The Fleadh in Belfast

 The Fleadh in Belfast

Ben Pantrey

This year, 2026, the Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann took place in Belfast for the first time, marking the annual festival's 75th anniversary. This was not the first time the Fleadh was held in Northern Ireland. Derry hosted it in 2013, and attracted an estimated 400,000 people. It was, however, the first time it ever took place in the Northern Irish capital, and some visitors expressed curiosity about what reception a traditional Irish music festival might meet in a city marked by identity politics, and where even the use of the Irish language was politicised.

Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann is the largest celebration of Irish music and culture in the world. It is run by Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann (CCE). The foundation of the Fleadh dates back to 1951, when representatives of the Piper's Club, Dublin met in the Midland Hotel on Mount Street, Mullingar to arrange the first Fleadh. Among those present was my great-uncle, Jim Seery, who was also elected member to the first standing committee of Cumann Ceoltóirí na hÉireann. The first Fleadh took place in Mullingar in May, 1951.

The Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann is a fruit of the Gaelic Cultural Revival of the late nineteenth century, a form of cultural nationalism whereby forms of art and culture identified as typically "Irish" were promoted. One expression of this was the GAA, which sought to replace tennis, cricket, polo and what Archbishop Croke of Cashel called "other foreign and fantastic field sports" with Gaelic football and hurling. 

In Northern Ireland, Irish culture is often politicised and portrayed as being hostile to British identity. For example, when in 2025 Infrastructure Minister Liz Kimmins announced bilingual English-Irish signs would be installed in Belfast Grand Central station, Loyalists objected, with Unionist Voice Policy Studies calling it an "unlawful decision to aggressively impose Irish language." As of today, there are still no Irish signs in the station.

The Fleadh's success in Belfast owed largely to its inclusivity. UNESCO designated Belfast a City of Music in 2021, stating "Belfast's music heritage is reinforced by traditional cultural organisations as well as a network of community-based flute and pipe bands." The CCE engaged with the Unionist bands forum early in the planning process, repeating what had been done when the Fleadh was held in Derry. As Freya McClements noted in The Irish Times, "the Shankill Road Defenders Flute Band was among those to play on the main stage at Belfast City Hall", and the quality of representation and relationship with the Ulster Scots and Ulster-British identities achieved by the Comhaltas was praised by Ulster-Scots commissioner Lee Reynolds.

On the second day of the Fleadh, 3 August 2026, I took the Belfast train from Connolly station. The weather was beautiful, and the views of the seaside as the train skirted Malahide were magnificent. The carriage chattered with joyous anticipation, disturbed only by a row over a pre-booked seat at Drogheda. 

At Dundalk, a father and his three children, who seemed to be in their final years of primary school, sat near us. I listened with some interest as his daughter asked, "Is Belfast in the United Kingdom?".

"Belfast is in Ireland." the father answered.

"It says on my phone that we're in the United Kingdom now. And the internet isn't working anymore."

He didn't reply to that.

The father's reluctance to acknowledge Northern Ireland as a distinct state is indicative of its contested nature. As the academic Lynsey Black writes, "Even the term 'nationalism' in Northern Ireland refers to a political standpoint which disavows the state of Northern Ireland in favour of 'Irish' nationalism." (Black, 2026) For nationalists, the word "Ireland" conveniently signifies both the 26-county state and the island as a whole. This fuzziness is not recognised by telecommunications companies, however, who have to draw the line somewhere.

For all the talk of an invisible border, the entry into Belfast wasn't seamless. After disembarking, we queued up for a man in an orange high-vis vest to check our tickets one by one. The reason for this was that our train tickets were not recognised by the ticket machines on the gates in Belfast Grand Station. The "check" consisted of a clearly bored man gazing into the far distance as he waved each passenger through the gate.

It was my third visit to Belfast, but the first time I would be spending any time in the centre. We decided first to drop our bags off at the International Youth Hostel, where we had booked a room for the night. Turning right from the Belfast Grand Central, we immediately encountered a huge mural celebrating the victory of King William of Orange against the Catholic King James II in the 17th century. This was Sandy Row, and the mural that was displayed here until 2012 was much more inflammatory in its declaration: 

"YOU/ ARE NOW/ ENTERING/ LOYALIST SANDY ROW/ HEARTLAND OF SOUTH BEALFAST/ ULSTER-FREEDOM FIGHTERS/ QUIS-SEPARABIT". 

The Latin motto at the end meant "Who will separate us?". This street is famous for its allegiance to the British Crown, and murals of deceased monarchs continued up the street, along with Union Jack bunting, red, white and blue painted kerbstones, and arches with mottos like "FEAR GOD. HONOUR THE KING. LOVE THE BROTHERHOOD." Note: not to be confused with "love thy neighbour".

I was ready, visiting Belfast, to see signs of divisions, such as "peace walls" and flags, but I was surprised to see it immediately, rather than at the outskirts of the city. Beyond the display of loyalist allegiance, I was struck by the eerie quietness of the street. Almost every shop was closed and shuttered. At the top of the road, beside the hostel and the Orange Hall was fresh graffiti. A newer slogan: "STOP THE BOATS". At the traffic lights, I waited beside two young Asian men, possibly students at the nearby Queen's University. I wondered how they felt living here.

The initial walk through Sandy Row was unnerving, but the mood was completely different in the centre. Here, there was a feeling of festivity, enjoyment and relaxation. A "Gig Rig" stage was set up in the grounds of Belfast City Hall. Performances took place in a number of different venues, and buskers, mainly children, danced and played in the street. Volunteers in distinctive yellow t-shirts were visible directing people. The atmosphere was excellent.

The city centre was largely pedestrianised for the Fleadh. It was a pleasure to walk the wide roads and admire the impressive public buildings without worrying about traffic. This reaction was widely shared and in August 2026, Infrastructure Minister Liz Kimmins has said she will "bring forward a consultation which will include proposals for the expansion of pedestrianization in Belfast city centre", highlighting the success of the Fleadh. The Stormont Department for Infrastructure has stated "consideration of measures such as the expansion of pedestrianisation within Belfast city centre are currently being finalised for public consultation."

This is a pattern familiar to me from Mullingar's hosting of the Fleadh after the pandemic. The anticipation of increased footfall from visitors, who would mainly reach the town by rail, led to an overhaul of the town's traffic flow. Certain streets, such as Mount Street, were made one-way, and pavements elsewhere were widened. The kneejerk response from local drivers was negative, but soon lessened as the benefits of a safer, cleaner and more pleasant centre became apparent. Festivals like the Fleadh can usefully spur improvements to public space.

The city centre of Belfast is charming. There are vintage shops, cafes, and pubs to rival Dublin. The "Entries", narrow alleyways off the main thoroughfares, which can be used as short-cuts, and often hide a cosy pub, were a fun feature of the urban environment. They also offer a lot of verbal fun. "Joy's Entry" takes the cake. The brickwork in Belfast was also impressive, and there are buildings of a range of styles and periods. Explanatory plaques are plentiful and informative, and some of the Victorian interiors, like that of "The Crown" pub were breathtaking. What also stood out was the street art and murals. Many of them looked freshly painted, without any signs of graffiti.

In June 2026, Belfast broke out into riots, mainly in loyalist areas. The riots were sparked when a video appeared online of a horrifically violent attack by a Sudanese migrant on Stephen Ogilvie, a white man. Amplified by far-right groups and the destabilising agenda of social media platforms, such as X, outbursts of rage appeared on the streets of Belfast. This escalated to a shocking extent as masked, highly-organised young men went door to door looking for those they considered "foreigners" and torching houses in what The Times and the Irish Times called a "pogrom".

On Donegall street, we stumbled upon "An Tearmann". Held in the Redeemer church, An Tearmann is a community centre set up in the wake of the pogrom to affirm the care, support and solidarity of communities in Belfast with those targeted by the far-right. The group is associated with CATU Belfast. It operated throughout the week, running workshops, activities and discussions.

The organisers of 'An Tearmann' recognised the Fleadh as an opportunity for raising awareness about their concerns while expressing frustration towards Belfast authorities for what they perceived as whitewashing. In a pamphlet they asked "if the state can move mountains to welcome visitors now, why has it failed to provide the same level of support to people who call Belfast their home?" This echoes criticisms of the Irish government during events like the EU presidency - that issues such as housing and anti-social behaviour are swept under the rug when the state welcomes a wider public.

The number of spaces hosting grassroots and community organisations in Belfast was heartening to see. In contrast to notable examples of decay, such as the old courthouse and Annesley street synagogue in North Belfast, were examples of derelict buildings being put to new use. Beside the Orange Lodge on Clifton street, part of a former Methodist church is home to the Indian community centre. Meanwhile, the abandoned Oldpark Carnegie Library is being kept alive by local communities, which holds classes on traditional looming techniques. The Duncairn is a venue for music and other cultural performances. Also noteworthy was the "Electric Light Station" in the centre, run by Lavery's as a slightly noisy drinking venue in what was Belfast's first power station. Such places emphasise Belfast's distinct character and show Belfast picking up the slack where otherwise beautiful buildings would have been left to decay. It demonstrates a spirit of intervention and community-building that serves as an example for cities elsewhere.

We went to a céilí at the Europa Hotel, once known as the most bombed hotel in the world. The function room was packed with people, mostly older, but with a fair amount of young people. The caller, who gave directions to the room and announced each dance, made optimistic remarks about seeing young people attend, and the importance of keeping the traditions alive. Once a site famous for violence, that evening it served as a place for fun and visitors to encounter locals in a relaxed and participatory manner.

Some of the dances involved long sequences of complex steps, and I was impressed by how familiar most of the people in the room were with them. One older couple I spoke to said they regularly attended céilíthe, and the husband was not shy about seizing my arm and ensuring I moved through the steps correctly. 

The céilí was the most social event I experienced in Belfast. There were many natural opportunities to speak with people, and the act of spinning somebody around naturally breaks the ice.

Overall, the Fleadh did not appear politicised. Perhaps it is due to the successful engagement of musical communities within the city, but this celebration of Irish culture did not seem to ignite nationalist-loyalist debate. Music and dance appeared to many as a neutral ground on which members from different communities could participate and enjoy.

This very spirit of de-politicising Irish culture, of looking forward, and finding common ground, is politically significant. As Douglas Hyde said of Gaelic, "The Irish language, thank God, is neither Protestant nor Catholic, it is neither a Unionist nor a Separatist." Protestants and Unionists were central to the initiation of the Irish cultural revival. These included the Reverend Richard Kane, Grand Master of the Belfast Orange Lodge and Standish O'Grady, a "Unionist discoverer of legendary Irish history" (Kee, The Green Flag, p. 427). The celebration of Irish traditional music and culture in a way that brings communities together shows the Irish cultural revival movement returning to its roots.

When the CCE was founded in 1951, and my great-uncle elected treasurer of the first standing committee, Irish traditional music was in a vulnerable position. Unemployment and emigration was high, and the memory of privations endured during “The Emergency” were fresh in people’s memories. This project of revitalising Irish music culture, therefore, was undertaken in a spirit of optimism and hope. The first Fleadh was a two-day competition celebrated as part of a long-established Gaelic League festival, Feis Lár na hÉireann. But from this humble start, it has gone on to become one of the most significant music festivals in the world. It’s a reminder that big changes can come from defiant optimism in unlikely conditions.

Traditionally, the Fleadh takes place twice in one  location before moving on. The Fleadh will return to Belfast on the 1 to 8 August 2027. Hopefully it can continue to bring communities together in a participatory, joyful and forward-looking expression of Irish culture.

Sources

• Analysing and Researching Ireland North and South. Royal Irish Academy.

• Black, Lynsey. Bordering a Contested State: Northern Ireland as the U.K.'s 'Other' Border. 15 June 2026. Oxford Intersections: Borders. Ed. Diener and Hagen.

• Cockburn, Patrick. "Leap in the Dark". The London Review of Books. 9 July 2026. 

• Kee, Robert. The Green Flag: A History of Irish Nationalism. 1972. Penguin Books. 2000 edition.

• O'Toole, Fintan and McBride, Sam. For and Against a United Ireland. Royal Irish Academy. 2025. https://doi.org/10.1093/9780198945222.003.0223