opportunity. Former industrial areas became redevelopment projects; social housing stock was sold, not restored. Material deprivation remained endemic. Peace was good for business—and that was precisely the point.

The Sectarian Utility of Capital

Sectarian identity, though formally denounced, continued to function as social control. As long as working‑class neighborhoods remained divided, collective bargaining across communities was impossible. A Protestant worker would see a Catholic competitor, never the common boss. This psychological partition preserved the economic one. The peace process institutionalised this logic through consociationalism—power‑sharing that guarantees representation for communities but not transformation of class structure. The ruling elite substituted violent rivalry with polite rivalry and called it harmony.

The Unfinished Reality

To critique this order is not to wish for a return to conflict but to unmask the trade made in its name. Ceasefire without redistribution breeds stagnation. Disarmament without economic justice leaves power untouched. What ended was gunfire; what persisted was exploitation. That persistence exposes the hollowness of a peace built on managed inequality.

Anarchists have long argued that nationalism and imperialism form complementary halves of the same system. The Irish and British governments, though apparent antagonists, share one priority: maintaining social order conducive to profit. In this sense, the working class remains the occupied territory. Recognising this continuity is the first step toward designing a struggle that neither empire nor nation can co‑opt.

Section Two: The Housing Crisis as Catalyst

Every era hides its sharpest contradiction in daily routines. Today, it is housing. Rent consumes livelihoods while property speculation inflates wealth for an absentee elite. In Belfast, entire estates lie in disrepair beside new luxury blocks financed by offshore funds. Dublin’s skyline gleams with cranes while its pavements host the homeless. Housing is capitalism’s mirror: a basic need transformed into investment fodder.

Why Housing Cuts Across Sectarian Lines

Unlike flag disputes or commemorative politics, housing pain knows no religion. Catholic families queue on waiting lists just as Protestant retirees fear eviction. Migrant workers and students, huddled in overpriced rooms, experience the same powerlessness as long‑time locals. The roof unites where history divides.

For organizers, this universality is strategic gold. A tenants’ rights campaign sidesteps the identity traps that have splintered previous movements. People rarely care about the political affiliation of the neighbour who helps them block an eviction. Shared struggle breeds trust faster than dialogue sessions ever could.

Rent as Tribute to Empire

The structure of ownership in Ireland remains haunted by colonial logic. Landlordism, once an explicitly British institution, mutated into financial landlordism—a global version where Irish property is owned by European and American funds. Paying rent today means sustaining a transnational empire of capital. When tenants organise to cap rents and reclaim buildings, they participate in decolonisation more honest than any flag assertion.

Seedbeds of a New Sovereignty

Grassroots housing activism already contains the DNA of self‑government. When tenants’ associations set collective rent limits or redirect withheld payments into solidarity funds, they perform the functions of a parallel state: budget allocation, dispute resolution, resource distribution. Each meeting rehearses a post‑sectarian polity rooted in equality of need rather than hierarchy of identity.

These micro‑institutions do not wait for political blessing; they create authority by practice. In anarchist terms, sovereignty is no longer petitioned from parliament but produced through everyday cooperation. Housing struggles become training grounds for liberated governance.

Section Three: Designing Cross‑Community Direct Action

Effective direct action must do more than shout; it must reveal a new way of living. When activists occupy a vacant building divided by a peace wall and declare it a people’s leasehold, they dramatize a truth that speeches cannot convey: walls are temporary, needs are permanent. The act fuses symbolism and materiality in a single gesture.

Stage One: Mapping the Fault Line

Begin by identifying properties that expose contradiction—empty corporate holdings amid overcrowded estates. These buildings symbolize both neglect and potential. Mapping absentee ownership educates participants about how capital transcends sectarian lines even when communities do not. Investigating title deeds can itself be a consciousness‑raising tool, showing that the same investment fund owns assets in Catholic and Protestant areas alike.

Stage Two: Occupation as Invitation

Occupation is often misconstrued as confrontation. It is better understood as invitation—a call to inhabit together what the market has abandoned. Opening a derelict structure as a shared community space demands participation, not dogma. Ritualising entry with acts of symbolic unity—such as melting individual keys into a single communal one—transforms the occupation into collective myth‑making.

The strength of such rituals lies in their fusion of emotional and political resonance. By forging a common symbol, participants create belonging stronger than inherited mistrust. In this process, identity ceases to be denominational and becomes political in the deepest sense: the assertion that people can rule themselves.

Stage Three: Autonomous Governance Inside the Occupation

Sustaining the occupation requires structure. Daily stations can manage essential functions: coordinating rent strikes, repairing the space, and convening open assemblies. Each station embodies the principle of mutual competence—those affected design and implement solutions. Over time, these operations model the feasibility of an alternative society.

Decision‑making must remain transparent and rotational. Assemblies broadcast by community radio reach across digital divides and affirm the continuity between action and communication. The goal is not fame but replication: for every occupied space to inspire dozens more.

Stage Four: Defense through Solidarity

No occupation survives long alone. Therefore, synchronized defense networks are vital. When eviction looms, other tenants’ groups can mobilize blockades targeting the landlord’s broader holdings or public reputation. The success of one compound sustains morale across a region. Each defensive victory chips away at the aura of untouchable property rights.

Stage Five: From Local Action to Shared Institution

Movements decay when victories remain isolated. Linking multiple occupied spaces into a federation—sharing resources, mediating conflicts, coordinating media strategy—elevates the campaign from protest to polity. Housing councils of this type could deliberate on mutual budgets, environmental upgrades and social care. In doing so they become the embryonic form of post‑sectarian governance.

By convening on neutral ground, such councils undermine the logic of partition more effectively than constitutional debate. They prove unity through practice.

Section Four: Building the Emotional Infrastructure of Solidarity

Material struggles alone do not ensure de‑sectarianisation. Emotional residues of fear and pride linger. Activists must design spaces that tend to these psychic realities. Without rituals of trust, even economic cooperation risks relapse into suspicion.

Healing through Shared Work

Collective repair projects—the restoration of derelict houses, creation of childcare facilities, or transformation of vacant lots into gardens—serve as therapy through labour. Working side by side dissolves enmity more thoroughly than any dialogue program. Each repaired wall becomes a metaphor for mending history.

Cultural programming can further this healing. Music nights that blend Protestant laments, Irish republican ballads and contemporary immigrant rhythms dramatize coexistence as creativity. The act of sharing performance space reimagines identity as evolving rather than inherited.

Designing Democratic Rituals

Movements need pageantry to sustain morale. Marches led by banners reading Homes for All, Borders for None replace flags of division with symbols of shared aspiration. Instead of parading for old victories, communities parade for upcoming battles: rent caps, social housing takeovers, the right to stay.

Assemblies can borrow from both church and council—structured reflection intermixed with open debate. Each meeting begins with one question: what do we need to live free today? This keeps ideology grounded in daily experience.

Guarding Against Re‑Co‑optation

As the housing struggle gains attention, parties and NGOs will attempt to domesticate it. Offers of funding, recognition or partnership may appear generous yet aim to restore predictability. The defense against this is procedural independence: decisions made horizontally, transparency maintained through public accounting, and leadership rotated to prevent personal empires. A movement that depends on charisma repeats the errors of nationalism; a movement built on process endures.

Media Ecology and Narratives of Motive

Corporate media reduce complexity into morality tales: good activists versus bad landlords, or vice versa. To escape this frame, activists require their own narrative infrastructure. Community radio, zines and local podcasts allow storytelling that emphasises solidarity over scandal. They remind participants that the real antagonist is not any single landlord but a system converting shelter into speculation.

This narrative work also counters manipulation by paramilitary remnants who may attempt to hijack housing campaigns for their own legitimacy. A clear anti‑sectarian charter—explicitly rejecting coercion and symbolic violence—confirms the movement’s independence from both state and militia.

Measuring Success Beyond Numbers

Victory cannot be tallied only by occupied buildings or policy wins. The deeper measure is sovereignty gained: the degree to which ordinary people experience themselves as agents rather than subjects. Every community garden managed collectively, every eviction blocked, every rent strike coordinated across divides constitutes a small expansion of that sovereignty. Quantifying these increments builds confidence that an alternative order is not utopian but already underway.

Putting Theory Into Practice

To transform the analysis into living movement, organisers can experiment with the following steps:

1. Map Housing Ownership
   Form mixed‑background research teams to trace property deeds, revealing overlapping capitalist interests across communities. Publish findings in accessible maps to visualise shared dependence and shared adversaries.

2. Launch Cross‑Community Tenants’ Assemblies
   Hold meetings rotating between traditionally opposing areas. Start with local issues—rent ceilings, repairs, energy costs—but maintain equal representation and decision‑making by consensus. Treat each assembly as an embryo of participatory governance.

3. Coordinate Rent Strikes and Solidarity Funds
   Establish a principle that rent exceeding a quarter of income constitutes exploitation. Participants withhold simultaneously, diverting payments into community treasuries that finance legal defense and direct support for strikers.

4. Occupy and Repurpose Vacant Properties
   Target derelict commercial buildings as pilot commons. Convert them into multipurpose centres housing relief kitchens, cultural events and political education. Use creative rituals of unity during occupation openings to symbolise collective ownership.

5. Develop Communication Infrastructure
   Set up low‑cost broadcasting—community radio or pirate FM—to disseminate updates and coordinate action beyond social media surveillance. This builds intergenerational reach and protects movement autonomy.

6. Institutions of Care and Decompression
   Introduce collective rest rituals after major actions: music, storytelling, childcare, shared meals. Protecting the psyche of participants prevents burnout and models humane governance.

7. Federate Assemblies into a Council of the Commons
   Link local assemblies through rotating delegates. Coordinate regional mobilisations, pool resources, and draft collective statements. When this federation begins to make binding decisions on housing policy, the alternative government has effectively begun.

These steps, modest at first, can evolve into a distributed architecture of everyday autonomy. Each practical experiment teaches lessons that transcend Ireland, demonstrating how communities everywhere might overcome manufactured divides through direct control of life’s essentials.

Conclusion

The Irish peace process ended one war but prolonged another: the social war between owners and the dispossessed. Its architects mistook quiet for justice, mistook management for liberation. Yet beneath the surface, a new insurgency is gestating—not against neighbours but against the structures that profit from their separation.

Housing is the crucible where this insurgency takes form. It demands the cooperation of those previously pitted against each other, confronting both sectarian ghosts and capitalist landlords simultaneously. Through tenants’ assemblies, occupations and federations of mutual aid, a vision of non‑sectarian sovereignty becomes tangible. Freedom ceases to be a constitutional promise and becomes a lived practice of self‑management.

If Ireland’s future is to transcend its troubled past, it will not do so through the choreography of elites but through the imagination of its people reclaiming the ground beneath their feet. The next phase of peace will not be televised parliamentary sessions but the quiet, determined forging of communal keys to once‑vacant homes. There, real unity can begin.

So, which abandoned building or neglected estate near you could become the first frontier of such common power, and who will have the courage to open its door?