In December 2017, the parties involved in the ‘Brexit’ (British exit from the EU) negotiations were eager to iron out the finer details so as to allow the process to continue to the next phase before relaxing for the festive détente. However, the Northern Irish Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) had other plans in mind. With a deft Ulster sleight of hand, Northern Ireland’s own Iron Lady, Arlene Foster, threw the future of the talks into jeopardy and risked catapulting the UK over the much-feared ‘No deal’ Brexit cliff-edge. There were no festive tidings emanating from Northern Ireland, it seemed.

This pre-Christmas chaos capped what had been a remarkable year for the DUP, one that had seen their unique brand of fire and brimstone Christian politics move beyond its traditional Northern Irish heartland. But who are the DUP and how is it that they have become the ‘kingmakers’ of British politics with the power to sink Brexit negotiations quicker than Arlene Foster could say ‘Titanic’?

If one had paid attention to the media frenzy which met their entrance into the UK government in 2017, it would have been almost logical to assume that the DUP had just arrived on the mainland UK. Media pieces such as ‘7 Things You Didn’t Know About the DUP’ (Horton 2017) and ‘17 Quotes from DUP Politicians That Are Actually Real’ (Parson-Jones 2017) were published by the British papers to mask the fact that amongst the general British public nobody really knew who they were. At this point, an honourable mention must be given to The Spectator, whose unfortunately titled piece, ‘May’s Irish Bailout’, displayed scant regard for the DUP’s most basic raison d’etre—an unwavering commitment to the British identity (McCarthy 2017). For the DUP irony does not exist. English ignorance of their beating Unionist heart only makes their passion stronger (just ask the residents of nationalist areas subjected to their annual ‘marching season’ every July).

The DUP was founded by the Revd Ian Paisley in 1971 on an explicit anti-Catholic, anti–Southern Irish agenda. His view of Catholics—’they breed like rabbits and multiply like vermin’—was based on opposition to granting Catholics full human rights in his Protestant state (BBC News 2014). The DUP offers an uncompromising approach to UK Unionism and is run on a staunchly conservative social platform which has its origins in the Free Presbyterian Church that Paisley also led. Their opposition to progressive causes was made crystal clear when Foster acknowledged that she was prepared to utilise the apocalyptic-sounding ‘Petition of Concern’ (a controversial veto mechanism in the Northern Irish parliament) to halt the introduction of same-sex marriage (ITV News 2016). At the European level, the DUP is perhaps best remembered for an incident that occurred in 1988—when an irate Paisley heckled Pope John Paul II’s address to the European Parliament before being forcefully removed. His view of the Pope—‘I denounce you, Anti-Christ! I refuse you as Christ’s enemy and Antichrist with all your false doctrine’ (YouTube 2012)—highlighted that in Ulster, as in Game of Thrones, burning at the stake is still a viable method of religious control.

What many in Britain were unaware of is that Theresa May’s ill-fated election gamble had given the DUP a sort of deus ex machina lifeline. In early 2017, Northern Ireland’s political system had ground to an immovable halt and Mrs Foster’s tenure as leader of the DUP looked as though it was surviving on borrowed time. A botched renewable energy scheme that she had overseen whilst serving as a minister had left Sinn Féin (the biggest nationalist party in Northern Ireland) enraged, and the taxpayer facing a £500 million bill. Sinn Féin wanted her to step down but, in a manner that would have made Paisley proud, she said, ‘never’. So, in one symbolic final act of defiance against Ulster Unionism, ex–IRA commander turned Deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland Martin McGuinness travelled from his hospital bed to tender his resignation. Election time.

Naïve external observers might have hoped that, 20 years on from the signing of the Good Friday Agreement, Northern Irish politics could have been liberated from its sectarian shackles and that this campaign would be argued on an ideological rather than historical basis. However, such hopes dissipated after Mrs Foster’s frank rebuttal of Sinn Féin’s proposal for the Irish language to receive official status in Northern Ireland: ‘If you feed a crocodile it will keep coming back for more’ (Ni Aodha 2017). The Sinn Féin response to this? An indignant ‘See you later, alligator’ from Sinn Féin President Gerry Adams and the donning of alligator costumes by droves of young Sinn Féin supporters. A moment’s reflection must also be held for Ulster Unionist Party leader Mike Nesbitt, who totally misread the mood of the land when he suggested that, after his own party, he would vote for the nationalist Social Democratic and Labour Party ahead of other Unionist candidates. The thanks he received for his reconciliatory efforts? An onslaught from the DUP about betraying Unionism, an obliteration of the Ulster Unionist Party vote and his own resignation as party leader.

And then there was Brexit. The DUP’s approach to the campaign can be best described as an attempt to out-Brexit the Brexiteers. When opponents argued with their pro-Leave stance by claiming that leaving the EU would be a great act of British self-harm, they were once more failing to understand the DUP psyche. So long as it was a British act of anything, the DUP would want in. Unfortunately for them, however, the process of leaving the EU meant increased dealings with the government of the Republic of Ireland, which was now being led by an uppity young man called Leo Varadkar. As the son of an immigrant father and openly gay, Varadkar ticks many of the boxes which the DUP claims qualifies somebody for eternal damnation. More than this, unlike many of his predecessors, Varadkar seemed comfortable communicating with Northern Irish nationalists, was loose with his words and was unafraid to call out the DUP when he felt that they were being unreasonable (Rainey 2017). Is he the man to bring about a united Ireland? ‘A nutcase’ according to the DUP’s Brexit spokesman, Sammy Wilson (Doyle 2017).

When one looks at the remainder of 2018, it is difficult to envisage the DUP grabbing hold of the zeitgeist with such a degree of aplomb. However, given Arlene Foster’s propensity to act so boldly and decisively, it is worth remembering the old adage that ‘hell hath no fury like an Ulster Woman scorned’.