Desperate times brought desperate measures, their implications worrying even to some of their supporters. The law was bent and stretched by the pragmatism and shortcuts considered necessary during the Troubles. Now its aftermath brings further questionable stratagems, writes Fionnuala O Connor.
The past few decades have been rough on the image of lawyers. The riches earned by Northern defence lawyers in the form of legal aid long ago won the mocking nickname "Diplock Gold", after the no-jury courts set up on the recommendation of Lord Diplock. The Dublin tribunal gravy train raked in cash far in excess of Diplock or even the Bloody Sunday legal teams. Solicitors and barristers who work long hours resent the mockery but cannot wish away the spectacle of disproportionate fees, hungrily pursued.
"Extraordinary rendition" is an extraordinarily cynical phrase with a 21st century ring. But all of 34 years ago desperate relatives searched in vain through Northern police stations and British army camps for a dozen men arrested on "Internment Day" and held - without charges - in a secret interrogation centre. It was eight days before they turned up, having been hooded for hours at a stretch, among other then novel techniques of disorientation.
Non-jury courts were introduced after perverse verdicts and brutal intimidation of witnesses. Those who said the principles of the law were sacred lost ground in the horror of car bombs in crowded streets, pedestrians sprayed with automatic fire from passing cars. The most difficult proposition was the spectacle of people who believed political ends justified violent means, and with the utmost cynicism demanded the protection of a law they had sworn to overthrow.
Suspects looked at a fixed point on a wall and said nothing through hours of questioning. Single judges hearing cases, the South's special courts, supergrass trials in which "converted terrorists" shopped their former mates; convictions for IRA membership on the word of a single Garda officer; progressive diminution of the right to silence; all these and more became part of the status quo. The extension of time for interrogation and diminished access to defence lawyers led almost inevitably to shameful and prolonged miscarriages of justice.
Now the jails have emptied of paramilitary prisoners, including several who served no more than a few years of life sentences. Fugitives from justice will be "pardoned" by the President, whether she likes it or not - an even better deal, some marvel, than that secured for "on the runs" in the North.
The Shankill bomber Seán Kelly was returned to jail, apparently on police advice. Then Secretary of State Peter Hain released him, clearly at Sinn Féin's insistence, when they told him the IRA was about to switch to peaceful mode. There was no pretence of revised police advice.
And an affair which brought down the Stormont power-sharing administration has ended in ignominy. A huffy police statement reiterates that yes, there was IRA espionage. After all, on that basis scores of families of police and prison officers were moved at the cost of many millions. But charges have been withdrawn in "the public interest", though the public will not be told how that is so. This brought dismay or disgust on all sides in the North, rare enough unanimity. The Minister for Justice meanwhile tells the public that the security of the State demands, and it is therefore in their interest, that he should denounce a man against whom the gardaí have brought no charges.
It is "pernicious and absurd" to argue, he says, that he should not publicise information unless it can meet the ordinary court requirement of being proven "beyond reasonable doubt". The Minister, himself formerly a practising barrister, adds he has "been advised that it is my legal right and my constitutional duty to make public information" given to him as Minister by the gardaí "when in my judgment the public interest so requires". The Taoiseach has endorsed the Minister's action, though rather oddly he told the Dáil that there was no Garda file on the matter.
Over the years, comparatively few lawyers challenged alterations to the legal system. Many saw no need: others shunned association with paramilitary clients. The "choose the state or the terrorist" argument was always powerful, and as wrong-headed and simplistic then as now. Does intelligence gathered through "extraordinary rendition" balance the hatred it feeds and the damage done to the US? But as the Troubles recede, fear of guilt by association is still strong, a resource to be exploited.
The Northern jury is out, perhaps permanently hung, on whether emptying jails and allowing OTRs home free is an essential if unpalatable part of making peace. It remains to be seen if the public - in particular Fianna Fáil's core vote - thinks the rise of the IRA's political wing justifies today's manoeuvres.
As the Troubles end, the contortions in the legal arena of these islands further damage the standing of the law.
How can that be in the public interest?