The undulating country route heading south from Killyleagh to Downpatrick crosses an invisible unionist/nationalist divide over which Theresa May’s precarious, political future is now suspended. The town of Killyleagh is the last predominantly Protestant settlement in the Westminster constituency of Strangford. At the general election, the seat was held by the Democratic Unionist party MP Jim Shannon with an increased majority.
Six miles further on, the road enters the mainly Catholic Downpatrick, in the constituency of South Down. Once held by Enoch Powell, the former Conservative minister who became an Ulster Unionist MP, it was captured for the first time last week by Sinn Féin.
Responses to May’s proposed arrangement with the DUP diverge sharply between the two towns – from enthusiasm to derision – but on an island where deal-making and coalitions flourish, there is acknowledgement that the accord has parliamentary precedents.
“Hopefully, it will be good for Northern Ireland,” suggested Richard Martin, working in the family garage in Killyleagh. “I hope it will bring more money in. Other parts of the UK may not think it’s so good, but we are due a bit here.
“Sinn Féin shared power with the DUP at Stormont, so it shouldn’t be a problem. It’s all about resources. A year ago, my wife was pregnant and we ended up in A&E. It was one of those times when it was absolute chaos. You could see how stretched they were. People are always complaining about waiting times.”
On Killyleagh’s main street, where lamp-posts are festooned with union jacks and Northern Irish flags, Anne Davidson, another DUP voter, hoped that a deal would deliver more jobs. “Maybe they will sort themselves out at Stormont,” she added, referring to the breakdown of the devolved government. “They should be thinking about people in this country more and stop fighting each other.”
Killyleagh escaped the worst of the Troubles, although a bomb planted in a Catholic-owned bar by the Ulster Volunteer Force, a loyalist paramilitary group, killed a Protestant woman in 1975. The town now appears prosperous. From under the walls of the Gothic-turreted castle, yachts can be seen riding at anchor in Strangford Lough. The brightly painted cafes and souvenir shops resemble tourist destinations in the south-west of Ireland.
A woman who voted for the cross-community Alliance party said she was appalled at British media attacks on the DUP and the way everyone in Northern Ireland was denigrated. She said: “People are saying terrible things. They are implying we are all brain-dead and backward. A deal between the Conservatives and the DUP doesn’t bother me. I’m not a Jeremy Corbyn fan.”
Not everyone in Killyleagh was supportive. John Cleland, who voted Green, said: “It will showcase to the world just how daft the DUP is. Maybe we can get some sensible politics here rather than this tribal nonsense.”
Political marriages of convenience between weakened British governments and Irish parties have been a recurring feature at Westminster. Irish nationalists supported the Liberal party in the 19th century in pursuit of home rule; James Callaghan’s Labour government relied on SDLP votes for several years, and John Major depended on Ulster Unionist party votes in the final years of his administration.
The goodwill of the people of Northern Ireland may ultimately influence the longevity of any parliamentary deal: DUP politicians, close to their voters, are sensitive to grassroots opinion. Ironically, both constituencies are contributing to the prime minister’s survival.
Shannon supports the negotiations. South Down’s MP, Chris Hazzard, opposes the deal but refuses, like other Sinn Féin members, to take his seat at Westminster, denying the British government’s right to govern the “six counties”.
The road south from Killyleagh skirts the edge of Strangford Lough, passing over drumlin fields – switchback hillocks carved by glaciers during the ice age. Beyond rich agricultural land, the Mourne mountains, wreathed in cloud, rise up. The route is celebrated by Van Morrison in his song Coney Island, which ends with the euphoric line: “Wouldn’t it be great if it was like this all the time?”
In Downpatrick, a DUP/Conservative deal was not generally seen as an exhilarating prospect. “Theresa May will get what she wants,” observed one Sinn Féin voter. “It’s a convenience of bedfellows. Perhaps they will simply pay the farmers what they lose out on from leaving the EU?. I’m opposed.”
One middle-aged woman thought the agreement might last a few months before collapsing. “It wouldn’t be good for the politics of Northern Ireland,” she said. “How can the British government be neutral in the talks at Stormont [to restore the devolved executive]?”
Sharon Skillen was also sceptical: “Arlene Foster needs to think about everyone and she needs to think again about gay marriage. She needs to live and let live. I’m a Protestant. I hope she works it out for everyone. It’s about time Northern Ireland grew up and took an adult approach to politics.”
Downpatrick has changed since Powell lost his seat in 1987, with many streets now displaying their names in Irish. Powell was not the only Englishman whose destiny became entwined with South Down. On the hill beside Downpatrick’s Church of Ireland cathedral stands the ancient reputed tomb of St Patrick.
An explanatory panel records that he was captured by pirates near his home in Britain in 432 and “sold into slavery” in Ireland. Some British voters may consider a DUP/Conservative deal in similar terms. Others may point out that St Patrick’s adventures had a more positive outcome.
