ANALYSIS:Understanding Iris Robinson can only be achieved through the prism of Protestant fundamentalism
PERHAPS THE most surprising aspect of the Iris Robinson revelations – the resignation from politics, the extra-marital affair, the attempted suicide bid – is the resulting wave of public sympathy in the North, not just for Peter Robinson, but for Iris herself.
It’s easier to understand the warmth of feeling towards the wronged husband, rendered suddenly gaunt, fragile and uncharacteristically emotional. But there has been little hellfire and brimstone rhetoric towards Iris from the fundamentalist Protestant community that is the natural constituency of her party, the Democratic Unionist Party founded by Ian Paisley.
You might think that this would be the perfect opportunity for a spot of thundering about the sins of scarlet women. Instead, the response from that sector has largely been quiet, muted and empathetic. Free Presbyterian pastor the Rev David McIlveen’s remarks set the tone. “I believe that Mrs Robinson has learnt a great deal through a very agonising tormenting experience,” he said. “We can only but pray for them and pray for them with great compassion as we would do for any sinner no matter what sin they have committed; acts we believe are contrary to the scriptures, but we don’t in any way despise them – as individuals we reach out to them.”
Why the soft-soap approach? Well, there’s nothing that born-again Christians in Ulster love better than a repentant sinner. And Robinson (like her husband, a devout Elim Pentecostalist) has made it clear that she is “completely ashamed and deeply embarrassed”. Though she had “damaged [her] profession in Christ”, as she put it, she was comforted that “He was able to forgive even me”.
Peter Robinson, too, considered that seeking and receiving God’s forgiveness was considerably more important than the promise of his own. That kind of language might seem strange to those outside the evangelical Protestant tradition. We don’t expect politicians – especially not the wary, buttoned-up variety like Peter Robinson – to suddenly start invoking God in the middle of a statement about their partner’s infidelity.
In some ways, it’s as embarrassing to hear a politician talking publicly about God as it is to hear him talking about sex. Both have that same toe-curling quality, and Robinson was in the invidious position of doing both. But paying due deference to the Almighty in such a situation makes perfect sense to the evangelical Christian, for whom it is a bounden duty to speak the faith.
This also goes some way towards explaining Iris Robinson’s previous behaviour, such as the time when she described homosexuality as “an abomination” and offered to put gay people in touch with a psychiatrist of her acquaintance who would turn them around.
Some have wondered why she chose to make such a statement, knowing it would heap opprobrium on her head – not to mention make life difficult for her husband in his role as First Minister.
In the light of what we know now about Iris Robinson’s precarious mental health, it’s been implied that the outburst might have been symptomatic of her condition at the time. But again, that explanation fails to understand the Pentecostalist mindset. As an evangelical, you have a duty to proselytise, and you’ll burn in hell if you have an opportunity to save souls and you don’t take it. So when Robinson phoned a local talk show to share her views about gay people, she was acting in consonance with her beliefs. Of course, those views were repugnant to many. But the words themselves, as well as the impetus behind them, made perfect sense in the DUP heartlands.
Liberals, on the other hand, certainly don’t get it. Yesterday veteran gay rights activist Peter Tatchell described Robinson as “two-faced” and a “hypocrite”.
Many share the opinion that, in recklessly mixing personal pieties with politics, Iris Robinson has little right to expect non-judgmental understanding now. In particular, there have been some especially vitriolic comments from those who felt wounded and exposed by her attacks in the past, and dark murmurings in those quarters suggest that – karma-like – “she got what was coming to her”.
According to Robinson’s spiritual logic, though, she would have been a hypocrite if she hadn’t spoken out with such force.
That’s no justification for her opinions. But it does indicate why DUP voters have not – yet – stood up en masse and excoriated her. It helps too, that Robinson is well-liked for her assiduous constituency work, which she performed with great glamour and panache, zipping around in her black and cream convertible Mini Cooper, clouds of expensive perfume trailing behind.
While sins of sexuality are easily understandable from an evangelical Christian standpoint, for whom every day is a tight-rope walk between good and evil, other potential transgressions may prove harder to swallow.
It has emerged that the public confession may have been in part prompted by a BBC investigation into Iris Robinson’s finances. Sex is one thing to the canny, hard-nosed but fundamentally upstanding unionist heartlands. Money is quite another.
If there are questions to be answered here, invoking God may not be enough to redeem the Robinson name.
Fionola Meredith is a Belfast-based freelance journalist