Our education system is rooted in division, says Denzil McDaniel. File photo from Wikicommons
I met a friend recently who was soon heading off to Finland to see his partner who is a teacher there.
“He simply can’t believe the complexity of segregation of our education system,” my friend told me.
“Finland has education sussed. For starters, a newborn’s maternity pack leaving hospital contains three books; one for each partner and one for their little one to encourage a culture of reading.”
Finnish children learn through play until the age of seven and only then do they enter more formal schools and for the next 11 years there is no selection, tracking or streaming. And pupils are expected to encourage and help to bring their fellow students’ standards up.
Finland’s education system regularly scores very highly in international studies comparing countries.
“But the real benefit,” my friend reckons, “is the wonderful attitude that everyone in society is considered of equal value and respect.”
In my hometown of Enniskillen, Co Fermanagh, with a population of barely 20,000, I counted 10 schools.
The division is greatest in the post-primary sector, with seven different schools which divide teenagers in terms of gender, academic ability, religion, socially and even class.
Quite apart from the financial implications of multiple systems, it makes for a society in which many young people don’t encounter people from the “other side” until they go to university or get jobs.
This segregation isn’t just limited to schooling; even in a town such as Enniskillen, which has much more interaction between the two traditional tribes than most towns in Northern Ireland, there is a divide in social housing.
There are all-Protestant estates and all-Catholic estates with little rapprochement between the two communities, with separate social activity and even separate sport.
In Enniskillen, the town’s large municipal cemetery of Breandrum has a path running through the middle, with Catholic graves on one side and Protestant one on the other.
Even in death, the division persists.
The scenario I’ve outlined is, admittedly, something of a generalisation as there is plenty of contact between the two sides of the traditional divide, increasingly so and particularly among younger people.
There is an acceptance that the two communities have more in common than that which divides.
However, there are still considerable physical divisions which became even more psychological during the conflict as people retreated to the safety and certainty of their own silos.
Last month, First Minister Michelle O’Neill launched Sinn Féin's new policy with the stated aim of ending sectarianism.
The full title of the document, 'Ending Sectarianism Segregation', is interesting in that it links segregation to the cancer of sectarianism which has dogged Northern Ireland society.
The policy includes action on key areas including housing, jobs, and education.
The document stated that Sinn Féin is committed to the removal of interface barriers, adding that “sectarian segregation is a political, practical and psychological obstacle preventing the emergence of shared neighbourhoods and shared space".
There are also sections about dealing with the past and engaging with identity issues.
While the document refers to all citizens being cherished, respected and protected, it’s the sort of language we’ve heard before.
Reconciliation hasn’t been achieved in the past, and with the continued divided living arrangements, achieving it now won’t be easy.
The policy document is important, but such is the reluctance to trust Sinn Féin in some unionist quarters, convincing unionists will be difficult, albeit crucial.
However, while the noise over wider political issues often drowns out the conversation at civic level, the document provides a reminder of the need for building grassroots relationships.