The recent attacks on Orange Halls in North Belfast are a disgrace and merit the type of clear condemnation from Sin Féin and the DUP which can be read in our pages this week.

Sadly, we can’t bring you similar unionist outrage at the use of flags and paramilitary emblems to harass and intimidate Catholics in North Belfast because we can’t find any.

For nationalists, the hoisting of paramilitary flags and Union Jacks beside their homes confirms their view that, for many unonists, the Twelfth of July is everything to do with the cartoon on this page by Oisín and very little to do with religious celebration. 

The drinkers, flag-wavers, vandals and ne’er-do-wells will cast a shadow over the Twelfth this year as ever. But while their antics will be disowned by the Loyal Orders, the reality is that both shades of unionism feed off one another. The besuited brethren condemn the “Whore of Babylon” at the field and insist in stomping round areas of North Belfast where they are not welcome while the underclass of unionism vents its spleen attacking Catholic places of worship and erecting offensive arches and flags in shared spaces such as Glengormley.

No wonder nationalists find claims by the Tourist Board that the Twelfth is a fun occasion for all the family a bad joke.

Yet, this orange-tinted glasses version of what until recently was the most violent period in the local calendar has been given a name, Orangefest, and, indeed, comes complete with superhero Diamond Dan. This makeover extends to rolling out the red (or should that be orange) carpet for Catholics, though anyone who feels slightly queasy at the the sale of baby bibs with the legend “Born to s**t on the Garvaghy Road” at the field may prefer to avoid the gathering points.

Still, most nationalists are willing to give the Orangefest shenanigans a fair wind. 40 years on from the Bombay Street pogroms, the general feeling is better Orangefest than Orange violence.

With one eye to the orange of the Tricolour then, nationalists are keen to allow Orangemen their day in the sun.

The other side of the squeezed Orange Order however, is the demand to be allowed to walk where the brethren are clearly not wanted. Some progress has been made in halting the most egregious displays of Orange triumphalism but, stymied on the Garvaghy Road and the Ormeau Road, loyalists have switched the action to sleepy villages where Catholic and Protestant dare to live together. 

Shortsighted unionists who see their colours flying high over the Twelfth may think that their writ runs again. The truth, however, is that despite the incursions into Catholic areas during the marching season, the Orange State is dead and gone.

That’s not to say that there isn’t the odd kick in King Billy’s old horse yet. But ultimately, those who chose to live in the past, can’t expect to enjoy the spoils of the future. Which may just be why the Orange Order membership has fallen to its lowest level in over two centuries.