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Northern Ireland went into the coronavirus crisis with some unenviable disadvantages. The NHS here has been badly neglected because the administration at Stormont spent almost two decades
delaying much-needed reforms. The province’s health ministers kept commissioning reviews, each of which advocated centralising services in fewer acute hospitals and investing in social care,
but they never quite got round to taking the difficult decisions needed to implement these reports. Even more ominously, for most of the last three years, Ulster’s regional government
didn’t operate at all, after Sinn Fein collapsed power-sharing in the wake of the RHI green energy scandal. It was restored only in January, thanks to an agreement, “New Decade, New
Approach”, that already looks rickety. Against this unpromising backdrop, most of the five-party executive has tried at least to project an image of unity and calm, as the virus fastened its
grip on Northern Ireland. The glaring exception is Sinn Fein, whose northern leader, Michelle O’Neill, is also Stormont’s deputy first minister, with powers “co-equal” to the DUP’s first
minister, Arlene Foster. The republican party has taken a singular approach to collective responsibility, explaining aspects of the executive’s strategy one moment, then viciously attacking
its policies the next. Last week, an _Irish Times_’s headline described the conflict among Northern Ireland’s ministers as “Sinn Fein against the rest”. The party is unabashed about
demonising the British government and pursuing an “all-Ireland” agenda, at a time when most politicians are carefully avoiding being seen to politicise an unprecedented health emergency. In
retrospect, this opportunism was probably inevitable, but, for one afternoon at least, the party seemed to be taking a more responsible approach. Back on the 12th March, Leo Varadkar
announced that schools in the Irish Republic would close, after a noisy campaign from parts of the public. Next day, the Northern Ireland executive announced that it was keeping its
institutions open for the time being, in line with advice from the province’s chief medical officer. At a joint press conference, Michelle O’Neill said, “we haven’t come to that stage yet,
in terms of cancelling things”. Then overnight, something changed. On Friday the 13th of March, she told journalists that, “on the back of the angst that there is amongst the wider public,
now is the time to take action.” Sinn Fein’s position had changed within hours, not because of new medical advice, but in response to public opinion. Over that weekend, the party launched a
full-frontal attack, demanding that the executive accept a “joined-up approach across the island” rather than following advice that tallied with the strategy at Westminster. The party’s
representatives aimed torrents of abuse at the London government in particular. Its high-profile MLA, John O’Dowd, tweeted that “this shire of bastards are (sic) using everyone (sic) of us
in some form of twisted medical experiment.” He attached a picture of Boris Johnson and asked, “do you honestly believe that the rest of Europe is wrong and this balloon and his ilk are
right?” The party has maintained this aggressive tone ever since, acting as a form of opposition within the executive and, at the same time, insisting that Northern Ireland follows the
Republic in every respect. According to the _Irish Times_, Michelle O’Neill rowed with Arlene Foster about an early Covid-19 patient, who was sent to Newcastle upon Tyne for specialist
treatment. The paper says, “O’Neill complained he should have gone to Dublin. Foster politely but emphatically told her the location of the hospital did not matter but rather the level of
care.” A DUP MLA claims that there was a delay in giving new powers to the police to enforce social distancing because Sinn Fein was reluctant to follow Westminster’s lead. And over the
Easter weekend, the party tried to block plans to involve the army in constructing a field hospital at the old Maze prison site. Yesterday, after days of criticism, its northern leader
finally conceded that she would not “stand in the way” of troops being deployed to help save lives. Arguably, Sinn Fein’s most unpleasant behaviour has involved venomous attacks on the
health minister, Robin Swann. On the BBC’s “The View” programme, O’Neill accused the former Ulster Unionist leader of “slavishly following the Boris Johnson model”, claiming in particular
that he was responsible for an inadequate supply of personal protection equipment (PPE). Days after these comments, a 26-year-old republican was arrested for issuing a death threat to Mr
Swann, who had already received torrents of sectarian abuse. As for PPE, the minister of finance, Sinn Fein’s own Conor Murphy, claimed on the 27th March that he had placed a joint order
with the Irish Republic to buy a significant amount of equipment from China that “should satisfy our supply demands”. Last week, Dublin confirmed that “it had not proved possible to place a
joint order”, despite the fact that O’Neill assured the Assembly a contract had been signed. In typical Sinn Fein style, Murphy criticised, “someone from inside government for briefing the
media that the order had fallen through.” The insinuation that somebody was conspiring against republicans was far more important than his broken promise, which had in any case been
calculated to imply that the Republic looked out for Northern Ireland while the rest of the UK ignored its needs. Meanwhile, this week Swann took delivery of over five million pieces of PPE
provided by the government in London. Sinn Fein may claim it’s speaking up against poor decision making in the executive, but its behaviour is blatantly driven by populism and opportunism.
The party intends to blame coronavirus deaths in Northern Ireland on the “partition” of the island and the involvement of the British government. It won’t let science, statistics or decency
stand in its way. We shouldn’t expect any more from a movement that previously tried to bomb and murder its way to its political goals, but republicans’ reprehensible behaviour raises an
obvious question. Can a devolved government ever work for Northern Ireland while it’s formed by a mandatory coalition that must include the glassy-eyed fanatics of Sinn Fein?
