The shooting of two armed guards at Atrium army base by Republican extremists in February had some of the hallmarks of the old days. For many in Northern Ireland it has raised fears of a return to a troubled past. The history of Northern Ireland is one of seemingly intractable conflict between Republicans and Loyalists that has lasted for over 100 years, claimed thousands of lives and culminated in the destructive of central Manchester by an IRA blast. But then on a remarkable day in April 1997, the Good Friday Agreement was signed, weapons were put down, the Northern Ireland Assembly instigated and David Trimble, now Lord Trimble, was elected the first First Minister of Northern Ireland.

On meeting Trimble you get the overarching impression of a man for whom forceful yet methodical argument has been his trademark. A Nobel Prize winner and an instrumental figure in the Northern Ireland Peace process, Trimble has spent much of his working life talking – painstaking negotiation, back and forth, wearing down opposition until all alternatives have been exhausted, ‘it’s simple unglamorous persistence that wins out.’
So I ask him whether talking is the solution to the world’s most intractable and to the recent shootings by extremists. ‘Yes,’ he answers, ‘but talking to the right people – not to the extremists.’ Given the prominent role of negotiations with the IRA and the Real IRA in the Northern Ireland peace talks, this would seem a rather odd response from such a serial negotiator. But, pleads Trimble, the truth of the peace process is rather different to what we think we know. ‘Negotiations with extremists, the Hain-Powell consensus’ as he calls it, after Blair’s chief of staff, ‘did not bring an end to the Northern Ireland conflict, but rather the work, for many years beforehand was responsible’

Trimble is being nothing short of irreligious. If we thought we’d learnt anything from the nineties in Northern Ireland, it was that getting long lasting peace involved persuading, even charming all types to compromise, extremists included. So we should reject this consensus for dealing with extremists. And yet it’s difficult to imagine a solution to the Israel-Palestine conflict that didn’t include a role for the more extreme factions within Hamas. But Trimble’s no ideologue and accepts that the Good Friday agreement could never have been reached without the RIRA at the negotiating table. What he begs to differ on is how you go about getting to the table in the first place:
‘I’m not saying never communicate with those involved in violence but your very much more likely to succeed if you come with clear conditions for negotiations.’ This seems an old fashioned view, somewhat a reversal of the now conventional wisdom that negotiations must go on even as factions continue to extol violence.

But Trimble, as one would expect from a Nobel Peace Prize winner, is unfazed by conventional wisdom and returns to his experience in Northern Ireland. Conditions worked there he argues. ‘Look at what happened when negotiations were unconditional. We had the situation in 1972 when unconditional negotiations with the extremists, if anything, exacerbated the problem’ although he concedes that probably no talks could have been successful then.

What brought an end to the Northern Ireland troubles was as much the conditions on the ticket to the negotiating table, as the negotiations that went on there. ‘The extremists knew from the start that if there was ‘sufficient’ support for the proposals made at any peace talks, they could remain totally opposed, but it wouldn’t matter, they would be left out of any agreement.’

In criticising the likes of Powell and Blair, Trimble’s doing more than just cautioning against negotiating unconditionally with extremists, he’s rejecting the notion of parachuting personalities into conflict zones at the cost of forgetting that it is dogged determination by the people that matter that’s at the heart of peace-making. Referring to a copy of Jonathon Powell’s diaries describing Clinton’s role in leading the peace talks, Trimble nods and smiles ‘Clinton had no idea how to get the result he wanted – same as Blair – thought he could get what he wanted by charm.’
‘Those outside can encourage and assist but it is the people who are there that must do the deal.’

Trimble comes on to his most recent experience, advising Israelis and Palestinians on solutions to their seemingly intractable conflict – a role that he has taken to much acclaim. Yet he is keen to reiterate, ‘I certainly didn’t do anything that might have been telling other people what to do.’ This, I think, is the lesson Trimble wants observers of the Northern Irish peace process to take away; that there are no lessons, there is no one-size-fits-all model.

‘The experience in Northern Ireland has led to £90 million worth of programmes for working with extremists in Britain. This is based on the premise that non-violent extremists will act as a bulwark against violent extremists, supposed lessons from the Peace Process. But we must totally oppose the ideologies that promote violence.’
So I return to my original question and ask Trimble from his experience what we should think about the recent spate of shootings and apparent upsurge of support for extremism among a new generation of young people, some as young as twelve, in Northern Ireland. Perhaps here the lessons of the peace process have some resonance. He replies that young men are always going to be susceptible to recruitment by extremists; no peace settlement will change that.

Does this mean that even the peacemaker does not believe in a lasting peace in Northern Ireland? He is reminded of the lecture he gave on receiving his Nobel Prize for Peace. ‘I said there that winning was like receiving the reward for a race run while the race is still not quite finished.’ ‘This race, at least, is now won.’

The way in which we select people is a complicated affair, and one which seemingly divides Oxford. Not only do we find colleges split over their approach to the personal statement, but also to their interpretation of hustings procedures, both of which have drawn criticism this week. Cherwell would suggest we should respect the autonomy of SCRs, and by and large, JCRs, to make their own decisions about these matters.

The UCAS form: hours of deliberation, focus-grouping, re-writes and deep analytical consideration of the issues being addressed. It all seemed to suggest we were writing the next Labour manifesto and not, in fact, 47 lines of personal statement. Cherwell remembers well the emphasis and priority that teachers and heads of departments applied to what essentially boiled down to ‘my hobbies and interests.’ Now we hear that several Oxford colleges are in agreement with their Cambridge counterparts: our personal statements weren’t worth the paper they didn’t bother to print them on. The discovery that personal statements do little but ‘muddy the waters’ of the application process has understandably irritated students who feel they were grossly misinformed when filling out their UCAS forms. However, we shouldn’t be too quick to anger. Much as the haze of a couple of years might lead us to believe our acceptance to Oxford was little but a foregone conclusion, we did in fact all apply to other universities. As is well known, Oxford isn’t like other universities. The fact that some colleges now ignore personal statements does not necessarily discredit them in general. The UCAS website itself admits a likely disparity in opinion, stating that ‘some course tutors find personal statements crucial when making decisions’ whereas ‘others might not put as much emphasis on them.’ The Oxbridge application process varies significantly from the majority of higher education institutions, many of which do not ask students to attend interviews, and therefore only have the UCAS form to make their decisions. Difference between Universities, and indeed between Colleges, is something to be expected, not derided.

The same sort of inter-college disparity is present in JCR hustings. Some are dry as dust and poorly attended whilst others are raucous affairs of debauched tomfoolery, with a minority of colleges striking an effective balance. Cherwell would argue that there is room for both. There are clearly some lines to be drawn: Asking St Peter’s JCR presidential candidates to illustrate a preference between various paternal/canine intercourse scenarios, for example, is surely completely inappropriate when involved in the appointment of the most senior student position in college. Admittedly, when looking at student politics from an objective viewpoint the righteous gravity with which many apply themselves to their roles can seem a touch ridiculous. But these roles are nonetheless important parts of a successful college community, and choosing a JCR President on basis their ability to borrow a ladder seems strangely at odds with the significance most colleges give the position. So as ‘profoundly patronised’ as many Worcester students currently feel about the college’s SCR forcing an overhaul of how the JCR goes about its husting process, it isn’t impossible to understand their viewpoint. That being stated, Cherwell doesn’t suggest that the student bodies which currently require their candidates to engage in shoe wrestling, sexual hypothetics and inordinate alcohol consumption don’t care who represent them. That fact that they have chosen requirements which to some seem irrelevant to an important decision making process doesn’t necessarily undermine the elected after the fact—after all, the majority of the electorate will already be aware of the character of their candidates to some extent. We should consider all selection procedures with respect to the needs and culture of the college in question. What has been lacking from the furore over both stories this week is an appreciation for context.

The same applies to personal statements. Perhaps it was pointless for many of us to fill up those 47 lines, but for equally as many others it might not have been. Institutions make decisions in myriad different ways: One party will consider one side of the coin, the other party the reverse, the important thing is which way up it lands.