THE Taoiseach told the Dail on Tuesday that he was surprised that Sir Patrick Mayhew had rejected calls for an apology for the deaths of 13 innocent people in Derry on Bloody Sunday. Last weekend, after meeting relatives of the victims, the Northern Ireland Secretary said that an apology would be appropriate only if there had been "criminal wrongdoing", and that there was nothing in the Widgery Report to suggest that this has been the case.
Let us leave aside the substance of Sir Patrick's statement and the argument that an apology for the deaths would necessarily indicate that "criminal wrongdoing" had occurred. What is revealing about this episode is the casual offensiveness of Sir Patrick's style.
Twenty four hours previously he had met the relatives and told them that he would "thoughtfully" review the new evidence that had been presented to him by the Bloody Sunday Justice Campaign. Later John Kelly, brother of one of the victims, said that Sir Patrick's comments and the speed with which he made them had "compounded the hurt we have already suffered".
The question that springs to mind is why did he do it? Any new inquiry into the events of Bloody Sunday is bound to be problematic for the British government. No sovereign state wants to admit that its armed forces have misbehaved, let alone been responsible for the deaths of innocent civilians. I remember once asking a senior British officer how he would feel if one of his men was charged with a relatively minor offence and he replied briskly: "It's all right if he's charged, just so long as there is no conviction."
Even an apology for what happened on Bloody Sunday would raise questions about moral and financial responsibility, though that is not, of course, a reason for ducking the issue. But the more immediate mystery is why Sir Patrick Mayhew responded in a way which not only caused hurt to the relatives but great anger in the nationalist community.
He did not need to say anything beyond a soothing affirmation that yes, he was considering the evidence, that it would inevitably take some time, that the Prime Minister had already agreed - albeit in qualified terms - that the victims were innocent etc. etc. That would have achieved the desired objective of conveying the impression that the British government was at least sensitive to the sense of grievance in the broad nationalist community without committing it to any particular course of action.
IT HAS become the custom on these occasions to point the fire at the unionists, to explain that British ministers are obsessed with not offending them. It's true of a lot of issues, but not in this case. The Belfast Newsletter has already called for a new inquiry into the deaths in Derry a quarter of a century ago. Ken Maginnis, more cautious about what a full investigation might reveal about the unionist government's control of security on Bloody Sunday, has added his weight to the calls for an apology. There is a recognition that Bloody Sunday represents a watershed, and that, in John Bruton's words, the concerns of the victims must be recognised before the process of healing can begin.
There have been a number of similar episodes in recent weeks when a gratuitously insensitive response to situations of individual human suffering has caused waves of mistrust in the wider community. Earlier this week in west Belfast, I found people wanted to talk about three issues - Bloody Sunday, Harryville and the detention of Roisin McAliskey.
I am not suggesting that the weekly confrontation at Harryville is simple, or that it is going to be easy to resolve. But the other problems could and should have been dealt with in a way which would have helped to soothe the present mood rather than create new grievances.
A shrewd American commentator said to me about the Roisin McAliskey case: "Why has the British government let this escalate to the point where it could become a serious political problem for them, at least in the States? If they don't want to release her, surely they could at least ensure that she is seen to be comfortable, to have access to her family, to proper medical care, to recreation and study?"
This is exactly the argument which was made to Michael Howard after Ms McAliskey was first confined as a high security prisoner in Britain. If a there was a problem because the German authorities opposed bail, would it not be possible, and obviously more humane, to hold her in a Northern Ireland prison where she would be close to her family and friends?
This is a case, like the treatment of the Bloody Sunday relatives, where the official response is judged by many reasonable, moderate people to be unduly harsh. Inevitably, this has a knock on effect in the broader nationalist community, fuelling the sense of alienation which has always been grist to the mill of the most politically extreme.
It now seems to be quite generally accepted that there will be no political movement in Northern Ireland until after the general election in Britain, and probably not for quite a long time after that as a new Labour government takes time to find its feet. The period in between is likely to be very difficult, given the risks associated with the marching season and the apparent lack of any coherent strategy for dealing with them.
That means that the most important priority for both the British and Irish governments must be to manage the situation in a way which offers some real hope to both communities and reduces the very great tension and fears which now exist at grass roots level.
Of course, the rebuilding of confidence is a two way process. The responsibility for creating an environment in which political progress can be made rests primarily with the IRA, and it is one which it must accept sooner rather than later. Already the return to violence, the killing of a young soldier last week and the continuing finds of weapons have eroded the trust of many people.
Increasingly one hears the fear expressed that the IRA will try to mount a "spectacular" in either Britain or Northern Ireland before the election. This would not only be immoral, it would also have disastrous political consequences.
THERE seems to be an impression that a general election in Britain will enable all the parties to the peace process, including Sinn Fein, to start with a clean slate.
Nothing could be further from the truth. If Tony Blair is prime minister, he is likely to be quite uncertain about Northern Ireland. Any threat of an escalation in the violence will drive him to demonstrate that he can be as tough on terrorism as the Conservatives.
There is a hope that a new British government will open doors that have remained closed, but only the IRA can make this possible. That will require a new ceasefire and a commitment to democratic methods. But the most urgent priority now is for Gerry Adams to convince the IRA that any further acts of violence in the coming weeks will damage those hopes, perhaps beyond repair.