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In Belfast, the Cupar Way Wall, between the Protestant Shankill District and the Falls Catholic Zone, is visited by many tourists. For the inhabitants, it is a "no man's land". RFI / Emeline Wine

On November 9, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, putting a symbolic end to the Cold War. Thirty years later, other walls continue to separate the cities of the world. In Belfast, Northern Ireland, the "walls of peace" cut the city for half a century between Catholic and Protestant districts. In 2013, the Northern Ireland government planned to abolish walls in ten years. A project that people do not believe in. Reportage.

From our correspondent in Belfast,

Crumlin Road, Ardoyne district, northwest of Belfast. Until 2016, a wall several meters high ran along the road. " The people in these houses could not see anything from their windows, " recalls Paddy Campbell, who has been living in the neighborhood forever.

In 2013, the Northern Irish government led by Peter Robinson announced that he wanted to abolish the "peacelines" by 2023. These dividing walls , built in portions since 1969, demarcate Catholic and Protestant neighborhoods to avoid violence. Time of Troubles (1969-1998).

Three years ago, a portion of the wall was replaced by a beige brick wall, surmounted by an elegant black grille. At the time, Paddy Campbell is not very excited: " There are still a lot of factions around here, it's still violent. At the top of the street, on the roundabout, there are still clashes between Catholic and Protestant gangs ! "

Three years later, the construction worker remains cautious: " You see, apart from people with a dog, like me, nobody walks around here ." Moreover, not all the walls of the neighborhood have been destroyed: there are thirteen other segments of varying length and height.

► To listen again: Northern Ireland: walls despite the peace

Belfast has about a hundred "peace lines", sometimes topped with barbed wire. During the Troubles, these walls were held by soldiers and concentrated tensions. RFI / Emeline Wine

The memory of the Troubles justifies the maintenance of the " peacelines "

Further west of Belfast, three-meter-high concrete blocks crowned with metal grates mark the almost mile-long border between Protestant Shankill Road and Catholic Falls Road. On the Catholic side, Benedict, a man in his sixties, remembers the erection of the barriers: " I remember that bombs were laid in the streets. I have always lived here, and I will not see them fall. There are too many divisions between us .

The areas on both sides of the walls are called "interfaces". Paul, a taxi driver, knows them by heart. He regularly organizes guided tours. For him, the memory of the violence justifies the maintenance of the walls: " People came to the enemy quarter, sent stones, Molotov cocktails, fired shots. And then everyone came home quietly and got away with it . " At each end, gates close at night.

The man in his fifties has never heard of a Belfastois desire to dismantle. " It would be a month or two. And then, a little spark and it would be gone for a ride. So, we need to rebuild the walls, "he says.

A project at a standstill

Fortunately for Paul, the project seems to be stalled today. The Northern Irish government of Stormont, behind the plan, has not been in office since 2017 because of a disagreement between unionists and nationalists. " If they can not get along with Stormont, how can we, who live near the wall, agree ? " questions the driver. " It's absurd. "

This point of view is shared by Brendan Ciaran Browne, conflict resolution teacher and researcher at Trinity College. "We already have no government at a moment of the highest political importance. Why make people even more vulnerable when they say they need this infrastructure ? "

For the academic, the approach must first come from the bottom. " It's not up to academics in their chair to decide, " he repeats. Brendan Ciarán Browne believes that an intense work of reconciliation must be conducted upstream, by the associations, for example, as the Belfast Interface Project.

"It's so hard to hate a friend"

Joe O'Donnell leads the BIP, with the goal of reviving the interfaces. " There are still many obstacles, quite understandable, explains the native of Belfast. People worry that their home is being attacked, or their family, as before . The association tries to propose alternatives to the walls, by associating the two communities with crossed projects.

" Trust is built little by little. Young people, young and old, are being made to work together. It's so hard to hate someone you've come to know and appreciate, and it's so much easier to come to terms with a friend than with an enemy. "

The community representative struggles on a daily basis to reap the necessary funds, public funding shrinking. This investment strategy, both financial and temporal, Brendan Ciaran Browne also defends. " The walls are in some of the most disadvantaged areas of Northern Ireland, which suffered the greatest amount of violence during the conflict, " he said, priority must be given to creating jobs and " cohesion between communities ... so that the walls do not really count anymore . "

Back on Shankill Road, Paul the cab driver approves: " Since the ceasefire, the people here are doing well through drug trafficking. It's a no man's land here. The ceasefire is over twenty years old. And yet, the path remains long until full reconciliation and the grounding of the walls. Physical and psychological walls.