In the very early days of the Northern Ireland peace process, when the idea of an IRA ceasefire seemed like an impossible dream, Albert Reynolds made a speech in which he issued a challenge to members of the republican movement. They had to decide, the then Taoiseach said, whether they saw themselves as defenders of an oppressed minority group or as heirs to the Wolfe Tone's vision of uniting "Protestant, Catholic and Dissenter under the common name of Irishman".
The question hasn't gone away. On the contrary, it is particularly pertinent to the present debate on decommissioning. It is true, as Vincent Browne pointed out in this space yesterday, that there is no explicit commitment in the Belfast Agreement to the decommissioning of arms by the IRA or any other paramilitary group.
That is one reason why the growing pressure on the IRA from the SDLP and the Irish Government is likely to be dismissed as evidence of bad faith by many within the republican movement. At a time when Catholic families are being attacked on a nightly basis in Belfast, the whole debate becomes even more emotionally entwined with the sectarian tensions of the marching season and the IRA's view of itself as the sole defender of the beleaguered nationalist community.
But there are other issues here, as Gerry Adams knows very well. It isn't even a question of the future of the Belfast Agreement, whether the structures can survive another suspension and so on. Also at stake, in the longer term, is the relationship between the two communities living on this island, and whether this can be resolved in a manner which finally lays to rest the bitter divisions of the past.
As the two governments intensify their efforts, the mood in Belfast swings from one extreme to another. At one level, there is fear and loathing on the streets and dread of what the coming days may bring. At another, people close to the political action believe a deal is already possible. What is needed now is some neat choreography over the next few weeks: a few concessions on policing for one side, the concreting over of an arms dump for the other and - six weeks later - David Trimble and Seamus Mallon back together in the Executive.
It is almost as if people take the annual crisis in the peace process for granted, believing that something will turn up. It is difficult to feel quite so confident of that happening this year. Gen John de Chastelain's report on the decommissioning impasse offers little hope of movement, at least within the timescale needed to save David Trimble.
To be fair to the republican movement, anyone who has followed the peace process knows the decommissioning of IRA weapons is, at best, very far down the agenda. Gerry Adams hopes that the IRA may be able to go into permanent retirement. Martin McGuinness would like to see the guns left to rust, forever.
Many people probably share the view that this would be a fine achievement. They understand that the handover of weapons, or even allowing them to be inspected on a regular basis, presents an enormous problem to the republican movement.
It isn't simply that this could be interpreted as surrender. It would also signal a final break with the whole tradition of physical-force republicanism and, by extension, the abandonment of its objectives. That would leave the way clear for dissident groups, like the "Real IRA", to claim that they were now the sole heirs to Wolfe Tone's struggle to "break the connection with England".
What this internal debate ignores is the crucial question of how the republican movement hopes to convince the broad unionist community in Northern Ireland that it has acted - and will continue to act - in good faith. At the moment, many members of that community, even those who support the agreement, suspect the IRA wants to hold on to its weapons to effect the destruction of unionism.
If a united Ireland cannot be achieved by political means, then the organisation will return to more traditional methods to achieve its objectives. That may sound paranoid, but even moderate unionists fear this is what lies behind the IRA's refusal to hand over any arms. It is a major factor contributing to their sense of insecurity about the future.
On Monday's Questions and Answers Denis Bradley, the former priest who was an intermediary in the secret talks between the John Major government and the IRA, described the unionist community as "a broken people". He did not, he said, want to see them further "humiliated". One has only to look at the results of the recent British general election, the greening of Northern Ireland west of the River Bann, to see how far the unionist community has been forced to retreat to its natural heartland and how that must have added to its sense of being a beleaguered minority.
That is the context in which the republican movement should be considering the weapons issue. Gerry Adams has said on many occasions that unionists have nothing to fear from a united Ireland in which they would be valued and equal citizens. His task - and that of the entire republican movement - is to convince them that these expressions of good intent are genuine. That is why the weapons issue is critical to implementing Tone's republican vision.
mholland@irish-times.ie