History of Ulster's Political Wall Murals

In 1690 decisive battles for the English crown were fought on Irish soil. Prince William of Orange had challenged the incumbent king, his father-in-law James II, and their armies, with both kings present, met at the Battle of the Boyne, near Dundalk. William’s army won. But the decisive battle which led to James abdicating and fleeing to France was the following year, at Aughrim, near Limerick. Whatever the changes William’s victory brought to English society and politics - it is referred to as 'the Glorious Revolution' and is viewed as a positive step towards full parliamentary democracy - they had profound effects on Ireland. The defeated native Irish in the centuries afterwards were subjected to brutal penal laws which blocked their economic and political advance and kept the peasantry in abject poverty. Catholicism was suppressed as the ‘Protestant ascendancy’ was established and held sway until well into the nineteenth century.

One hundred years after the Battle of the Boyne, an organization was formed to celebrate the victory. The Orange Order, as it was known, celebrated on the date of the battle, 12 July (1), with marches wherein they honoured ‘the pious, glorious and immortal memory of King William’ who had given to them as Protestants in Ireland their ‘freedom, religion and laws’. The Order went through a number of peaks and troughs in the years that followed, its lowest point being when it was banned between 1823 and 1845 for involvement in sectarian conflict, but by the end of the nineteenth century was well established. Its annual celebration, ‘the Twelfth’ as it was popularly known, brought together Protestants of all classes who marched with bands and banners. The banners were carefully painted by artisans and showed scenes of British imperial power, biblical stories, etc. But by far the dominant image was that of King Billy, as he was affectionately termed, on his horse crossing the Boyne.

By the start of the twentieth century, this image began to be transferred onto gable walls where it could be viewed all year round rather than on one day only as was the case with banners. Eventually other themes were painted too – such as the Battle of the Somme, or the sinking of the Titanic, built in Belfast. But the image of King Billy was central. Each Protestant area vied with others to have the most ornate depiction of Billy and the Boyne, and these murals were repainted each July, sometimes over five decades. Even before partition in 1921, they were the focus for the unionist population of the north of Ireland celebrating its solidarity. Once the Northern Ireland state had been born in bloodshed and built on discrimination, the significance of ‘the Twelfth’ and its murals became even more important for unionism.

But Northern Ireland in the last quarter of the twentieth century was a very different place from what it had been in the first quarter. Civil rights campaigners had been beaten off the streets, the British army had been deployed as the legitimacy of the state collapsed, British administrators were now demanding that local politicians and bureaucrats act fairly and inclusively, loyalist military organizations such as the Ulster Defence Association (UDA) and the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) were slaughtering Catholics and the Irish Republican Army (IRA) had in effect declared war on British institutions in Ireland. Unionism splintered, with some seeing the need for liberalization and others holding out for the old ascendancy. In that situation, the solidarity which ‘the Twelfth’ celebrations had come to symbolize was no longer there and the King Billy murals faded from the walls as a consequence. For a time they were replaced with ornate depictions of flags, crowns, bibles and other inanimate symbols.

By the late 1980s, the political scene had changed again. An agreement between the London and Dublin governments which gave Dublin some minimal say in the affairs of the North, was met by fierce unionist resistance on the streets. And in tandem, the murals were transformed. Now the over-riding image was of UVF or UDA men, usually wearing ski-masks and bristling with weapons. From this point on the murals no longer represented the wider unionist community, but became the calling card of the loyalist paramilitary groups. Whichever group controlled an area festooned the walls with murals of armed men – part self-adulation, part an attempt at reassurance for the local population that the paramilitary group concerned would defend them from the IRA. Sometimes rivalry between the two main loyalist paramilitary groups would lead to feuding and the murals would become victims of the violence which erupted. It was not unusual when the battle was over for the victors to leave the damaged murals of the vanquished as a reminder of who had won and who had lost.

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