JOHN Hume made no bones about his sense of betrayal by Sinn Fein in News commentary this week on that party's response to his proposal of an electoral pact.
He'd suggested an SDLP Sinn Fein pact, which would have ensured extra nationalist seats at Westminster, on condition that the Provisional IRA called a ceasefire.
Within hours, as he wrote in an article which was reprinted here yesterday, Sinn Fein's leaders had pronounced any hope of an arrangement dead.
"There were no requests for clarification, no requests for discussion of the issues and no pleas for time to consult their own members...
"Compared with the agonising delays (in responding to developments in the peace process), the speed of their response on this issue was breath taking."
Mr Hume was struck by the contrast with the "consideration and sensitivity" shown by the SDLP as he and his colleagues tried to help the republicans move "from a strategy of undemocratic violence to a strategy of democratic politics".
"Having availed of our good faith as honest brokers," he wrote, in a commentary which was widely quoted in the international media, "they now intend to cast us aside".
In this most direct criticisms of Sinn Fein for many years, the SDLP leader explained why there could be no question of an electoral pat between the parties unless his sole condition had been met:
"To make an electoral pact with Sinn Fein without an IRA ceasefire would be the equivalent of asking our voters to support the killing of innocent human beings by the IRA.
"The electorate should be aware that in voting for Sinn Fein that is what they are voting for Sinn Fein call it the armed struggle."
THE tragic consequence of the republicans war, as Mr Hume called it, was that it tainted and weakened the struggle for change in the North, disgusted "our fellow countrymen" in the South and revolted public opinion elsewhere in the world.
"By changing the focus of the argument, through violence, Sinn Fein allowed the British and the unionists off the hook."
No doubt, Mr Hume has been hurt by the blunt refusal of an electoral pact. He has certainly been criticised, not only by outsiders but also by colleagues in the SDLP, for the time devoted to arguing the case for non violence with Sinn Fein.
Indeed it could be argued that the attention paid to Sinn Fein, especially in the media of this State, has led to the SDLP's being taken for granted for the last four years.
It's as if the voices of Gerry Adams, Martin McGuinness and Mitchel McLaughlin were the authentic voices of Northern nationalism; the only Northern voices that needed to be heard.
But Mr Hume's feelings run deeper than pique or anger at the likely loss of nationalist seats or Sinn Fein gains at the SDLP's expense.
He has long recognised the nature of the more serious challenge posed, perhaps not by Sinn Fein alone, but by the republican movement as a whole, and especially by the Provisional IRA.
He described it vividly in one of the most carefully constructed speeches of his career, at the SDLP's annual conference in 1988. It was a memorable portrait of those - mirror images of traditional unionism - who believe that they alone hold the answer to the problems of a deeply divided society.
"Self determination of the Irish people is their objective, they say. The Irish people are defined by them - if we judge by their actions and their contempt for the views and opinions of other Irish people - as themselves alone.
"They are more Irish than the rest of us, they believe. They are the pure master race. They are the keepers of the pure holy grail of the nation.
"That deeprooted attitude, married to their method, has all the hallmarks of undiluted fascism. They have also the other hallmark of the fascist the scapegoat. The Brits are to blame for everything, even their own atrocities
"They know better than the rest of us. They know so much better that they take unto themselves the right, without consultation with anyone, to dispense death and destruction. By destroying Ireland's people, they destroy Ireland."
At that conference, more than eight years ago, Mr Hume reported: "I had discussions with them recently. The talks were designed to explore - whether they were willing to lay down their arms and join the rest of the people of this island in the . . . search for peace based on real self determination."
They chose rather the option of dying - and killing - for their version of self determination, a united Ireland. When the IRA eventually called its ceasefire, the immediate object was Sinn Fein's involvement in all party talks.
Mr Hume plainly acknowledges that a "major share of the blame for the fact that a viable political process of peacemaking did not follow lay with the British government.
"But that," he wrote in the Irish News, "in no way justifies what followed." A point made with considerable supporting evidence by John Bruton in an article published in the Belfast Telegraph last week.
The Taoiseach argued that the ceasefire didn't "break down" in some passive sense a year ago. A deliberate decision was taken to end it.
And it was untrue to say that nothing had happened during the IRA ceasefire: "A great deal happened in terms of political, economic and security developments," he wrote.
The list is impressive. It ranges from the establishment of the Forum for Peace and Reconciliation to the opening of official and political doors to Sinn Fein, from the release of prisoners to the promotion of investment.
Even after the end of the ceasefire a year ago, arrangements were made for all party talks; ground rules were designed to protect minority rights and George Mitchell's reassuringly independent chairmanship was secured.
All that's required for Sinn Fein to take its place in the discussions on the future of Northern Ireland is for the Provisional IRA to call a halt to the callous stupidity that took young Stephen. Restorick's life in Bessbrook.
SOME of those who had taken part in another war - in defence of an elected government under fascist attack - were received at the Mansion House last week by the Lord Mayor of Dublin, Brendan Lynch.
It was a welcome, delayed by more than half a century, for an old communist, Michael O'Riordan, and comrades who had fought with the International Brigade in Spain: Peter O'Connor, Bob Doyle, Eugene Downing and Maurice Levitas.
Almost 60 years earlier those who had taken Franco's side were welcomed home by the then Lord Mayor, Alfie Byrne, a clerical entourage and a crowd singing Faith of Our Fathers.
Cathal O'Shannon's fine film of the Civil War was called Even the Olives Are Bleeding. Sean Cronin wrote an excellent biography of the best known Irish participant, Frank Ryan: The Search for the Republic (Repsol Publishing).