It's a stunning success story. They've climbed out of the ghetto to become
major movers and shakers. Their influence in our political system is
unrivalled.
They enjoy a massive media profile and wealth. Their wide range of
businesses bring in six-figure annual profits. When one venture fails,
another begins.
They are masters of reinvention.
The Provos embody the entrepreneurial spirit of the age. No wonder Dublin's
business elite is lining up to meet Gerry Adams. Such is the demand that a
breakfast with him, organised by the city's chamber of commerce, has been
moved to larger premises. Up to 200 people will attend.
The Independent Monitoring Commission is threatening to name and shame Provo
bosses. Should the guardians of civil liberties be alarmed? Well, Sinn Féin
leaders are hardly poor, persecuted individuals without the means to defend
themselves.
They're a million miles from the typical miscarriage of justice victim.
They are the rich and powerful. They have every reason to fear the shining
of the light. Behind the sharp suits and friendly faces is a past, and
present, steeped in duplicity.
They have more to hide than those they denounce as 'securocrats'. Gerry
Adams lies just as brazenly about Bobby Tohill's assault and abduction as
any shadowy intelligence figure lies about Pat Finucane's murder.
A bar-room brawl, Adams insists. It must be a case of give the Irish a few
pints and the fists will fly. Now where have we heard that stereotype
before?
Oddly, the Provos haven't yet launched an inquiry into the Tohill assault,
carried out by a band of mystery men. They normally want to know about
everything that happens on their patch.
Those independent citizens who make up community justice-style schemes, also
seem amazingly lax about investigating this brutal crime. The four men
accused entered Maghaberry's republican wing. What does Sinn Féin make of
that self-classification?
While the leaders and supporters of other paramilitary organisations have
been robustly pursued in recent years, the Provo top brass has remained
immune.
Leaders of the Real IRA and its political wing have had their businesses
closed down, media throngs in their front gardens, and fund-raising events
for their prisoners prohibited or picketed.
They've been held to account at every twist and turn, followed into church
and classroom and challenged about their actions. Similar treatment has
applied to the UDA's old 'C' company and its associates. Every detail was
uncovered about their businesses, cars, homes, and holidays.
But have the press descended en masse at the luxurious holiday homes of
Provo leaders, demanding to know how men, apparently unsalaried for decades,
can afford them?
The lifestyle and financial interests of the Army Council are not public
knowledge. Do paramilitary leaders have to sport shell-suits and baseball
caps, or tattoos and gold jewellery, to be deemed worthy of serious
scrutiny?
Losing a £120,000 state subsidy is unlikely to drive the Provos to Prozac.
Isn't it remarkable Her Majesty's government was funding Sinn Féin in the
first place?
There'll be plenty of ways to make the money up. Some of the party's
recently recruited female talent could try their hand at chick-lit. Mary Lou
McDonald was just made for the fly-leaf of a novel. If she suffers writer's
block, I'm sure Brownie will help out.
Perhaps some of the brave volunteers 'policing' republican areas could offer
their services to the private security sector in Iraq. It's big bucks and
they can beat and shoot who they want without Lord Alderdice and his merry
men investigating.
The business empire could easily expand abroad. Who cares about borders
these days? There's no limit to how far an enterprising Provo can go!
