The Peace Wall: A Divide Between Friends and Communities, But Can It Ever Truly be Broken?

Jim White, now 69 years old, remembers the day when he lost his best friend due to an eight-meter high wall that separated Belfast’s Protestant north from its Catholic west. Despite the passage of time and the transformation of the city, White still values the closure of the Peace Wall gate on North Howard Street at night as a precaution.

Half a kilometer away from White, Michael Culbert is making history come alive for visitors through his association Coiste, offering political tours along the Peace Wall. Culbert, a former IRA member who joined the organization at 23 after witnessing Bloody Sunday, aims to shine a light on politically condemned people like himself and make their stories visible. He has taken over 16,000 people on tours to central points in Belfast to explore its history.

Tour guide James Ellison takes visitors through Belfast’s conflict hotspots, sharing stories of pivotal events such as the Abercorn Restaurant bombing and spaces where young Protestants and Catholics could socialize together. While tourism in Belfast has thrived since 1998, surpassing a billion euros in revenue, Ellison emphasizes that peace remains fragile due to recent incidents of violence related to Brexit concerns.

Younger residents like Gemma Gabbie and a group of teenagers are more focused on moving forward than dwelling on Northern Ireland’s troubled past. Gabbie believes that the Good Friday Agreement has served its purpose while advocating for longer hours for the Gates of Peace to remain open and bridge community divides in Belfast. The future of Northern Ireland rests on finding a delicate balance between its tumultuous past and hope for a peaceful future where walls no longer separate friends or communities.