From Beirut to Belfast

But of course, it’s not that simple. For its part, Northern Ireland has maintained peace—albeit a tense, frigid one. The 2016 Brexit referendum renewed concerns for ethnic violence in the province. The main problem for Northern Ireland was the imposition of hard border checks between north and south on the island—thereby violating the peace agreement—if the UK were to withdraw from the EU Common Market. Republicans capitalized on majority discontent over the Brexit result and reinvigorated calls for a border poll with the goal of Irish unification. Yet, in 2017, Sinn Fein exited power-sharing, and the country was left without a regional government. After a three-year hiatus from Stormont, Sinn Fein (SF) and the Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) entered into power-sharing in January 2020, enacting a compromise deal that revised institutional procedures and finally acknowledged the Irish language (alongside the Ulster-Scots language)—just before the Coronavirus pandemic. Nonetheless, trouble looms on the horizon. In March 2021, a council of loyalist paramilitary groups renounced the Good Friday Agreement (GFA) because of the Northern Ireland protocol in the UK-EU trade deal. Political tensions are rising, and ethnic animosities are re-awakening, but as the debate rages on, the Black Taxis idly stand by in Belfast city center amidst worldwide travel bans—waiting for their longed-for tourists. This tale of two taxis magnifies broader, deep-rooted questions about war, peace, and reconciliation—in parts of the world where sectarian division has been a way of life. Lebanon and Northern Ireland are examples of what scholars have termed as “deeply divided societies”: “post-war countries with salient vertical (identity-based) cleavages that are perceived to threaten stability and peace,” according to Rima Majed. In the wake post-World War II decolonization and the era of national liberation movements, questions about nationhood and identity challenged theorists and practitioners alike. Since the fall of the Soviet Union, renewed attention to ethnic violence captured political scientists and the general public. As the world watched in horror the atrocities at Srebrenica and Rwanda—seemingly ‘tribe-like,’ ‘primordial,’ and hate-fueled genocides and massacres—fierce debates over the United States’ “responsibility to protect” (R2P) engulfed Washington. Conflict resolution theories endeavored to find political and institutional solutions to deep-rooted conflict in these societies. This is where the concept of ‘power-sharing’ comes in. Power-sharing institutions—or consociationalism—are, as Caroline Hartzell and Matthew Hoddie define, “rules that, in addition to defining how decisions will be made by groups within the polity, allocate decision-making rights, including access to state resources, among collectivities competing for power.” These specific arrangements, comprised of special constitutions, electoral processes, and safeguards were seen by many as a political path towards peace in divided societies. From apartheid South Africa to the minuscule island of Bougainville, political leaders devised power-sharing frameworks that account for opposing ethnic communities. Indeed, the constitutional make-ups of Lebanon and Northern Ireland are viewed as consociationalism par excellence. Both countries were involved in violent political conflicts between ethnic-religious communities and ended their hostilities via power-sharing. Both polities have maintained power-sharing institutions since the end of the twentieth century. However, how has power-sharing played out in these two countries, and many other divided societies, after peace is achieved? I had a hunch that there must be some relationship between Lebanon’s absolute failure as a state and Northern Ireland’s relative success. Why is this the case? My thesis picks up the conversation on this topic. Recent literature has explored power-sharing in practice, and the successes and challenges states have faced when implementing this form of constitution. How have power-sharing institutions affected divided societies? What effects have they had on ethnic identities? Why do some arrangements succeed, while others fail? A lively debate about the answers to these questions has kept the fields of conflict resolution and ethnic violence interesting and engaging. As I studied these subjects, I was intrigued by a particular facet in this debate; namely, questions about the relationship between power-sharing arrangements and ethnic tensions. Thus, I decided to ask, “To what extent do power-sharing institutions affect ethnic tensions in divided societies?” In the following chapters, I attempt to find some answers.