Manorhamilton, Ireland

Nula McNulty is a lifelong resident of North Leitrim, Ireland, who returned home in 2003 after years working on Ireland’s east coast and two years in China as a food technologist. Raised on a mixed farm near the Northern Ireland border, she grew up during the Troubles with a father from the North and a mother from the South. Her upbringing instilled in her a strong sense of inclusivity, social conscience, and respect for others regardless of religion, politics, or background.

Living near the border deeply shaped her understanding of conflict. As a child, crossing into Northern Ireland meant passing through multiple military and police checkpoints—an experience she accepted at the time but later recognized as extraordinary. She recalls both the deep divisions and the gradual healing that followed, particularly through integrated schools, cross-border initiatives, and community-based projects.

Nula believes peace requires communication, acknowledgment of harm, and sustained relationship-building. She has seen healing happen when people work side by side—through women’s groups, cross-border arts projects, and community campaigns. For her, the process of collaboration matters more than the finished product; shared work creates understanding and dissolves “othering.”

Nula sees prejudice as an ongoing challenge but insists the work of peace is never finished. True progress, she says, comes from listening, acknowledging pain on all sides, apologizing where necessary, and respecting both people and the natural world. Ultimately, she believes respect—for oneself, for neighbors, and for the environment—is the foundation of peace. Love, she says, is easier and more sustaining than hate.

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“There’s a lot more goodness than badness. It just doesn’t make the headlines.”

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On growing up at the border:

“As a child, crossing into Northern Ireland meant five checkpoints—customs, police, army—every single time. I never really thought about it. I accepted it. That was just the way it was. But later, when I was about twelve or thirteen, I began to understand what was underneath it—the fear, the tension. My cousin lost her hair from stress because of threats connected to their business. The Enniskillen bombing was right outside my uncle’s shop. And suddenly it wasn’t just checkpoints. It was real.”

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 On why relationships matter:

“It’s very hard to blame somebody that you like and understand. The wind goes out of your argument. When you know somebody’s name and you know their story, it becomes much harder to hate them. That’s what I learned from cross-border projects and women’s groups and the arts work around the lake. It’s not so much about the finished piece—it’s about the process of being together.”

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On peace and ongoing work:

“The work is never really done. There is always prejudice. If you’ve been discriminated against, if members of your family disappeared, if you were injured in a bomb, it’s very hard to be all-embracing. But you have to acknowledge the hurt and the damage done on both sides. There is healing in talking to the other side. There is healing in listening.”

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On activism and hope:

“You can become disillusioned with it all, but that’s no reason to give up. There’s a lot more goodness than badness in the world—it just doesn’t make the headlines. I see it in community groups, in campaigns, in people showing up. You can’t stop Netanyahu or Putin, but you can show support. You can stand with people. The power of one still matters.”

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To read the introduction to this series, follow this link.
The Troubles: Finding a Path Toward Healing in Northern Ireland

To listen to our podcast, follow this link or find us on the platform of your choice.
A Peace of My Mind on Buzzsprout

Credits:
Interview and photos: John Noltner
Field production: summer interns Kate West, Sawyer Garrison, and Kaitlin Imai
Audio engineering: Razik Saifullah