The following article by Stiofán Ó Nualláin was first published in Unity, the weekly paper of the Irish Communist Party.
NUMBER 2 Marquis Street is a games arcade; upstairs is a café. No blue plaque or brass plate adorns its wall but forty years ago, it was the headquarters of NICRA and at the centre of Irish politics; and in its cramped offices sat Madge Davison a communist, an activist, an organizer, weaving together traditions of radical Presbyterianism and left Republicanism with progressive politics across the city. She was part of a group of young communists who saw that winning the working classes to unity could never happen with the conflict raging around them. She showed the maturity of that position in standing strongly against what she felt was a counterproductive violence whilst campaigning tirelessly against state oppression. She saw the relationship between imperialism across the globe and inequality at home. She protested against the American invasion of Vietnam, racism in the US, apartheid South Africa and she struggled through her internationalism to find answers to what was happening on her own streets. She knew that the sectarian nature of Irish politics would prevent real progress and that a descent into sectarian and state violence would not bring about progressive change. Yet she had no time for those who might seek to defend the old orange state. For Madge there would have been no revisionist nonsense about the north being a 'cold house for Catholics'; for Madge there was a clear historical narrative, a narrative steeped in sectarianism and exclusion and as a radical in the mould of Betsy Gray, of McCracken and Sinclair, she was proud to stand as part of a radical Protestant tradition that stood in stark contrast to the sectarian hate-mongering of the early nineteen seventies. Progressive changes to equality and civil rights could only be made possible when the old Northern Ireland had gone, it has, and Madge was part of that history and part of that change; her struggle for the unity of her class, for justice and equality continues without the distraction of the fetish of violence, whether state or paramilitary. Anti-sectarianism was normal to her thinking; it was fundamental to her actions. No state could claim legitimacy whilst excluding and imprisoning those it claimed as citizens. These things she sought to change. But the scope of her political activism did not stop at challenging narrow nationalisms; the greater equality that women and people of colour enjoy now, were hard fought and Madge was part of that struggle. If she were here now in 2011, she would be raging against the levels of domestic violence, at the commodification of women and girls; she would not accept less pay for the same job forty years after equal pay legislation; were she here she would be standing up for the rights of migrant workers, she would anger at the increasing economic inequality and poverty and the theft of our commonwealth that characterizes this modern world. She would rejoice at the signing of the Good Friday Agreement, but not for long, she would take no rest from the fight for a better society. Is it perhaps too easy in hindsight to say she was right, that transcending sectarianism was the only way forward, that violence in the context of Ireland would not lead to peace justice and class unity? But she knew too that these things could not be achieved without a commitment to a life of struggle.
The role of people like Madge Davison needs to be remembered, the radical progressive positions and the risks taken for a vision of a better and just future are part of the story; it too forms part of the history of this place and in it holds lessons for us all, as we move forward still divided, still seeking justice, still fighting for equality. The contributors to this book were inspired to write about Madge Davison because they loved her, respected her, maybe they saw in her what it was to be human, of how you could care as much for people you would never see, be as concerned for generations that would follow you, as you would for your own. Her own inspiration came from her mother, her class, her comrades, her beliefs, her partner and sons. And Madge cannot be separated from her beliefs, anymore than she could be separated from her native Belfast, her beliefs do not hide who she was, they tell us who she was. These stories of her life told here are mapped across Belfast streets, Pittsburgh, Marquis, Agincourt, they are told in civil rights pamphlets penned by her hand, in black and white photographs of Bloody Sunday, in an oration given at the graveside of an antifascist fighter. None of those who have written here have forgotten their sense of being transported into a world more vivid than their own because of her presence in their lives; memories more painful because their recollection is life affirming. Her life is emblazoned across the memories of all those who knew her. She remains for them a passionate and articulate activist, a friend, a mother, a partner, and too, a communist.
To those who know her because of her reputation, who see her through these stories and here about a life lived in struggle, she passes into legend, she passes into history. She walks tall at the head of our long march, laughing and smiling, urging us on, clutching a standard, its red flag fluttering in the wind…