Stephen Goss: In Northern Ireland the death of a Pope showed Unionism has evolved but religious divides can still be exploited | Conservative Home

Dr Stephen Goss is an historian, policy and research manager, and a Conservative councillor in Reading.

Habemus Papum.

After a relatively short conclave, the Roman Catholic Church once again has a Supreme Pontiff.

The death of Pope Francis produced an outpouring of condolences from across the World, with messages of commiseration ranging from the FIFA President to the Aga Khan. Leaders across Northern Ireland issued statements in response varying from deep sympathy to simple acknowledgement of the fact. It was not long however before the papacy – once again – emerged as a point of contention in Northern Irish politics with attendance of Francis’s funeral used as a political weapon.

Even in death a pope can be problematic in inter-community relations.

The recent controversy manufactured around the attendance — or more accurately, non-attendance — of Northern Ireland’s Deputy First Minister Emma Little-Pengelly at the funeral of Pope Francis highlights the delicate intersection of religion, culture, and politics that still exists, despite an increasingly atheistic Northern Ireland (according to the last census, ‘no religion/none stated’ is now the second largest group). It also highlights a significant maturation in unionist political attitudes over the past half-century.

Historically, the papacy has never been merely religious in its implications for Ireland, particularly Northern Ireland.

As far back as the 12^th Century, Pope Adrian IV’s infamous Laudabiliter Bull was used to sanction the invasion of Ireland by Henry II. Issued by the only English Pope to-date, it offered religious legitimacy to what would become centuries of English dominance of Ireland. The papacy also played its part in the events following the Flight of the Earls in 1607, when Hugh O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, and other Gaelic leaders were defeated by the forces of Elizabeth I and fled to the Continent. Their destination was Rome, a city they hoped would serve as both spiritual refuge and a source of diplomatic and military support in their efforts to regain control of their Irish lands.

Hugh O’Neill and his son are both buried in Rome. Less than a century later, James II, the last Catholic monarch of the British Isles, took his last stand in Ireland, and following defeat at the Battle of the Boyne sought refuge in Rome. There he was received by the papacy and lived out his days under its protection. His burial in St Peter’s Basilica stands as a physical reminder of the Vatican’s role as protector of dethroned Catholic legitimacy. and its connexion to the Jacobite cause. It was to celebrate the victory of William III over James that the Orange Order was founded – and whose members are not even allowed to attend a Mass.

As the Home Rule Crisis emerged, the papacy once again stirred tension with the Ne Temere Decree of 1908. This mandated that children of mixed Catholic-Protestant marriages must be raised Catholic. In an Ulster already fearful of ‘Rome rule’, it reinforced a narrative that the papacy was not only a foreign authority but one actively undermining Protestant culture and autonomy. It fuelled unionist fears of cultural absorption and erasure and is considered to be one of the factors that led to the drop in the Protestant population of Ireland in the 20^th Century.

Then, in 1963 we find the first symbolic gestures of unionist leaders trying to navigate these deep-rooted divides. Northern Ireland Prime Minister Terence O’Neill’s decision to fly union flags at half-mast following the death of Pope John XXIII was intended as a sign of respect and conciliation. Yet it provoked considerable backlash from within his own community, highlighting just how emotionally fraught any perceived deference to the papacy could be. O’Neill’s gesture, ahead of its time, would cost him political capital and foreshadow the resistance he would face in his broader campaign for moderate reform.

In 1979, the papacy once again exposed deep tensions in Northern Irish politics when Pope John Paul II visited Ireland but pointedly avoided Northern Ireland.

The omission followed intense diplomatic wrangling: while British officials feared the Pope’s presence might provoke Protestant outrage or lend legitimacy to republican narratives, others hoped he might help end the IRA’s violence. The British government discreetly pressured the Vatican to restrict the itinerary and shape papal messaging, efforts largely successful thanks to key allies in the Vatican. Although the Pope’s speech in Drogheda contained a powerful plea for peace – including a direct appeal to IRA members to abandon violence – it ultimately had no effect on the armed campaign.

Perhaps the most vivid illustration of historic Protestant opposition to the papacy was Ian Paisley’s infamous 1988 heckling of John Paul II’s speech at the European Parliament. He denounced the now saint as the ‘anti-Christ’ and had to be physically removed from the chamber. Paisley’s outburst was a theatrical expression, but a reminder of how closely theological dogma and political identity have been intertwined in the Ulster Protestant tradition.

This is why the responses of the various unionist leaders to the death of Francis are noteworthy, as there is an unmistakable evolution.

Ulster Unionist Leader Mike Nesbitt said the Pope is ‘always cherished by so many in this country, but Pope Francis clearly had an extra special place in the hearts of his people’.

DUP leader Gavin Robinson stated, ‘we extend our respectful sympathies to all those grieving his passing. While many within the unionist community may hold different theological views, it is important to recognise the profound respect and admiration that many of our fellow countrymen and women had for the humble caretaker who entered the priesthood and died as the head of the Roman Catholic church. At this moment, we acknowledge their sorrow and offer our sincere condolences’.

A far cry from the Paisleyite rhetoric of not so long ago.

Only the Traditional Unionist Voice (TUV) offered a cold and tokenistic response, stating: ‘TUV recognises that the death of the Pope is something which will be mourned by Roman Catholics across the world, including in Northern Ireland’. A statement which, while technically accurate, felt pointedly dismissive and out of step with the tone of the broader unionist response.

Then came the funeral.

First Minister Michelle O’Neill cut short a holiday in the hope of being able to attend – despite no initial invitation for either the First or Deputy First Minister having been issued by the Holy See. The UK’s limited diplomatic allocation for the event meant only senior representatives could be officially present. However, O’Neill’s office reportedly lobbied (begged) for inclusion, and after a great deal of negotiation, an offer to the First Minister was eventually achieved. Following the announcement of O’Neill’s attendance, Emma Little-Pengelly came under fire for the fact that she was not attending – regardless of the fact she had not been invited, nor was ever supposed to be.

Such complaints are politically performative.

That the DUP and Ulster Unionists felt confident enough to issue measured condolences shows how far unionism has travelled.

Where once vitriol met every mention of the Vatican, today we find moderation and perspective. The exception (the TUV) merely proves the rule, its sour tone only throwing into relief the maturity of the larger unionist parties. Ultimately, the furore surrounding attendance at Pope Francis’s funeral says far less about unionist discomfort with the papacy than about residual partisan posturing.

Northern Ireland remains sensitive to symbolic disputes, but this latest controversy demonstrates more clearly than ever that the outrage is contrived rather than heartfelt.

The reaction to the Deputy First Minister’s non-attendance reflects not genuine indignation, but a desire to manufacture grievance, seizing on a moment of solemnity to reinforce narratives of exclusion. Hopefully by the occasion of the next papal funeral the political point-scoring nationalists will have grown up a bit more.