War Paint: Addressing the Mural Paintings of Northern Ireland
The post conflict space of Northern Ireland is covered with remnants both material and immaterial from wide spread sectarian violence during the thirty– year ethno-nationalist conflict known as “The Troubles” (1968 – 1998). As a result, the region would undergo massive changes in its social, cultural and economic physiognomy. In this project I would like to analyse in depth the regions vast collection of mural paintings, scattered throughout the physical geography as cultural shrapnel from its deeply complex explosion of war. The paintings, which began to appear on the gable ends of houses at the start of the twentieth century, are intimately connected with a narrative of conflict, religious friction and division between two peoples. Before the partition in 1921, symbolic images of protestant ascendancy began to be transferred from display on parade banners to the walls, changing the cultural expression of protestant dominance in the north of the country into something permanently elaborated, enlarged and recognisable. After the partition, these inflated symbols gained new significance, and further more so when the conflict began proper in 1968. Catholic factions in the region responded, painting their own murals, with themes reflecting the perceived injustices of the catholic minority in the north, the wish to join the republic in the south, and feelings on contemporary cause related issues to name a few.
The phenomenon of the mural paintings in Northern Ireland offers up many interesting questions and avenues for inquiry. Even to start an approach toward these objects is to provoke questions about the defining essences of art and graffiti and the large crossover between these two forms – how should we categorise the paintings with artistic terminology, if any at all, and select our tools for analysis accordingly? How do we understand the affectual functioning of the artistic and graffiti-esque elements and the interplay between the two to this end? Is this end clear and fixed, or are a number of interpretations and
receptions possible? If so, how many and by what rationale? And what does this mean for our overall understanding? The murals clearly contain a propagandistic aspect – what can they tell us about the use of art in conflict and the use of
conflict in art? How are symbols utilised, and what role does atypical context play in the communicative process for atypical objects and their messages?
The mural paintings in Northern Ireland can tell us a great deal about the history of the conflict and the nature of artistic responses to violence. Though many have been removed and reworked as part of community initiatives to regenerate conflict stricken areas, and inspire future generations with positive themes of peace, forgiveness and hope, emphasising values, events and people celebrated by both catholic and protestant communities, many remain on the landscape as reminders of a violent and turbulent past. These can be understood as part of the present. And with them, those removed can illuminate some answers to the questions posed above.
I would like focus this project around two celebrated murals, the Belfast Mona Lisa and the mural for the hunger striker Bobby Sands, since they are unmatched,
as far as I can tell, in their scope and content. Although it is never prudent to make sweeping statements and generalisations about a collection of objects from such a small number of case studies, the questions these particular murals raise are indeed generalisable unto objects even outside of this corpus if they are to be answered. This is ultimately what makes the mural paintings such a rich and interesting topic for study – they transcend time and place.
Graffiti, Art or Images?
In this chapter I would like to discuss the variety of possibilities that are available to us during the task of categorising, with the aim to approaching, the mural paintings. In selecting a few examples from their giant corpus for close reading, it will become clear that there is no obvious and distinct way to classify these objects with artistic terminology, and this problem left unresolved has immediate consequences for how we are to approach and contextualise the objects and answer the many deeper questions they raise. Exploring the possible
categorisations is a necessary task if we are to gain some understanding of the phenomenon. The approach we take to the murals is potentially laced with a multitude of different contextual and theoretical angles, and so, an enquiry into these angles can help us understand and fine-tune our approach. Ultimately, the purpose of this chapter will be to configure an approach.
“I can’t really divorce them from graffiti”
The above statement, issued by a traditional fine artist from Northern Ireland, encapsulates the ambiguity surrounding the categorisation of the mural paintings, and so can serve as a suitable entry point into our discussion. The artist’s statement hints at a previous confrontation with the categorical dilemma we will come to notice in the murals. He arrives in the statement at the idea that the mural paintings cannot “really” be separated from the form of graffiti, but “really” indicates to us that this is a matter of opinion, not of fact, as if to say “can’t really, but might be able to…” - other possibilities have been considered, or at least, noted. I would like to explore the suggestion that the murals are forms of graffiti and see what this would mean for our approach and understanding. The term ‘graffiti’ has a vast array of associations and connotations linked to and within it. Outlining these associations and fleshing out ‘graffiti’ in depth can help us to unpack a possible contextual environment from which we can potentially move forward with a further matured approach and toward the objective to understand of the mural paintings as a multifaceted cultural phenomenon. First I would like to consider the etymology of the term graffiti. The word has its etymological roots in ancient Greece, where the term γράφος -gráphos) was (
commonly used to mean ‘write’ or ‘inscribe’. Through this origin, we can gain some understanding of the murals place in and connection with past and ongoing linguistic discourses. In a metaphorical sense of course, the mural paintings have been ‘written’ or ‘inscribed’ onto urban surfaces. And then travelling back further with the term, before the attic Greek version was able to gain a precise and steady meaning in the language during the classical period of Greek antiquity, when the advancing region experienced a huge increase in the number of texts that were being created, γράφος had a wider meaning; the first usage of the word can be correctly translated as ‘marking’. Although it is obvious and true that terms and their meanings change over the course of time, often drastically, the objects have at least some connection with the semiotic narrative of γράφος , and therefore with its predecessor graffiti. Undeniably the murals are markings of some kind, and so to consider them as possible forms of graffiti is not illogical and could enrich our approach.
The term ‘marking’ summons the idea of a past action detectable in the present. In other words, a marking, necessarily, has to be made. It is undeniable evidence of something that has been done and done by someone, a kind of statement or affirmation of existence in the manner of a flag planting for example or a hurrah. We can in this way therefore view a marking as a record of human presence. Researcher at the Australian National University Dr. Ursula Frederick writes of graffiti:
“Graffiti is regularly interpreted not only as a record of human presence and the social construction of space but as a function of efforts to make claims over space” (Frederick 2009, 212)
Frederick acknowledges that graffiti is often understood as evidence of a human presence, and therefore a marking as we have seen, reintroducing the murals as linked to the etymological history of graffiti. I will address Frederick’s idea that graffiti contributes to the social construction of space later. Pertinent though now is her assertion that graffiti can function as an attempt to lay claim to space. This is hugely important for understanding how the murals can operate in the manner of graffiti in more ways than simply through etymological lineage and semiotic congruence. As such it can give us new ways of seeing our approach to the objects.
In light of our illustration of graffiti thus far, I would like to close read a famous loyalist mural painting, known as the Belfast Mona Lisa. As we will see now and later, this mural is incredibly rich in content for analysis and can serve as a great case study for understanding the potential for multi faceted operations within these objects.
Perhaps the most interesting element of this particular mural painting is the armed military figure featured on the upper centre of the gable end. It seems to have been included by the artist as, at least in part, an attempt to claim
ownership of the surrounding, and as such, is characteristic of graffiti according to Frederick.
An observer walking past the mural will find that the gun barrel of the
middlemost figure follows them at every stage of their journey. A comparison between figure 1 and 2 can give the reader something of a virtual re-enactment of this experience. In figure 1, the reader is presented with the mural, as though he were facing it directly, and from this front angle, the gun barrel points directly at him. And in figure 2, angled differently from the right side of the mural, the gunman still takes aim at the viewer. The gunman appears to aim at the observer no matter where he chooses to stand to view the mural painting. It is this feature of the object that has led it to a certain amount of fame within the large body of murals within Northern Ireland, and to its named association with Leonardo Da
Vinci’s Mona Lisa, whose eyes seem to stare at you from all viewing angles in a similar fashion to the gun barrel.
It is my contention that the central figure imposes an inescapable imaginary threat of violence on the observer through this artistic technique. It impossible to avoid the scope of the shooter when interacting with the painting, and so to interact with the painting at all is to be reminded of the concept of violence. The camouflage-styled clothing of the figure and his delineated position as a member of the U.F.F imply a man with both military backing and skill. The generic,
militaristic nature of the clothing allows the observer to recognise the figures congruence with the commonplace ideal of a male in the military; he is a trained professional, disciplined, and skilled in the art of war. This threatening
imposition by the figure acquires further force by the displayed associations. In other words, the gunman depicted is shown capable of executing the threat of violence he implies. The title given as a U.F.F member serves to remind the observer of the figures affiliations with a well-known terrorist organisation and it’s pandemic violent activity during the conflict. ‘U.F.F’ is an acronym for the Ulster Freedom Fighters, a prominent paramilitary organisation aligned to the loyalist cause. Given the physical location of the mural in the Lower Shankill region of Belfast, this title becomes especially important for consideration when attempting to understand the murals capturing of space in the mode of graffiti and how its messages are understood.
‘The Shankill’ is a term given to the nearby areas surrounding the Shankill Road, a major route leading about 2.4km through West Belfast. The predominantly working class district has long been bracketed with Protestant belief and hard line unionism. The Ulster Defence Association (U.D.A), another eminent loyalist paramilitary group had its headquarters in the Shankill, and it’s notorious former leader Johnny “Mad Dog” Adair was born and bred in the region, only to be expelled from it with threats of death during feuding between rival paramilitary factions in 2002. The area is infused with a full spectrum of unionist sectarian ideology. Furthermore, a huge number of notable violent incidents during the Troubles happened either within, or were closely linked to, the Shankill Road. The region was a powerhouse for the loyalist cause and a catalyst for the causes directed action. We can therefore view the Shankill as the foremost loyalist stronghold, a place where the power, pride and determination in loyalist ideology was at its zenith. This context, then, envelops the mural and grants the figure a visionary, but super massive aggressive potential. The observer is forced to recognise in the gunman a source of actual reinforcement and support, both militarily and ideologically for morale. The objects placement in the region links the militaristic connotations from the carefully depicted figure and his title “U.F.F member” to a collective ideological body existent throughout the community that can be mobilised, both imaginarily and in reality. The threat made with the delicate painting technique used by the artist on the gun barrel is therefore a threat that should be considered in some sense real.
The signification of a forceful and executable threat here though rather than a violent action that has already been enacted is key to understanding how this object successfully lays claim to space. It does not depict what the gunman has
done exactly, but more what he could potentially do. He seems to send out a defensive, cautionary message out into the surrounding space, a message endorsed by context of the Shankill, and enriched and reinforced by the various formal aspects of the painted figure. To encroach on this space is to receive this warning from the figure, since to move anywhere within the space is to be
followed by the barrel of the gun, which could shoot if necessary, both accurately and with backup. The depiction defends and intimidates, but it does not yet step to act. It is this risk of potential action then that therefore ensures the space of the mural is in some sense protected.
If graffiti lays claim to space as Frederick asserts, we can potentially formulate this mural as such or at least see similarities and crossovers in some of its operations. However, we must also ask questions and examine the high level of artistic sophistication often found in the mural paintings. Since conventional artistic talent and sophistication in technique are not characteristic of graffiti typically, is it sensible to examine the murals through other looking glasses? Although it may not be a fixed position as one or the other, the murals could potentially be viewed as fine art perhaps if we are to widen our overall
perspective and take an approach. I would like to examine some other material cultural expressions linked to the conflict in Northern Ireland that are easily classifiable as graffiti. It will then therefore be possible to make some
comparisons and reveal the multifaceted nature of the mural paintings. It will become clear that interplay between differing takes on the mural best
encapsulates their complex affectual capacity.
Ordinarily when we speak of graffiti we imagine conceptions of subculture and criminality. The term is associated with rebellious youth, dissidence and
contention in the eyes of the dominant cultural value systems of its given time. It carries connotations of informality, alienation, underground operation, and parasitic existences in both its form and creator. Michael Rave and Fiona Hutton develop the term along these stereotypical lines:
“Graffiti is often associated with sub-cultural activity outside of dominant hegemonic norms and values… As such, tensions exist between graffiti writers and those seeking to eradicate it from public and private space” (Rave and Hutton, 2012)
For Rave and Hutton then, graffiti is an unconventional form created by those who do not align with the current consensus. They explain graffiti as a form that constitutes an oppositional force within and against the prevailing cultural narrative. Graffiti plays the role of the defiant pest, whose existence brings and inspires wanting annihilators from within the reigning cultural hegemony.
Though they also allude to graffiti as textual type marking, rather than a pictorial expression. Ordinarily we think of graffiti as textual, “unsanctioned urban text… that sits in direct competition with sanctioned texts” (Carrington 2009, 410). A small discussion about the shooting of 16-year-old Michael McCartan can allow us to see the grave tension between graffiti and its eradicators in a cultural
narrative, but also to platform the ambiguity surrounding the workings of the highly detailed pictorial mural paintings and their narrowed scope in content when viewed as forms of graffiti.
In 1980, Michael McCartan was shot dead by the Royal Ulster Constabulary (R.U.C) for writing the word ‘Provos’ on the gable row of houses on the Ormeau Road in South Belfast (Provos is a short hand slang term used in Belfast for the Provisional IRA). The deep injustice of the murder was felt strongly within Catholic communities in the region. This short, blunt comment in a pamphlet distributed at the time rationalizes the feeling - “Painting slogans is not a capital crime” (Faul & Murray 1980, 22). The murder clearly demonstrates the severity of possible tensions around the existence of graffiti recognised by Rave and Hutton. However, of course, there are the vast formal differences between the Belfast Mona Lisa and McCartan’s simple textual slogan and this must be considered when we formulating our approach to the objects.
At face value at least, Michael McCartan’s slogan is best understood as a form of graffiti. But what makes this so, outside of this objects deeper functioning’s, is the solely textual nature of the object. Although the mural paintings have textual elements, and as we have seen in the case study of the Belfast Mona Lisa, their textual components contribute in a significant way to the pictorial affects, the paintings are pictorial for the most part. Furthermore, the vast majority of murals in the corpus share the same elaborate pictorial nature as the Belfast Mona Lisa, with complex usage of colours, technique and charged themes not ordinarily associated with graffiti. Even if the mural paintings can be approached and understood on some level as forms of graffiti, the term does not adequately cover all the dynamics that seem to be working within them.
The Da Vinciesque technique used on the gun barrel in the Belfast Mona Lisa must at least in some small part attach the murals to a narrative of fine art. I would like to take a small but relevant diversion to explore the possible socio-cultural factors at play in the common categorisation of the mural paintings outside of the realm of fine art. To ignore the elements of the mural paintings congruent with those of fine art proper through approaching them solely as forms of graffiti would not provide us with a fully sound understanding of how the objects operate in the physical geography.
“The lower classes smell…”
The conservative fine art establishment in Northern Ireland failed to recognise that the muralists were artists (Rolston, 2004). Returning to the subtitle at the beginning of this chapter, this sentiment is amply expressed. As we have seen
thus far with the case study of the Belfast Mona Lisa, the introductory opinion that the murals are inseparable from graffiti is not entirely helpful for finding an approach to the murals that considers all of their elements in work. Although a viewing as graffiti can shed light on certain modalities, others are possibly ignored. The often-complex pictorial designs and intelligent artistic methods should allow space for us to view elements within the murals as traditional fine art. The application of no one category is necessary or indeed advantageous for analysing the mural paintings and so we should look at all of relevance and value to our close readings.
It is possible that subjective socio-cultural biases play a role in the art
establishment’s rejection of the mural paintings. I would like to look at and apply a theory of Pierre Bourdieu to this rejection to fully allow potential illuminations of the mural paintings and their elements as other than graffiti and so refute the introductory opinion.
Pierre Bourdieu (1930 – 2002) was a renowned French sociologist and philosopher. In his most celebrated work, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste, he details the idea that judgements about aesthetic taste are inherently biased and can be understood in terms of a social need for distinction within the society as a whole. This idea can possibly help us to understand the contextual reasons for particular categorisations of the mural paintings, and then therefore, as we have noted, allow the opening of other categorical avenues that may lead to a more lucid conception of the objects. Bourdieu writes:
“Principles of division, inextricably logical and sociological, function within and for the purposes of the struggle between social groups; in producing concepts, they produce groups, the very groups which produce the principles and the groups against which they are produced” (Bourdieu 1984, 479)
As I understand him, Bourdieu means that the process of distinguishing one thing from another is inextricably saturated with a struggle between differing groups in the society. The principles of division can be seen as some kind of rulebook for group trying to divide and categorise cultural objects, art being only one of them. Bourdieu’s point is that this rulebook serves the group in its
struggle against other groups, and it’s application functions so as to distinguish, reinforce and create the groups onto which the rulebook is applied, whilst bolstering the distinction of the group applying the principles of division - “principles of division … objectively define the major classes of homogenous conditions and conditionings, and therefore habitus and practices” (Bourdieu 1984, 258). We can use Bourdieu’s theory as a way to interpret the Irish establishment’s rejection of the mural paintings as works of fine art. The art establishment in the developed Western world has always been
associated with bourgeois society and it’s distinctive tastes, habits and lifestyles -as Leila Jancovich notes, art is “the preserve of the middle and upper classes” (Jancovich 2011, 271). The art museum is a ritual space offering up beliefs and
values about their social, sexual and political identity (Duncan 1994, 2). According to Bourdieu, the activities of bourgeois society underline the dominance of the middle and upper classes over the lower social classes in a society, and high society members have their place fortified in the higher echelons by partaking in the activities. He writes:
“Bourgeois theatre, the opera or exhibitions … are the occasion or pretext for social ceremonies enabling a select audience to demonstrate and experience its membership of high society in obedience to the integrating and distinguishing rhythms of the ‘society’ calendar” (Bourdieu 1984, 289)
This perspective is very important for our understanding of one way the murals can be perceived and received. We can consider the subtitle at the beginning of the chapter another type social ceremony for the bourgeoisie, since it is a judgement about art given in the public sphere. Bourdieu states that to perform or take part in a bourgeois social ceremony is “to demonstrate and experience … membership of high society”. And so, therefore, we can conceptualise categorical judgements about the murals in the public sphere with the aid of Bourdieu’s insights about taste.
For Bourdieu, performing these kinds of higher social class specific activities is ultimately about social status, not about the objective enjoyment or conclusion, or superiority of the activities themselves over others of different social classes per se. To give a Bourdieuian analysis of the art establishments take on the murals then, it is not simply that they are seen as graffiti, but rather that the judgement of them as pieces of graffiti is saturated with and skewed by a social status that making the distinction confers. In other words, to label something “graffiti” is to segregate a particular group, that is, those who value, create and foster it, whilst backhandedly propping up the comparable object of taste more commonly associated with critics here, in this case, the objects sanctioned and praises as fine art by the establishment, as more worthy and higher in status. A Bourdieuian understanding of the art establishments view on the murals is especially relevant considering the geographical, social and economic
environment of the mural paintings. They are concentrated overwhelmingly in predominantly working class areas of East and West Belfast, areas stricken by wide spread poverty, un-employment and general lack of positive social
opportunities. Indeed, the communities housing the murals are some the poorest in the whole of the United Kingdom; a 1973 survey found that 95% of the houses in the Lower Shankill, where the Belfast Mona Lisa was painted, were deemed unfit for habitation without baths or inside lavatories, and many were without running water even. Given the economic and social conditions surrounding the murals, it is easy to see in what way they could be framed with associations by the conservative art establishment of the region; the murals are the work of the rough, working class, poor men and women of Northern Ireland.
The human context of the murals stands in huge distinction to the tastes and habits of the art establishment, the tastes and habits that define its place as
dominant and hegemonic culturally and economically within the Northern Ireland, at least according to Bourdieu. It is plain to see how a member of this establishment could distinguish the mural paintings from other work sanctioned as fine art when considering Bourdieu’s theory of the formation of aesthetic tastes. If Bourdieu is correct, to make this distinction is to strengthen and ensure the continuation of a social hierarchy in the region. Richard Lachman speaks about graffiti:
“Graffiti … can challenge hegemony by drawing on particular experiences and customs of their communities, ethic groups, and age cohorts thereby
demonstrating that social life can be constructed in ways different from the dominant conceptions of reality” (Lachman 1988, 231-32)
According to Lachman then, graffiti can be seen as a threat to the social position of the dominant cultural hegemony, and so by categorising the murals as graffiti, the art establishment maintains it’s position and ensures “that social life cannot be constructed in different ways”, since to distinguish them is to reify it’s own place in the society and complement it’s own tastes and life styles. A quote from George Orwell’s The Road to Wigan Pier summarises this kind of sentiment perfectly - “the lower classes smell”.
“Of course it’s art…”
If we accept a Bourdieuian analysis of the art establishments take on the murals, and further concede that they can indeed differ in formal qualities and operate outside of the workings of graffiti art, then we can safely look further afield, explore other useful conceptualisations and begin our approach proper. The definition of art given in the Oxford English Dictionary is:
“The expression or application of human creative skill and imagination, typically in a visual form such as painting or sculpture, producing works to be appreciated primarily for their beauty or emotional power”
Clearly here, under this definition at least, art radically differs from graffiti as far as we have looked at it as a form. Where graffiti is an expression concerned with challenging dominant ideologies within a culture, laying claim to space through relatively simple and primarily textual markings, art is about formal aesthetics and the emotional connection that it makes with the observer. The fundamental focus of art is unrelated to graffiti, even if some cross over between the two forms of expression is possible. I would like to close read another mural from the corpus as work of art in order to expose how the murals are not (and need not be) one sided in terms of their categorisation with artistic terminology. One of
the most striking examples we can find in the corpus possessing emotional power and connectivity is the republican mural dedicated to Bobby Sands.
Bobby Sands was a member of the Provisional Irish Republican Army who gained international recognition whilst held imprisoned for the possession of a
handgun. In 1972, the British Government granted Special Category Status (S.C.S) to all persons convicted of offences relating to the conflict in Northern Ireland. In effect this meant that prison inmates were considered political prisoners,
separating them from other inmates through both the application of exclusive procedure and the symbolic resonance of the title. S.C.S conferred special privileges, such as exemption from wearing prison uniforms and undertaking prison work. Inmates with Special Category Status were housed alongside others belonging to the same paramilitary faction, and were granted extra visits and food parcels. However in 1976, the unique status was removed from inmates in an attempt to delegitimize the Republican armed struggle. The backlash amongst Republican inmates was huge, and eventually led to a hunger strike in 1981 by a number of P.I.R.A members. Bobby Sands, depicted in the centre of this mural, was the first of ten men in total to die during the hunger strike. The story was broadcasted worldwide, bringing massive attention and sympathy for the
republican cause in Ireland. The Prime Minster in the United Kingdom at the time Margret Thatcher addressed the death with this statement – “Mr. Sands was a convicted criminal. He chose to take his own life. It was a choice that his
organisation did not allow to many of its victims” (The New York Times, May 6th,
1981). The significance of this event in Northern Ireland, and indeed around the world, cannot be under underemphasized.
The mural in memory of Bobby Sands offers up questions about the categorical ambiguity we have encountered thus far regarding the corpus as a whole, since it employs developed techniques to aesthetical ends and condenses and capitalizes on the emotional context of the its content, whilst also displaying aspects of this content using the operative modes of graffiti.
What is first striking about the mural is the epic size of the central portrait; Bobby Sands is depicted smiling with straight, clean white teeth, occupying and dominant over a vast surface area on the canvas. The bold, matt varieties of brown used on the face with shading effects contribute overall to a solid-realistic arrangement, and create the facial expression to complement the smile, giving Sands a bright-spirited, humane appearance. Nothing in the portrait alludes to the pain and suffering surrounding its creation. The display of positive, happy emotion seems to have been constructed by the artist with conscious effort, and with a high level of technical skill, imagination and well-rounded artistic ability. For this reason, we should be wary of any approach to this mural that takes the object solely as a work of graffiti. The level of complexity employed in this massive pictorial representation is very high indeed.
Further, the portrait is just that - naturally and ordinarily we recognise and identity a portrait, not a work of graffiti, and so naturally and ordinarily we should consider this angularity in our approach. At both face value and after closer inspection, we see a representation of a living being as a unique individual in the object (Freeland 2010, 5), and so to approach it exclusively as graffiti would be to ignore both intuitive and intellectual understanding.
That being said, I would argue that the portrait lays claim to space with graffiti-like method, through its emotive imposition on the surroundings. Its sheer size is overshadowing and unavoidable to any observer interacting with the mural. The emotive capability in the beaming smile and facial expression pushes potent affects into the immediate surroundings, capturing the observer into some near compulsory level of contemplation and thought about the figure, what he
represents, and why he has been depicted. It is the guaranteed success of this capture that enforces the ownership of surrounding space by the mural, housing its onlookers as welcome but constrained persons with host-guest like chemistry. The onlooker is encouraged to look, but in some way influenced to think. So in this respect, it does in fact operate like graffiti, however as we seen before in Belfast Mona Lisa mural, the technique used to claim possession of space is very advanced. Without the use of top end detail and execution in the depiction of the figure, it simply would not have the same effect. Clear emotive display and decent realism does give the mural an owning presence, but its creation has required a level of skill and talent for realism too far removed from graffiti, at least in my judgement. This raises further questions about how we identity any object as graffiti on these grounds in the first place. If we accept that an object can lay claim to space by capturing an observer, then all cultural objects worthy of attention share this criteria for graffiti. What must distinguish objects of graffiti from other cultural objects then must be the way in which the space is claimed. The murals we have read thus far seem to do this in a mode closer to that of art, through emotional conveyance and high-level realism using advanced creative
skill and imagination. And so therefore, we can safely include art in our viewing palette applied to the objects, and accept avenues of reading that this inclusion allows.
Speaking of graffiti however, the textual elements in the object are worth analysing for sure. Although not as immediately captivating as the huge central portrait, they occupy a considerable amount of physical and affectual territory for the object and play a solid role in reinforcing the overall resonance of the mural. Sands is painted wearing a clean white shirt, and a blood red v-neck sweater. The evenly spaced points on the collars seem to intentionally highlight Sands’ primary title in the same white below labels. The artist wishes to draw attention figure’s status, Bobby Sands MP, (M.P. stands for Member of Parliament, a title given to the elected representatives of regional wards in the United
Kingdom). Sands’ reputation grew massively during the hunger strike, and he gained wide spread respect and support within the catholic communities for his commitment to the republican struggle, so much so that twenty-six days before he died, he was officially elected the MP for Fermanagh and South Tyrone, whilst still in prison (www.ark.ac.uk/elections). This was the first electoral victory for hard line Irish republicanism, and it paved the way for Sinn Fein, the highly organised political wing for the Republican ideology that would enter mainstream politics a year later.
The election of Bobby Sands, and its proud reminder in the mural can be read as a penetrating blow to the reigning hegemony, the British state. Bobby Sands was imprisoned for the possession of a handgun. He was a self-confessed member of the Irish Republican Army, which was considered an extreme terrorist
organisation by the British. He was labelled as a criminal by the British establishment, and yet, he was legitimately elected under the very systems sanctioned and treasured by this same establishment. The election reminded the reigning political hegemony that there was considerable support for the armed struggle within republican communities, and brought into question the
conception of violent acts towards nationalist ends for Ireland as terrorist in nature. The artist champions the electoral victory and translates the question of what truly constitutes terrorism into a visual form, playing with the ambivalence in morality, righteousness and just cause. The mural has been painted in
contradistinction to the mainstream narrative spun by the British State. Indeed, the first statutory definition of the term terrorism appears in the United
Kingdom’s Northern Ireland (Emergency Provisions) Act 1973, which was enacted specifically to in response to the upsurge in violent republican action during the Troubles (Douglas 2014, 48). The artist seems to respond in this mural with an animated counter narrative. As Dutch cultural theorist Mieke Bal notes “narrative can be used to manipulate… It is a cultural force to reckoned with” (Bal 2002, 10). The painter gives the viewer another option, an alternative to the manipulative force of the government’s narrative, with a differing positive conception of republican ideology (which indeed in turn, of course, may be conceived as a manipulative force in its own right)
The subtitles given to Sands underneath by the artist are significant to the overall cause in that they help towards projecting a positive conception of Irish
republicanism - Poet, Gaeilgeoir (native Irish speaker), Revolutionary and IRA Volunteer. The titles selected serve to further legitimise Sands, and in turn, indirectly, the belief system behind his actions, through their surrounding positive connotations. The connotations attached to the each of the subtitles operate with clever, righteous irony, aside the connotations received from the government narrative about the republican struggle as a whole. The text speaks in harmony with Sands’ saintly, beaming smile – he is cultured and sensitive as a poet, proud and strong as a speaker of the ever declining Irish language, and a visionary leader as a revolutionary, reconfiguring the idea of a terrorist as a freedom fighter.
The textual statements in yellow placed seem to be placed intentionally at either side of Sands’ mouth to give the impression that these words are his own – Every republican or otherwise has their own particular part to play … Our revenge will be the laughter of our children. The artist seems to be capitalising here on the reputation of Bobby Sands and the sympathy he inspired for the republican struggle during the hunger strike. Bobby Sands is used as a respected figure of authority to be a mouthpiece for the political message. The glorified subtitles serve to further endorse the message, which seems to be directed both within the community and further outside to would-be sympathisers whom could
potentially be clarified or recruited. The background of blue and clouds conjure up themes of heaven, honourableness and irreproachability. This is very
important when considering the statement to the right. The use of words laughter and children is incredibly powerful in legitimising the struggle for the mural’s audience. The painter has played on connotations of innocence and purity to influence in the present, and to project into future, with a message of hope and a declaration of guiltlessness for the community. The righteousness of this message is complemented perfectly by the sky behind. It is almost given as message from a martyr speaking down from the heavens for a new kind of lex talionis – it is not by bloody vengeance, but with the happy freedom of our future generations that we will retaliate. George Herbert’s idea that living well is the best revenge is conjured by the collective, harmonic speech of the many elements in the mural. The bright, multicoloured-furnishing framing the portrait, and the surrounding blue chains, broken from bottom to top by a flying eagle, support the elements in a visually metaphorical space.
As we have seen thus far in close reading, the messages in the Bobby Sands mural are not easily contained, seeming to address both the communities in region and the international audience (Goalwin 2013,193). Neil Jarman, a leading scholar on the study of the Troubles and research fellow at Queens University Belfast, notes that the mural paintings “transcend their context in time and place” (Jarman 1998, 82). I would argue that the Bobby Sands mural is a great example of this transcendence, since there are many other places receptive to its speech. A broader understanding of the other places the murals infiltrate can help in our approach to the corpus as a whole. Approaching the murals as either graffiti or art only goes so far in the scope of understanding that can be yielded. Neither adequately cover the vast dynamic range we find in the objects- I would like to argue that it is more prudent to approach them as images.
Both Sides Now
Take these two re-appropriated images of the Bobby Sands mural, for example. The first is a screenshot from Fine Art America’s website, which has a variety of prints of the mural for sale. The second is a shot from The Guardian newspaper’s website, using the mural as a stepping stone image into an opinion column about the biases in reporting during the hunger strike. These kinds of
re-appropriations should be accounted for in our approach to the phenomenon of the murals. Since the mural paintings can easily evade a specific definition that encapsulates their workings in their entirety, the argument for disregarding a conventional artistic category in favour of approaching the objects simply as images is very strong indeed. This kind of formulation can help us determine the wider discursive networks within which the murals exist, and help us to
appreciate the reach and scope of the phenomenon as a whole.
Generally, Northern Ireland’s murals are and have not been fixed in their
individual physical localities, to be proper. The murals have been photographed incessantly for newspaper articles, used in news reports and as backdrops in political broadcasts, placed in documentaries and films about the Troubles, and stationed behind visiting dignitaries such as Bill Clinton (Lisle 2006, 29). This wide spread re-presentation vastly increases the operative and interpretative networks of the objects, and adds further doubt to blindly accepting either of the set labels we have already discussed as the only identification. To label them with a one conventional artistic category, such as art or graffiti, may be to keep them confined within a small number of discourses, limiting their possible meanings and interpretations. The phenomenon of the murals travels far beyond the contexts given thus far into many other interpretative spaces, and so to avoid limitations placed on the phenomenon by one specific category, we need an unfocused category that allows the other spaces to be explored if we are to look at the murals transparently. Contemporary philosopher Alison Ross defines image as “the sensible and visual presentation of the intelligible” (Ross 2013, 267). Image is a broad term and, of course, accounts for both viewings as art or graffiti, whilst opening the other avenues we have exposed for the configuring an approach to the murals.
The semiotic work of the Jamaican-born cultural theorist Stuart Hall (1932 – 2014) can help us understand the importance of discourses when deciphering the meaning taken from a given object, and clarify the idea that objects change when they are re-presented. Hall’s understanding of the intimate and
irremovable connection between meaning and discourse in the communicative process can also shed light on the mixed responses to the murals, from within their communities, and further a field in other interpretative spaces. In the short but highly influential essay, Encoding, Decoding, we are given a thorough
theoretical account on the production and dissemination of messages in the communication process. Hall writes:
“A ‘raw’ historical event cannot, in that form, be transmitted by, say, a television newscast. Events can only be signified within the aural-visual forms of the televisual discourse” (Hall 1973, 478)
What Hall does here is distinguish the form of the event signified from the event itself. The raw historical event refers to the actual happening in the real world, context-bound in space and time, accompanied and shaped by a set of discourses specific to that place. The event however, when shown in a newscast, is only signified, being represented through a particular medium, which is itself subject to another set of discourses. The specific contexts of the raw events cannot be transmitted in full or received in the same way, but rather they are translated within the narrow confines of the aural and visual forms of television
communication, which, according to Hall, has a “discursive aspect”, “it, too, is framed” (Hall 1973, 479).
For Hall then, the raw event is morphed and channelled into the televisual form, which is itself encompassed and created by a new cluster of discourses, along with what is required to produce a programme materially speaking - “the institutional structures of broadcasting, with their practises and networks of production, their organised relations and technical infrastructures” (Hall 1973, 479). He clarifies his view nicely stating – “To put it paradoxically, the event must become a ‘story’ before it can become a communicative event” (Hall 1973, 478). If we apply this theory of communication unto the Bobby Sands mural, for example, we can begin to understand how this justifies our approach. Bobby Sands has been channelled, so to speak, into the mural paintings. The “raw historical” Bobby Sands differs from his re-presentation in the painting, and then the mural’s re-presentation from a painting on the gable end of a house to an image for sale on a website or a introduction to an opinion column, differs from the “raw historical” painting. This may of course seem completely obvious, but what is important is how the new presentations and changes in form alter how the message is received. Essentially, the changes in form of the messages in the murals produce a change in the meanings and sets of possible interpretations. Concerning the discursive framing of the production process, he writes:
“Knowledge-in-use concerning the routines of production, historically defined technical skills, professional ideologies, institutional knowledge, definitions and assumptions, assumptions about the audience and so on frame the constitution of the programme through this production structure… Further, though the production structures of television originate the television discourse, they do not constitute a closed system. They draw topics, treatments, agendas, events, personnel, images of the audience, ‘definitions of the situation’ from other sources and other discursive formations within the wider socio-cultural and political structure of which they are a differentiated part” (Hall 1973, 479) If I understand correctly, Halls idea is that the production of the television message and its reception are dissimilar, but still bound by the same overall context – as he puts it, “differentiated moments within the totality formed by the
social relations of the communicative process as a whole” (Hall 1973, 479). He goes on to explain the reception of messages:
“The typical processes identified in positivistic research on isolated elements – effects, uses, ‘gratifications’ – are themselves framed by structures of
understanding, as well as being produced by social and economic relations, which shape their ‘realisation’ at the reception end of the chain and which permit the meanings signified in the discourse to be transposed into practice or
consciousness” (Hall 1973, 479 - 480)
In other words, the effective reception of the message is in some way dependant on interplay between discourses surrounding the production of the message and the context of its reception, again, if I understand Hall correctly. For a message to be received, for it “to acquire social use value”, the discourses surrounding the production and the discourses of the audience need to in some way complement each other. This is of course important for understanding how the messages in the mural paintings circulate.
As we have already established, the paintings are heavily concentrated in the poorest, working class areas of Belfast. Possibly, this accounts for their negative reception by the cultural establishment in Northern Ireland (as we have so far illustrated with theory from Bourdieu). The economic situation in the region may also however explain other responses to the murals from within the communities themselves, which are generally positive. There is a pride surrounding the
objects and the themes and messages they generate. This kind of argument is not an attempt to pathologize the opinions or interpretations from the communities, but one to illuminate some indisputable connections between the economic and social context, and the way in which messages from objects of this context are able to circulate and “acquire social use value”.
There are clear links between poverty, conflict and extremist ideology, which may birth and/or catalyse violence and lessen economic opportunity in turn. Virginia Abernethy, Professor of Psychiatry and Anthropology at Vanderbilt School of Medicine, states:
“Sometimes religious fundamentalism and violence appear together; more often they are manifested in different subgroups of disenfranchised or alienated sectors of the population”(Abernethy 1993, 417)
As we have seen, both the Belfast Mona Lisa and the mural for Bobby Sands contain messages saturated with views and ideas that could easily be considered fundamentalist. And fundamentalism and violence have been linked to poverty. Sociological research has found that the most disadvantaged wards are those in around the areas most affected by the violence during the conflict (Horgan 2011, 456). Furthermore, analysis of a relatively large sample taken in The Cost of the Troubles Study, funded by the University of Ulster and the United Nations,
revealed that the groups who experienced the highest intensity of violence were those characterised by extremely low household incomes (Morrissey, Smyth &
Fay 1999, 106). And so it can be said that poverty is a key feature in the understanding of the context surrounding the murals in the communities. Goretti Horgan notes this about the link between poverty and violent conflict –“Although poverty does not cause conflict, the evidence both locally and internationally indicates that conflict feeds on poverty while undermining the potential of those living in poverty to escape it” (Horgan 2011, 456) The vast majority of social housing in Belfast is segregated (that is, divided between Catholics and Protestants) and these segregated areas also tend to be the poorest (Hillyard, Rolston & Tomlinson 2008, 115). And so, it is fair to say that poverty in the segregated areas plays a role in the fostering ideological fervent and lenience that could be considered extremist on each side of the divide respectively. And then therefore following this, the poverty plays a role in the communicative process of the messages contained in the mural paintings.
If we apply Hall’s theory of the communicative process, we can begin to see how the mural paintings generate messages suitable to the communities that contain them, and indeed, how they can resonate further a field. Hall’s idea is, essentially, that the contextual backdrop surrounding the creation of the message and its reception are conductive to one another for the message to have comprehensible meaning, that is, for it to have social use value. If we take poverty as the common thread here in the murals creation and the receptive space for the murals, we can see how this kind of formulation works. The messages they purport are both created by and received in a context stricken by poverty, at least within the communities themselves, and so this allows them to have their particular
meaning. In the next chapter, I would like to argue that this particular meaning is chiefly propagandistic at its core.
Considering what has been discussed so far, we now have a framework within which to set down the mural paintings, and we can begin our approach and draw out meaning.
Propaganda?
In this chapter I would like to progress with the approach to the mural paintings within the framework previously established, and try to unpack and understand the propagandistic messages we hear purported from the objects. Undoubtedly, the murals are linked to the propaganda machines on both sides of the conflict, in some way or other. It is not difficult to find a plethora of unambiguous examples of deliberate propagandistic signalling in a number of unionist and republican paintings with shallow, surface level readings. However, a deeper understanding of how the messages work in unison can be obtained through detailed and in-depth close readings. And through the application of theory from renowned scholar Benedict Anderson, it is possible to uncover a fresh perspective on the strength and effectiveness of the mural paintings propagandistic speech.
Firstly, I will begin with a look at the propaganda aspects of our case studies thus far. Further to this, I will demonstrate an understanding of the images and the messages they proport as a key part of imagined sectarian communities within Northern Ireland. I will suggest with this demonstration that we try to grasp the messages and symbols, and sets of familiar themes and shared beliefs that permeate them, as part of wider imagined network of images, contained within and proliferated by an interdependent context. This network of images can be viewed as a key part to the effective propaganda for the ideologies, or even as part of the ideologies themselves.
Many unionist mural paintings contain elements that pertain to a propaganda effort on the part of the loyalist majority in Northern Ireland. I would like to return to the Belfast Mona Lisa case study so we can build on the close reading in the first chapter and position the image as a symbol of paramilitary legitimacy, dominance and control in the Shankill. If we analyse all the elements of the image together with the middlemost gunman, the operative nature of the painting is altered and enhanced; a harmonic relationship between the various aspects of the object can be detected, which works to champion and rally support for the unionist cause.
As we have established in the previous chapter, the central figure operates in such a way that allows the image to lay claim to space through the imposition of a potential threat to the observer in the nearby landscape. Below him, filling the two bottom corners of the wall space are two encircled crests, each with two flags protruding upwards in a north east/westerly direction respectively out of the shoulder points. The positioning of the flagpoles give the effect of an
underlining for the two portraits of loyalist paramilitary members that sit above with the empty space between their points either side of the central portrait. The positioning of the central figure, sat slightly above the two side portraits,
encourages the observer to map an imaginary near right angled triangle over the three human figures, with the effective underline made by the flag poles as its hypotenuse. These spatial dimensions appear to give the image an intelligible
structure in how its parts are positioned, which alludes to the idea that the various elements have a connection to one another, whilst simultaneously reinforcing this interrelatedness.
The choice of the artist to place the figures in such an arrangement above the two paramilitary emblems below in some way helps to reinforce the real united content throughout these elements in the mural painting (that is, that they all mention protestant paramilitary bodies effective around the physical geography of the object). It can be said that the setting down of these elements as vertices upon an imaginary pentagon shape works to champion the common ideologies of the separate bodies. The common shape, easily recognisable as a part of the union between the references, works in both a physical and metaphorical sense, shunning differences and bringing similarities into focus.
Debbie Lisle, reader in international politics at Queens University Belfast states - “the artistic skills of the mural painters are less important than their
commitment to political mobilization, resistance, and social change” (Lisle 2006, 35). However here, given the connectedness of the five items we have examined, I would argue that the seemingly agent artistic inventiveness in the item
placement acts in service toward the political aims of the unionist struggle, through their arrangement over a recognisable, everyday shape. Lisle elaborates further on the propagandistic workings of the mural paintings – she states they “generate messages of inclusion, belonging, and membership that bolster existing cultural boundaries” and “reaffirm…identities…and…status as members of a particular community”(Lisle 2006, 38), (Lisle 2006, 39). It is possible to
understand the positioning of the main components in the mural as constituting branches of the concerted propaganda effort by the painter. The observer can easily ‘draw in’ the sides of the pentagon, connecting up the referenced
paramilitary groups, and by association, their ideologies and directives, in both physical and metaphysical fashions. This, I would argue, generates a clear
message of unity between the groups, and therefore bolsters the existing cultural boundaries as Lisle describes for the murals, through the strength that unity ordinarily gives.
This is important, and especially effective in terms of propaganda, when considering the political context of the Shankill region where the mural was located (‘was’ since the painting was removed in 2016 as part of a “re-imaging” funded by the Arts Council of Northern Ireland. This removal can perhaps be seen as a supplement to this argument). As noted in the last chapter, disputes were a very real phenomenon within groups broadly aligned to the unionist ideology, as is clearly evident with the expulsion of gangster Johnny Adair from Belfast on the threat of death. From the perspective of a propaganda artist, to create images that inspire or give the impression of unity makes a lot of sense in order to foster a wider spread support that can practically effective. In other words, it is not useful for the overall cause if minor details are brought out and illuminated, both in the politics proper and in art on the canvas. With the careful item arrangement in the Belfast Mona Lisa, the artist paints all the paramilitary groups mentioned with a broad brush, ironing out minor differences and
that work for the propaganda machine. It allows observers from the community, so heavily steeped in various sub-divisions of loyalist ideology, to see the
amalgamation of the splintered factions within the ideology as a whole in one place on the gable wall, whilst simultaneously being able to recognise the
importance of an ‘umbrella viewing’ through the dominating presence the artist designs in his work. It forces them see the bigger picture, a picture that is more powerful and effective than any of singularities that make it up.
In this way, the art can serve as a very useful tool for propagandists since they can convey both direct messages in the form of information proper, and indirect, supplementary messages, through their creative choices and artistic techniques. Although the ideal of a unified loyalist movement was not always portrayed in the murals, with individually dominating paramilitary groups keen to boast their prowess (Rolston 2012, 450), we can only see the effectiveness of the
propaganda messages in the Belfast Mona Lisa more so, through it collecting and unifying the ideologies together on one canvas. The messages of dominance and prowess shine clear through the images threatening imposition on the landscape we have already discussed. This can be incredibly potent when it comes to
influencing a movement. Gregory Goalwin, sociological researcher at the University of California, Santa Barbara, writes:
“Artwork allows social movement activists to construct an image of the world as they see it, literally in the case of large visual media such as murals, creating a narrative that can help define the movement itself” (Goalwin 2013, 192)
For Goalwin then, mural painting can serve as a powerful driver of change, since it can shape and define actual social movements through narrative creation. According to him, the messages that the mural paintings purport can have a real quantifiable influence on a population. In the Belfast Mona Lisa mural, we can see the construction of a heavy loyalist narrative. The artists designing of a potential threat through the gun barrel technique on the central figure, along with the other factions of the object can be seen as a community-facing type propaganda for the paramilitary groups in operating in the area, by both new narrative creation and allusion to and linkage with past narrative. The community is stamped and encompassed by the symbols of paramilitary strength, with the large presence of the mural serving both to remind and reinforce notions of unionism and it’s active aggressive elements.
Let’s return to the content of the emblems and flags, below the middlemost gunman. The nationalistic symbols we see encircled in black are patently titled in respect to the creation of a narrative for propagandistic purposes. The titles the artist chooses allude to a past narrative, and in this sense, they create or
reconfigure it, through its will-be influence on the present – ‘Ulster Defence Union, formed 1893’ and ‘Ulster Defence Association, formed 1972’.
The careful selection of text here is incredibly important and powerful in respect to the narrative the artist is attempting to colour. First to note is that both titles
contain the word ‘defence’. The use of this word in itself is significant in relation to the objects utility as propaganda, since the connotations and associations summoned by the word function so as to legitimise the narratives that the
muralist hopes to create, whilst working to repaint actions in the actual historical narrative already that could potentially be construed as wicked. The term
defence coats the narrative with a sinless veil, and pushes conceptions of legality and justice on the observer through the suggestion of retaliation and response that it entwines. In other words, the muralist strongly invites the observer to view the violent acts committed in the name of their community as a ‘fighting back’ through the use of ‘defence’, as just retorts to the un-called for offensive manoeuvres by their common enemy. This is in turn works in such a way as to soothe a collective communal conscience surrounding the many morally
questionable acts perpetrated in the name of the loyalist agenda, and therefore, to loosen opposition to it and gather support. The mural is introducing concepts of righteousness, principle and retribution into the immediate community narrative, whilst reflecting them back onto the past with the hope of influencing the present and future narrative of loyalism.
Further to this narrative, the painter makes an effort to introduce time features to the object, making use of a long-standing tradition and common heritage for propagandistic purposes. The years 1893 and 1972 are given for the formation of Ulster Defence Union and Ulster Defence Association, respectively. Providing the dates for a collective unionist heritage back to 1893 is a sure-fire way for the painter to emphasise history as a force in the present. The artist is playing with ideas of unity and strength associated with tradition. The text conjures up vivid imaginings of ancestral commitment to the unionist cause, which seems to be aiming to inspire observers as to their duty or obligations in relation to this. Indeed, I would argue, the historic dating works in such a way almost as to induce guilt upon pride – it is as though the artist asks the modern observer to carry on the long narrative here today, thus making the text propagandistic in its intention. Furthermore, the distance between the two dates stated give a sense of continuity to the manifestation of active loyalist group efforts. Through these appeals to time and history, the painter creates for the observer a firm base onto which he can rest the justification for continued political action in the present. The painter seems to be crafting both “communal self identification and legitimizing central narrative” (Goalwin 2013, 189).
The mural also utilises concepts of state and nationhood to advocate for unionism. Although the unionist murals were not directly commissioned or funded by the state, they were undoubtedly pro state art works (Rolston 2012, 448). The flags of United Kingdom and England painted on this mural are the primary marker for the pro state operation of the object, both in how they interact and harmonise with the other elements in the murals, and in their own right. Social psychologists at the University of California, Davis, Shannon Callahan and Alison Ledgerwood have researched the effects of flag portrayal. They write:
“The mere presence of a symbol can reify a group, making a collection of individuals seem like more of a unified and coherent collective” (Callahan & Ledgerwood 2016, 529).
The flags in this mural, of course, serve as symbols of national identity. According to Callahan and Ledgerwood, “symbols could have an important impact on peoples judgements about the groups that possess them”… “Group members use symbols strategically, in that they are especially likely to display symbols to other groups when they are motivated to convey an impression of their own group as unified and intimidating” (Callahan & Ledgerwood 2016, 529). And so then if they are correct, it is easy to can see how the inclusion of flags can be an effective propaganda technique in the muralist’s palette for creating influencing messages in his work. Callahan and Ledgerwood state that the sole presence of a flag can pressure members of the community in a certain way as to recognising
themselves as a collective, and how opposing communities view them through the lens of strength placed over the group through the affect of the flag display. This in turn synthesises in-group-out-group bias, an us/them dichotomy, which is of course positively effective in any propaganda effort.
As noted and proven many times throughout world history, synthesising an us/them-type conception of human differences is extremely useful for
propagandists working with any medium. Victoria Wirth-Koliba at the University of Lodz writes:
“Various political events require different inclusionary and exclusionary
strategies to successfully and appropriately establish and maintain relations of inclusion and exclusion, and in turn to enable a political actor to exert dominance over other others and gain power” (Wirth-Koliba 2016, 24)
So for Wirth-Koliba, political actors use different techniques and methods in order to gain power over others through the establishing and maintaining of us/them (that is, “relations of inclusion and exclusion”). If we apply this kind of understating to the Belfast Mona Lisa, all of the various elements we have looked at thus far come clearly to light as efforts in a propaganda machine servicing unionism as an ideology. The middle most shooter seems to stand in defence of us from them; it could be said that this painted figure is a political actor of sorts. The two portraits either side of him with their antique, tea stained canvas, along with the nationalist symbols in the flags and the founding dates given for the paramilitary organisations allude to a narrative and tradition of us, one that stands outside, and in opposition to, them.
So in conclusion to the Belfast Mona Lisa, we can see a clear case of unionist propaganda. The various formal and intangible elements of the object work in synthesis to transmit a call to arms into the surrounding areas, a message that has extreme ‘social use value’ when considering the Shankill region, as we have done using Stuart Halls theory of the communicative process. What I find most
interesting about the mural paintings is the striking coherence and common reusing of themes, techniques and social/political contexts, and then therefore of course, the reusing or reiteration, we could say, of messages. I will explore this interest later in the chapter after we have re-close read the Bobby Sands mural. Although the aim of the messages in the murals differs in terms of appearance from republican to loyalist, we can detect similar themes and expressions to a homogenous, propagandistic end for either’s ideological core. There is no doubt that the murals painted in the name of both ideologies, if only sometimes in a small or indirect way, attempt to muster support for those ideologies. Gregory Goalwin writes:
“Organisations on both sides engaged in significant propaganda efforts, designed to transmit the organisations messages and ideologies to a populace in ways that would spur group formation and mobilize popular support for the organisations political goals” (Goalwin 2013, 192).
We can see clear attempt to synthesise a group formation through the wide spread use of inclusive language in the Bobby Sands mural. In the right hand segment of text, ‘our’ is repeated. The use of this possessive pronoun seems to be a venture by the artist to almost literally possess those sensitive to the republican cause, promulgating a collective ideology and identity. In a similar fashion in the left hand text, we see carefully selected language used towards a collective product in ‘everyone’. Both these plurals emphasise the group, and therefore, through the shared socio-political context around the murals readership, the unity of that group. To colour the spurring of group formation the artist includes another clever effect with the text, “has their own particular role to play”. This individualises the human components of within the collective, allowing the individual observer to envisage his personal space in the struggle, increasing the possibility overall for conformity. Individualisation lessens the sense of identity loss that can come with the idea of group formation through positioning the individual identity as important to the group, rather than the group being more important than the individual. I believe this is very significant in the support this mural raises for the republican cause, since the painting itself is a spotlight on one individual. The mural portrays the loss of the individual as a collective loss in both the depiction of Bobby Sands and the chosen language, offering self-worth to the content within it and to the audience viewing.
When we consider the Bobby Sands mural as part of a wider collection of images, as suggested in the first chapter due to the many re-presentations, it is easy to see the coherence in images, text and themes that the propagandists select within the context of the conflict to contribute to a vernacular, that is, a common understanding concerning the messages the murals promote to a particular group, in this case, the republicans in Northern Ireland. The muralists make great use of the charged socio-political situation to harmonize their content with the context creating an understanding of their messages. The broadest, and perhaps the most important, of these themes is the concept of struggle.
