IRELAND once again stands at the threshold of war, and it took the collective genius of the governments of the United States, Britain, and the Republic of Ireland and a credulous, absurdly optimistic media to help put it there. The peace process, cosseted by so many, questioned by so few, and supposedly designed to end Ireland’s quarter-century of war, was merely a ploy, an interim tactic by the IRA, now finished. More than peace is dead. So too is trust.
Without trust, all talks are worthless: the undertaking of an evening could be as insubstantial by morning as the tobacco smoke of the room it was given in. Two years ago, the IRA gave its word to everybody—to the Irish government, to the British, and finally, to the American: The war is over. President Clinton was photographed shaking hands with the Sinn Fein leader, Gerry Adams; and at that very moment, back in Ireland, the IRA was assembling the bomb which was to destroy the vast Canary Wharf complex in London’s docklands, killing two men working there and doing $150 million worth of damage.




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