Since Ballymena erupted in three nights of anti-migrant riots last month, tranquility has returned to the County Antrim town. The rioters, after all, got what they wanted. They won.
Dozens of Romanian and Bulgarian Roma families that fled have not returned and those that remain keep a low profile – they do not linger on the streets and are scarcely visible.
The mobs who smashed windows, burned houses and battled police in order to expel Roma – and some other foreigners – from this corner of Northern Ireland see it as a victory.
“That’s them away back home. Everybody is relieved,” said Leanne Williamson, 42, who witnessed, and endorsed, the unrest. “It was madness but it was long overdue. The Romanians were ignorant and cheeky. Everyone now is at peace.”
In the main flashpoint – Clonavon Terrace and adjoining streets – houses that were torched remain gutted and boarded up. Of the Roma families who inhabited them there is no sign. There are no official figures but one informed source with ties to the community estimated that of the approximate pre-riot population of 1,200, two-thirds are gone – or, to use a loaded term, ethnically cleansed.
“The place is empty, a lot have left,” said Kirsty, 35, a Clonavon Road resident who withheld her surname. She did not miss her former neighbours, or what she said had been a transient flux. “You didn’t know who was coming and going. Now it’s a lot calmer. You can let your weans [children] out on the street a bit further.” Did the riots achieve their goal? “Yes.”
Another local person, who did not want his name published and did not endorse the riots, said the aftermath was striking. “Ballymena was like a whole new town, there was an amazing atmosphere. It was like something out of a movie where the bad gang has been kicked out and people come out to celebrate.”
The sentiment this week felt closer to quiet satisfaction, not jubilation, but it was still a counterpoint to the condemnation last month – from Keir Starmer and politicians across Northern Ireland – of mayhem that left dozens of police officers injured. The Police Federation likened the outbreak to an attempted pogrom. Violence abated as quickly as it started and apart from reports of prosecutions the story disappeared from headlines.
Plenty in Ballymena, a largely working-class Protestant town 25 miles north of Belfast, feel shame at what happened. “They were wrecking places and causing harm to people,” said Padraig, a teenager. “It was racist,” said his friend Robert. “I don’t think it was the right thing to do.”
Their reluctance to be fully identified reflected the fact that for others in Ballymena, it was mission accomplished.
Filipinos and people from central and eastern Europe, drawn by factory work, have increased in number in the past decade, mostly without incident, but the Roma people were singled out for allegations of antisocial behaviour and criminality. An alleged sexual assault on a teenage girl by two 14-year-old boys, who appeared in court with a Romanian interpreter, triggered the riots. A third suspect fled to Romania.
“Where are the foreigners?” the mob shouted during a free-for-all against anyone deemed non-local – a scene that echoed anti-immigrant riots in Belfast and England last summer, and fuelled warnings that the UK is a “powder keg” of social tension.
However, rioters and sympathisers later apologised to non-Roma families who were “accidentally” targeted. Posters that declared “Filipino lives here”, and loyalist bunting, sprouted on doors and windows to deflect attack.
In a sign of reduced tension the stickers have gone and Filipinos said they felt safe. “We are staying, we are OK. Our dreams will not stop with the trauma,” said Karen Estrella, 35, a care home worker. Posters that declare “Locals live here” have also dwindled.
Fero, a 45-year-old from Slovakia, said he liked Ballymena and blamed the riots on misbehaviour by Roma and Bulgarians. “I’m happy with what happened. Now they’re gone.”
Authorities are unable to say how many people fled or have since returned, and appear reluctant to comment on the riots’ aftermath. Ballymena’s mayor, deputy mayor, constituency MP and several other public representatives declined or did not respond to interview requests.
The Department for Communities referred questions about the vanished Roma to the Housing Executive, which said it did not hold such information but that 74 households – not necessarily Roma – sought assistance during the disorder. Of these households, 21 were placed in temporary accommodation and others made their own arrangements, said a spokesperson.
Critics have accused unionist parties of turning a blind eye to racism – such as a loyalist bonfire in County Tyrone that burned an effigy of migrants – to avoid losing votes. In Ballymena reticence extends to some civic society organisations that declined to be interviewed or quoted.
A paradox underpins the vigilantism. Some local people accuse the Roma of peddling cannabis and vapes, and credit paramilitaries with leading the expulsions, yet they acknowledge that paramilitaries sell drugs. “Aye,” said one, with a shrug. “That’s it.”
During the Guardian’s visit this week, the only visible Roma presence was a family at a fast-food restaurant. It was raining yet they sat at an outside bench, getting wet, rather than inside.
