Yes, you will yet say yes

While Europe woke last Saturday to face the worrying implication of Ireland's rejection of the Nice Treaty, I was in a hotel in Belfast, facing the appalling vista of an Ulster fry. Fortunately, I was able to renegotiate the terms of breakfast to exclude the parts repugnant to the Southern constitution. An before I left for Dublin I bought a copy of the Belfast Telegraph. It was a sobering to see the paper dealt with the Nice poll in a short report on the bottom of page 15, beside a slightly larger item listing chemists providing emergency cover over the weekend. The Westminster elections dominated pages one to 14, understandably enough. But the Telegraph's treatment of the Republic's referendum underscored the message that the North is, to coin a phrase, somewhere else.

I had been reminded of this already. In the space of 24 hours in Belfast, for example, I was approached five times by evangelists. There are evangelists in Dublin too, of course. But the frequency with which I was given Bible tracts last weekend made me wonder if I had the word "sinner" written on my forehead. When, late on Friday night, I was also offered "tea or coffee" by a group of on-street missionaries, I started to worry about my appearance in general.

Faith remains strong in the North, where many people believe that not only will the dead arise, but that large numbers of them voted last week. Meanwhile, canvassing for Judgment Day and the election of the chosen few is ongoing and urgent, as though each week could be the last of the campaign.

In the Republic, when a stranger stops you in the street and says, "You'll do the right thing for me, won't you?", you know he's a politician with a line in euphemism. In Belfast you know he's a missionary, and about as likely to resort to euphemism as drink. There's no time to waste, he believes. Salvation is on the first-past-the-post system here and, contrary to what Southerners may think, there'll be no chance of anyone sneaking in on transfers.

Even candidates for the Earth-bound elections quote the Bible in their victory speeches. And sometimes, they don't have to quote it. At the count I attended, the DUP's Iris Robinson simply referred supporters to "Joshua, Verse 3", and they nodded knowingly. As a sinner, I had to check with The Irish Times library, which informed me that the passage refers to the Israelites crossing the River Jordan. And it is a fine passage, as the Old Testament goes. Even if, in an increasingly polarised Northern Ireland, the question of whether the Paisleyites will be able to cross the river Bann again without divine help was worrying supporters.

Until last week, Ulster cornered the market in saying "no". But such is the pace of change in the Republic that, after 24 hours out of the jurisdiction, I returned to a different country. The referendum had changed everything. Decades of being model citizens had been swept aside, and we were suddenly the pariahs of Europe.

The past week has seen more soul-searching than on a Friday night in Belfast. The EU appears to have ruled out renegotiation, while the Government's response has been to establish a national forum "at which it hopes the public fears that led to last week's defeat will be allayed" in advance of a new poll next year. So - if I understand this correctly - the official strategy is that "no" voters are to be offered counselling.

In the meantime, while European reaction to the result ranged from "Zut alors!" to "Schweinehunde!", it was good to see some sympathy for the Irish position. Specifically, speaking in the French assembly, former president ValΘry Giscard d'Estaing said that, if the French people were asked what they thought of the treaty, "I fear they would answer you with an Irish ballad". The idea of Irish ballads sung in French is something we would all fear. But the Government here will be hoping that, if the electorate is in the mood for singing next year, it won't be to a chorus of "no, nay, never". There is a tradition in Ireland, in the South anyway, that the word "no" is regarded more as an opening position than an answer. So it's fair to expect the next 12 months will see the main political parties emulating Father Ted's housekeeper and urging Eurosceptics "you will, you will, you will!" until they're blue (with 12 stars) in the face.

Having said that, one can't accept the paranoia of some "no" campaigners, who would have us believe vast resources will be used to persuade public opinion in favour of a "yes" vote. Or that unseen forces will be brought to bear, perhaps infiltrating even humble newspaper columns with subliminal messages. But now, if you'll excuse me, I have to attend some of today's Joycean celebrations in Dublin, which will no doubt include Molly Bloom's soliloquy, with its famous climax of "yes I said yes I will yes".

fmcnally@irish-times.ie