I understand that the Government is funding a scheme to “re-image” the paramilitary murals that are some of the most visible reminders of Ulster’s recent history. They want to overpaint them with images in which communities depict themselves in a more positive light to help to develop a shared future. One has already been replaced by an homage to George Best.

Criticism of this proposal has come from politicians who say people should not be paid to remove what was vandalism in the first place. More unexpected opposition has been voiced by representatives of the tourist industry. Tours of the murals have been an established part of the local economy for several years. The Rough Guide to Ireland spends five pages listing the best mural sites in Belfast.

I can understand the tour guides’ fears for I cannot imagine visitors paying to gawp at gable ends of council houses painted with the regulation images of peace and understanding, instead of the vicarious thrill of seeing living pieces of a violent history.

I have never been to Northern Ireland but I have seen media images of the murals, which seemed to crop up in every news report about the Troubles. The murals are powerfully dark examples of folk art, for me a welcome antidote to the well-meaning but inane iconography of politically correct togetherness that was the staple of community wall paintings of the 1970s and 1980s.

Murals have been part of the Unionist tradition for nearly a century. The first one recorded was of King Billy in Belfast in 1908, painted as part of the July 12 celebration of the Battle of the Boyne. In 1969 a mural declaring “You are now entering Free Derry” appeared at a Republican gathering spot that is now known as Free Derry Corner. Since then, both sides have used the mural to celebrate, intimidate, commemorate and propagate their side of the story.

After the Government banned the broadcasting of supporters’ voices the murals became mute spokesmen for the paramilitaries. Gerry Adams would be filmed in front of a mural showing hunger-strikers, using it like the logo boards that are the ubiquitous backdrop to any celebrity photo-op these days.

The power of the murals is perhaps that they reflect the trenchant views of the immediate locals. Many were paid for by door-to-door fundraising in the neighbourhoods. As well providing tangible evidence of the shadowy presence of the paramilitaries, the paintings also helped to bind communities together, to give them a rallying point, a place to mourn and to show their pride.

The big problem of any public art is a fear of offending anyone. One of the invigorating aspects of the Ulster murals was that, as well as asserting the territory, traditions, history and political messages of the conflict, they are not afraid of winding up the opposition. The more close-knit a group, the more intolerant of “the other” it tends to be. It may not be desirable, but nothing binds a community together like hatred of a common enemy. This acknowledgement of their dark side, I think, is very useful for the two communities — to suppress the lingering bitterness under a coating of paint could be counter-productive. Better another mural than more bullets.

Art is amoral. Artists are not obliged to have politically correct views or to support good causes. The murals appeal to me because they convey their sectarian passions fairly undiluted by aesthetic concerns. There are sophisticated painters working for both sides but I have to admit that the cruder angrier images, like prison tattoos, I find more resonant.

The Troubles are all too fresh and I can understand the desire to wipe away something that reminds people of recent traumas, but culture is littered with the legacy of violent divides. On November 5 do we not celebrate the foiling and execution of a Catholic terrorist?

Among my favourite possessions are Afghan war rugs that depict images of the Russian invasion in the 1980s and the present “war on terror”. These things stem from painful wounds from which the poison has drained to varying degrees.

There is a theory that feelings follow behaviour. If this is so, then let both sides paint over any celebrations of violence and declare an outbreak of mutual love and understanding. Hmmm. The artist in me thinks it would be good to let the communities continue to wear their feelings on their sleeve. Maybe one day the murals will be cherished pieces of history, old pictures of faded feelings.