Twenty-five years after the Good Friday Agreement ended decades of violence, Belfast's peace walls remain a stark reminder of the city's deep divisions. While some barriers have been dismantled, many still stand, including a 45-foot wall on Cupar Way that is three times higher than the Berlin Wall and has been in place twice as long.
Residents like Rosaleen Petticrew, who once relied on the walls for safety during sectarian violence, now see them as obstacles to reconciliation. Her daughter's relationship with a Protestant man led the family to support the removal of a barrier on Flax Street. 'You just realise, we're all the same,' said Petticrew, now 54.
Despite such personal stories of progress, Northern Ireland remains deeply segregated. Over 80% of people vote along sectarian lines, children attend separate schools, and families live in divided neighbourhoods. Power-sharing at Stormont has collapsed repeatedly, with the assembly non-functional for 40% of its existence since 1999.
Brexit has exacerbated tensions, reopening debates about identity and sovereignty. Commentator Malachi O'Doherty argues that the power-sharing system 'consolidates division' and incentivises parties to preserve ethnic and sectarian divides. He calls for more pressure on parties to move beyond tribal politics and for greater efforts to end territorial division.
As the anniversary of the Good Friday Agreement approaches, a sense of gloom hangs over celebrations. While the agreement delivered peace, lack of reconciliation has left a toxic polity unable to govern itself. The peace walls, once seen as necessary, now stand as potent symbols of an unfinished peace.
