By Msgr. Noel C. Burtenshaw

(Msgr. Burtenshaw recently paid a visit to Ireland and has written a three-part series on the economy, on the Church, and on violence in that nation. The following is part 3.)

Belfast. Even the word has become loaded with a heavy sense of violence. It is the capital of Northern Ireland. Often, at its peak of complete calm, it is a city under siege. But the entire province of Northern Ireland, established by Britain in 1922, a six county area similar in size to metro Atlanta, is a people constantly under siege.

At any moment, a booby-trapped car can create panic. Shoppers on their way to pick up weekly groceries are often stopped and searched by the Army. At any time, homes may be searched, a husband may be "lifted" and detained for questioning for long periods of time. Freedom of movement may be cancelled at any time.

In the month of March after the Chief Constable in Belfast made an announcement that "recent arrests now showed terrorists (IRA) were on the run" six British soldiers were shot dead in three separate incidents. One year ago in an effort to win their point, five IRA prisoners starved themselves to death. The police, overwhelmingly Protestant throughout Ulster, are frequent targets for IRA gunmen.

The war goes on between Protestant and Catholic. But no one will admit that it is a religious war. "It's an unfortunate war," says science teacher Seamus Lavery from Queens University in Belfast. "The Catholics say we belong to this one-island-united. The Protestants want to be British. And the British after making the awful mistake of creating the province in 1922, now want it off their hands. They just want Northern Ireland gone. But it won't go away."

The reason is that the Protestant community, long known as Unionist, outnumbers Catholics 2 to 1 and ever reminds the London government of its majority status. American businessman Bruce Johnson, who operates a plant in Derry, says, "The whole thing is crazy. The economy is dying, unemployment is almost 20 percent of the workforce, new business will not move here (and who can blame them) and these people continue to die, or worse they live bitter lives over historical issues."

The feelings run deep.

Rose Dolan lives in Derry. Along with husband Richie, she returned to Derry in 1978, after living in the United States for six years. "I am threatening to go back. I loved America," says Rose. "Two of my three daughters were born there. But Richie has a god job here. And I live close enough to the border (with S. Ireland) so the three kids don't have to go to school here. I would not want them to be educated in this system. The violence and the oppression are frightening."

Rose has three brothers and three sisters. Her youngest brother, Michael, is "on the run." "He's the only one who got involved in 'the troubles.' He joined (the IRA) when he was sixteen. A year later they picked him up. After six months he escaped. Now I don't know where he is and the Army is looking for him. I hope he goes to the end of the world and I never see him again."

Rose knows that Michael will never leave. But she cries as she fears he will go to an early grave. Another young martyr for this unending cause.

The Army comes to the Dolan house looking for Michael. "Last time it was about four in the morning," says Rose. "It is an awful experience, you can never be prepared for it. The rifles bang on the front door. You have just moments to let them in before they break it down. You worry about the children. I rush to dress them, assure them as Richie lets them in. Six or eight soldiers charge through the house."

"Every room is searched. The noise is murderous as they shout and trample on everything. Every drawer is thrown on the floor. Food cupboards are searched. Jars are opened. The children scream, but no one may leave as the search goes on. Last time they finished at 9 a.m. We stood or sat while they took their time."

"The first time they came," recalls Rose, "they lifted Richie. They held him for three days and would not let us see him. He never held much sympathy for the IRA until that incident. Whatever happened in that jail -- and he won't talk about it -- has completely changed him. I am afraid, sometimes, of what he might do."

Rose explains that the British soldiers put things back in some order before they leave. "But the questioning goes on," says the young wife and mother. 'Don't I know Michael is a criminal; For his own sake, don’t I want him caught?' They never stop. But my worst memory of this search was their taking out my personal letters, letters from friends, from my husband and sitting in front of me calmly reading each one. I can't get that memory out of my head."

Three days before this writer interviewed Rose Dolan, another incident of terror involving family and children took place on the streets of Derry. William Butler, a police inspector, after singing in the choir of his Presbyterian Church, sat in his car alongside his two teenage boys. An IRA gunman rode up on a motorcycle and, as the boys watched, shot and killed their father.

The feelings run deep as both communities continue to suffer violent sorrow and outrage.

Since November, 1981, James Prior has been British Secretary of State for Northern Ireland. Mr. Prior sees some hope in establishing a form of provincial government for the province. Ulster has been ruled from London since 1972. But once more the leaders of both communities reject this new move. Seamus Lavery comments, "This move is doomed to failure. Catholics say it gives too much power to Protestants. Protestants say it does not give enough. The British want this local government to work. But everyone knows it has no chance. The people of Ulster are just not behind it."

Since 1967, when street fighting and Catholic protests began, 2100 people have lost their lives. Britain has poured money into the economically destitute province. The British government admits to spending over six billion dollars in that time. Some commentators say the actual figure must be close to a billion dollars each year.

Southern Ireland has laid claim to Ulster since winning independence in 1922. However, as the struggle for economic and political survival continues in the South, handling a new explosively troubled area would be an impossibility. "They want it," Says Seamus Lavery. "But unless the communities of Ulster find a plan for peaceful coexistence, Southern Ireland could not handle to violence and the added economic problems."

Uppermost in the British mind at this point in time is the Falkland Islands dispute. That needs immediate attention. So Ulster must wait. Unfortunately, the angry exchanges that take place in Northern Ireland as each day goes by leave little doubt that England must one day handle that unending problem also. In the meantime, the bitterness between the communities continues.

Young men are dragged from their homes under the non-forgetting eyes of their children. Others are victims of senseless killing and their offspring vow to be non-forgiving.

The disease of violence that separates two Christian communities knows no formula for permanent cure.