The extraordinary image of Michael Stone caught in the revolving door at Stormont's entrance will persist as an iconic memory of the Troubles. But, as the death throes of the Troubles, in sharp contrast to his entrance at Milltown cemetery two decades earlier.
In that role, he acted possibly with the support of the state, to devastating and death-inducing effect in what was one of the worst weeks of the Troubles, culminating from Gibraltar, through Milltown to the murder of the corporals in the subsequent funeral – all within seven days.
This time he cut a lonely, sad, tragic, arthritic, stick-bearing figure, railing at the democracy in action of Stormont, peopled by his former enemies and comrades, and with further irony, being observed by a state-funded Irish language medium secondary school.
The difference? Twenty years and a generational shift by our post-conflict society towards electoral and participative democracy. But a question also arises about the role of our media in giving heart and backbone to a victim (and obvious perpetrator, too) of the conflict.
Ever since the Mo Mowlam prison visit of early 1998, Stone became a high profile player, a celebrity almost; I recall his devastating appearance at a UDP Ulster Hall rally in the week running up to the May 98 referendum, where, even without uttering a word, he sent shivers down the spines of unionist and nationalist alike as he paraded his (then) support for a YES vote. Our polls plummeted the next day as decent voters recoiled from the assumption that his support equalled or neutralised Sinn Féin's parading of the 'Balcombe Street Gang' at its Ard Fheis the previous weekend, as 'our Mandelas'. Were the lunatics about to take over the asylum, some wondered?
Since then, Stone has become a willing poodle for the media, as 'former' hard man, former loyalist, former Adair fan, now turned artist, thinker, commentator, healer even, as the BBC conjoined him with Archbishop Tutu in that cringe-making artificial back-lit courtroom setting with family grief being explored and exploited. Even last month, Stone was being interviewed for his views in the very same Stormont estate on the peace process, whither he later stumbled to conduct his failed attack and get bopped over the head with his own gun by a security guard (what was that about, by the way?). Who's pocket was he really in?
Enough of the farce and melodrama – what of the politics? The DUP is clearly on course to enter a power-sharing government; their internal dissent has been less than even they expected, and easily absorbed. Their voters need some further encouragement, but leadership-led as they are, will follow their big man hero over the top, as required.
SF, on the other hand, and counter-intuitively, since they are past masters at appearing to follow their voters, rather than to risk being seen leading them, are experiencing more dissent than expected. None with real clout, or political leadership yet, but worrying enough, since the physical force tradition lives on (remember Omagh in August 98), with potentially more devastating consequences than the damp squib outrage and usually internecine warfare of loyalism.
Adams therefore requires to massage the constituency, to mobilise the movement, to facilitate dialogue, and bring his people to an awareness of the chosen political route's attractions. Whereas both parties can take their horses to water, only Paisley can make them drink; Adams must cajole and nudge his horses to understand – and then slake their thirst. That might take not one, but two Ard Fhéiseanna.
Meanwhile, are they all preparing for government in late March? Some more than others remains the answer. Apart from the risks of serious gridlock in the new system (as described here in Business Eye, November 2006) there remains a risk of policy-free governance, or as one wit had it, 'policy-based evidence making' to suit the particular personal and almost hobbyhorse prejudices of the ministers in question.
Indeed, there is a scenario under consideration in the NIO under which the Assembly Commission will be ready to service the 'new' (haven't we had 'new' Assemblies in 1998, 1999, 2003, November 2006 and now another in March 2007?) political structures; so will the civil service be ready with 'first day briefs' (in quadruple, of course, to suit whichever of the big four parties seizes that department under the quaint d'Hondt formula); as will civil society be ready with their employer, trade union and voluntary sector demands for new laws, initiatives and budget requests; business is ready, having practiced with the economic packages apparently on offer for reform; the media are gearing up again to report on plenaries and 27 committee meetings each week; even the political lobbying industry (where I ply my trade here at Stratagem) is recruiting staff, developing software and helping clients prepare their strategies for engagement in the political fray .
But the big gap may be within the political parties – what will they want to do in government? What are their plans, visions and quick wins? Their first 100 day timetables? Their exciting and dramatic projects? Such below the radar planning is clearly (if that is not oxymoronic?) taking place in the Brown camp in London, the McConnell and Salmond circles at Holyrood, the Ahern cabal in Dublin and so on, across democracies.
When I asked one staffer recently of his party's programme for government plans he responded acerbically "we'll burn those bridges when we come to them".
It reminds me of a phrase we frequently used to explain away seemingly incomprehensible decisions under Phase l of devolution (1999-2002): "Good for the Peace Process, Bad for Good Governance". Are we doomed to more conservative, cautious, civil service cloned consolidation? By four.
Let's hope not. We need vision, sharing, drive and direction. There are four months to go to acquire it. Lead on, MacDuff!
