By Eóin Dawson
Belfast is buzzing following the Fleadh. By any objective standard, the hosting of Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann in Belfast was historic, drawing a record-breaking crowd well in excess of one million people. Across the city centre – a space that serves as a vital shared hub for all communities – the streets were filled with music, dance, and collective celebration.
Crucially, the success of the festival lay in its inclusive showcase of authentic local and international music and culture. What was particularly noteworthy was how Irish musicians and language speakers, having themselves historically experienced oppression, are increasingly and openly embracing the Ulster-Scots tradition as an integral part of the diverse, shared culture of these islands. From Lambeg drumming workshops to Highland dancing alongside traditional sessions, the event demonstrated how rich our cultural landscape becomes when approached with genuine openness.
For countless people, the Fleadh provided a rare and transformative experience, seeing Belfast city centre at its absolute best; a vibrant, welcoming, and safe environment for families, locals, and visitors alike.
A Neglected City Centre
Yet, the contrast between the atmosphere during the Fleadh and the everyday reality of Belfast city centre could not be more stark. For many residents, the city centre is too often defined by decay, deprivation and the signs of a deepening housing crisis, highlighted by the criminally underserved unhoused population.
Why is our core shared space not this welcoming year round? The answer lies in the material priorities of the political establishment. The Fleadh proved that when public resources are directed toward community life, shared culture, and public space, Belfast can thrive. But once the stages are packed away, the underlying crises of poverty, lack of social housing, and underfunded public services remain untouched.
Reclaiming the Streets: The Showcase for Pedestrianisation
The Fleadh also provided a practical glimpse into what a transformed Belfast could look like on a daily basis. By handing the city centre over to people rather than traffic, the festival demonstrated the massive appetite that exists for pedestrianisation.
Cities across the world have shown that removing cars from important urban spaces creates vibrant, healthier, and safer environments for everyone. Belfast should be no exception. A permanent pedestrianisation strategy for the city centre is a common-sense demand that would reclaim public space for workers, families, and culture. Crucially, this must be executed sensitively, ensuring robust infrastructure, accessible transport, and dedicated access so that people with mobility issues and disabilities are fully facilitated rather than sidelined. The Fleadh showed what is possible when our streets belong to the people; now we need to make that vision permanent.
Who Made the Fleadh… and Who Profits?
To understand the full picture, we must confront the economic exploitation surrounding the festival. The Fleadh was made possible by working-class effort and public money. It was funded through taxes paid by working-class people, organized largely by volunteers, and run by the low-paid workers who kept the city moving; hospitality staff, security workers, cleansing teams, and transport staff.
While these workers put in long hours to make the event a triumph, local businesses, hoteliers, and publicans reaped a massive financial dividend off the back of this public sector investment.
It is not enough to praise the “spirit” of Belfast without addressing the material reality. If public funds and working-class labour created millions of pounds in private profit, then fairness demands that the gains are shared. The workers who made the Fleadh happen deserve more than applause – they deserve fair pay, decent conditions, and a direct share of the economic windfall generated by their labour.
Culture Liberated from Capital: The Origins of Mutual Aid
Yet alongside this commercial extraction stands a striking counter-example: the organizational model of the Fleadh itself. While Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann and its governing body, the Ard-Comhaltas, would not define themselves as socialists, their modus operandi during this festival was fundamentally socialist in spirit.
In an era where live music is increasingly monopolized by corporate giants, gated behind extortionate ticket prices, and plastered with aggressive corporate sponsorship, the Fleadh stands as a striking alternative. This non-commercial ethos developed in an economic reality where commercial capitalism simply did not value traditional music. Because the market discarded their culture, activists built their own alternative framework rooted in volunteerism, accessibility, and collective effort.
Thousands of volunteers gave their time and energy simply for the joy of sharing music and community. It was a living demonstration that when people organize outside the capitalist framework for human fulfillment rather than profit, they can deliver an event that eclipses anything produced by corporate capitalism.
A Rejection of Far-Right Hatred and the Reality of Class Solidarity
The timing of this festival could not have been more important for Belfast, coming after a period marked by horrific far-right, racist violence that saw migrant families targeted and burned out of their homes. At that time, racist agitators applauded a handful of instances where Republicans and Loyalists stood side-by-side in race hatred, falsely hailing it as an unprecedented, historic moment of unity against an “invasion.”
That toxic narrative was a complete distortion of who we are. The real invasion happening in our communities is not by migrants seeking a better life; it is the economic invasion of global corporate landlords and billionaires buying up assets, driving up rents, and deepening the cost-of-living crisis. Inequality is the enemy, not our migrant neighbours.
The overwhelming turnout at the Fleadh showed Belfast’s true colours. The vast majority of people here, from any community, are not racists; they want to live in a diverse, welcoming, and peaceful city. The festival was a powerful, practical demonstration of working-class unity that stood in defiance of the poison of race hatred.
When working-class people stand together, it is not a fragile anomaly, it is our history. Working people in Belfast have stood shoulder-to-shoulder for decades in their trade unions, in mixed workplaces, and in shared neighbourhoods, even through the darkest days of the Troubles. A poignant example of this shared cultural space in action at the Fleadh was the participation of the Shankill Defenders Flute Band alongside traditional musicians – a moment that highlighted how cultural expression can exist without sectarian hostility when freed from sectarian interference.
The Media’s Sectarian Autopsy and Cultural Anxiety
Despite the immense success on the ground, almost immediately after the last notes faded, the political and media establishment began their predictable routine: a sectarian autopsy. Commentators and politicians spent days pulling the event apart, attempting to reshape a joyous cultural gathering into the familiar, tired framework of “us versus them.”
Lazy comparisons were drawn in media debates between the Fleadh and other major summer events, namely the 11th/12th of July celebrations and Féile an Phobail. These comparisons miss the fundamental nature of these gatherings. While different in their expression, both the 12th of July and Féile an Phobail have explicit, foundational political stances; one rooted in unionist/Protestant identity, the other evolved from Republican anti-internment traditions.
The Fleadh, by contrast, is not and has never been a political project. It is inherently a cultural celebration – primarily celebrating traditional Irish music, arts and language, while actively incorporating Ulster-Scots traditions and the rich expressions of newcomer communities. The leadership of Ard-Comhaltas deserves genuine applause for their deliberate, proactive efforts to ensure the festival was broad and representative.
We must also acknowledge, however, that a minority of Protestants feel deep anxiety around such events, viewing the scale of the Fleadh through the lens of “creeping nationalism”, fearing an eventual slide toward a United Ireland where their identity might be sidelined. Where political expression occasionally surfaced on the fringes, it was exploited to feed those anxieties. Yet there was no grand political intent behind the festival.
Why is the Fleadh retrofitted into a sectarian narrative? Because Northern Ireland’s political system is institutionally constructed around division. When an event brings over a million people together in celebration and solidarity, the political establishment is structurally incapable of processing it as anything other than a territorial win or loss. The system must reframe shared experiences through a sectarian lens to justify its own existence.
A System Out of Step with Its People
Ultimately, the Belfast Fleadh leaves us with one unmistakable reflection: our divided political system simply does not represent our people.
While the political establishment remains trapped in the rigid logic of sectarianism – carving up resources, stoking anxieties, and managing division – the working class in Belfast demonstrated that they are leagues ahead of those who claim to govern them. People want shared spaces, cultural vibrancy, decent living standards, and genuine solidarity.
Until we build a political movement that reflects that reality – one grounded in class struggle, economic justice, and true cross-community unity – our political institutions will remain a relic of division, endlessly attempting to tear apart the very solidarity that working-class people practice every single day.
