Talk about picture power. The photograph taken at Castlerea Prison recently, showing four Sinn Féin TDs with eight republican prisoners, including the men convicted of the manslaughter of Garda Jerry McCabe, has triggered an avalanche of angry words. Garda representatives, politicians and media commentators have expressed outrage at what they've seen and the McCabe family are said to have found the picture "shattering" and "incredibly upsetting".
The McCabe killing and the continued imprisonment of those convicted of the killing provoke strong feelings all round.
The family of the dead garda are distressed by his death and angry with his killers. Republicans maintain that those convicted of the killing should have been released with other prisoners under the terms of the Good Friday Agreement.
The McCabes and their supporters are determined that the men will serve their full sentence; republicans continue to campaign for their release. So what is and isn't a contentious issue in this latest outburst? It's fair to assume that no-one objects to the jailed men receiving visitors. This is a normal right for all prisoners, regardless of their crime. It's also fair to assume that no-one objects to TDs visiting prisoners. It would be odd to allow ordinary members of the public access while locking the gates against elected representatives.
Which leaves the photograph. Indignation appears to centre not on the visit but on the fact that a record – a photograph – was made of that visit and made available to the public. The taking of the photograph was contrary to prison rules, critics said, and its appearance in An Phoblacht and later the Sunday Independent hurtful to the McCabe family.
This issue of what events the public should or should not see has arisen repeatedly in the history of the recent Troubles.
The handshake between Mary Robinson and Gerry Adams, during her visit to west Belfast in the early 1990s, drew great media attention. We heard where it occurred, we heard when it occurred – but we didn't get to see it. No cameras were allowed because, some said, it would cause hurt and outrage among a section of the population.
Spin forward a few years to the lead-up to the Good Friday Agreement. Mo Mowlam visits Long Kesh to meet loyalist paramilitary leaders. With her she takes not just photographers but TV cameras as well. The public are shown Michael Stone, Johnny Adair et al smiling and talking against a background of prison murals glorifying the slaughter of Catholics. The reaction of relatives of those killed by the likes of Stone receives little media attention. Attention instead focuses on the determination of the British secretary of state to win paramilitary assent to the coming political arrangements. Her visit, in short, is "a good thing".
What prompted the Castlerea prison visit and the subsequent photograph?
It would be reasonable to believe that among the motives was an effort to win paramilitary assent to the developing political arrangements. Just as with Mo Mowlam in Long Kesh, the politicians who went into Castlerea Prison were intent on persuading those who had in the past resorted to violence that politics is now the only option. And just as the TV cameras beamed Mowlam's visit to a wider unionist constituency, the photograph in An Phoblacht was to remind the wider republican community of the gains that politics have given Sinn Féin.
Given this motivation, it's odd to hear so many voices raised to declare the Castlerea prison visit and photograph "a bad thing". There can be little doubt that seeing the picture of the men who killed her husband caused pain to Mrs McCabe.
But then as she herself said on Radio Ulster two days ago, if it had remained within the pages of An Phoblacht she would never have seen it. It was only when the Sunday Independent published the photograph that Mrs McCabe and thousands more were affected by it. But in the end this isn't really about a photograph.
The controversy doesn't centre round whether the photograph breached prison rules or whether the McCabe family was hurt by its publication. The photograph is merely a weapon in a wider war being fought on two fronts.
The first, more local front is whether public opinion will allow the release of the men convicted of Jerry McCabe's manslaughter in accordance with the Good Friday Agreement, or whether they will be forced to serve their full sentence. The second, wider front is whether republicans can continue to make gains at the polling booth, or whether their unnerving progress can be halted or reversed in coming elections to a northern assembly and/or to the European parliament in 2004.
