In Northern Ireland the topic of remembrance is, to say the least, complicated. From above a narrative is encouraged that the Good Friday Agreement, power-sharing, is as good as we can expect from a post-conflict arrangement. From the bottom up, however, divided communities remain starved of reconciliation and anything remotely resembling political leadership.

Long before the renewable heating incentive scandal (remember RHI?) brought down the Stormont Executive last January, very public clashes between unionism and nationalism over Northern Ireland’s past conflict foreshadowed the collapse of power-sharing. In 2013, for instance, the offer of European funding (£18million) for a peace centre at the former Maze prison site was withdrawn amid unionist concerns it would become a shrine to republican martyrs. Subsequent disagreements over Brexit and the Irish language are noteable, but prolonged rows over ‘truth recovery’, violence and killings committed during the Troubles and which actors – state or terror groups – should be brought to justice have been bubbling beneath the surface.

So long as communities continue to dispute the past and how the story of the Troubles should be told, how can we expect to forge a shared narrative for the future? If the circumstances of deaths during the conflict continue to be contested by politicians, and memories held hostage by trauma and relived through the mainstream media equally as guilty as politicians of looking to the past rather than the future, will our dead ever rest with dignity?

At Queen’s University Belfast recently, former Sinn Féin MLA now honorary professor Mitchel McLaughlin floated the idea of establishing a memorial or healing wall – a sculpture say modelled on Washington, DC’s Vietnam Veterans memorial wall – which would list and immortalise the names of the 3,700 persons killed during the near 30 years conflict.

Having travelled to Washington, DC and seen the memorials for myself just this month I’d argue that there’s real value in this train of thought. Could a model along the lines of Arlington National Cemetery work? Honour, remember, explore is the call of Arlington Cemetery – a burial ground and living tribute to those who served the US during times of war as soldiers, astronauts, nurses, chaplains; nature of contribution and sacrifice during times of war are non-exhaustive. Visitors are implored to reflect on the names embedded on the 400,000-plus headstones and ponder the stories that each person could tell.

In the US a popular mantra is that America is not made, it’s in the making. The same can be said of our peace process – the Good Friday Agreement signed twenty years ago shouldn’t be seen as the end of a process, rather another chapter still waiting to be written. If we could take inspiration from Arlington, the purpose of a shared cemetery by the former Maze site should not be to interrogate the context of death behind each headstone. Rather, the common thread should be the acknowledgement of tragedy of conflict – our conflict – and triumph of compromise over violence.

But could we really build this at the former Maze site? In 2013, then UUP leader Mike Nesbitt described it as “the most toxic and divisive site that you could possibly choose for such a building [then proposed peace centre]. It is clear there will be an undue focus on the prisoners rather than their innocent victims.” Of course, the Maze is a contested space, but Arlington Cemetery’s grounds have their own history. Formerly owned by the family of Robert E. Lee, who commanded the Confederate States Army during the civil war, at the onset of the Civil War federal troops occupied the property as a camp and headquarters and established a portion of the estate as a way to assist slaves transitioning to freedom. It became a burial location – by the end of the war, thousands of services members and former slaves were laid to rest there. The house formerly occupied by General Lee still stands but the grounds have evolved over time.

The Good Friday Agreement has been failed by our politicians, not vice versa. Lack of political leadership, of dignity for all our dead and respect for families prevents any shared attempt at remembrance. Could replicating the Arlington Cemetery model at the Maze be the next piece in the peace process ‘jigsaw’? It would immortalise the names of all who died, as Mitchel McLaughlin suggested; it could implore visitors to ponder the perspectives from both sides of the conflict; and ultimately encourage the forging of a shared narrative as we look to the future.

At a time when agreement, any agreement, is sorely needed if not to get the Assembly back up and running then to at least reignite the process of healing here, perhaps this is something politicians from across the spectrum should consider further.

Also published on Medium.