POLITICIANS MUST NOT PLAY GAMES WITH TRUST
In the understandable rush to tighten security, peace could be put at risk, warns CIARAN McKEOWN
Politicians must not play games with trust
WHILE the people in and around Omagh have reacted with inspiring dignity to the savagery detonated in their midst, there have been disturbing signs that what the Americans call the political class and the media class may prove less enlightened.
Over the last week, the political class, by and large, has been better behaved than the media class: it has to be, because unlike the media, politicians have to face the people at the ballot box.
The media lack that restraining influence, and may even have a vested interest in pandering to our more venal appetites.
You, as readers, listeners, viewers, have a part in that: understandably, you could not get enough coverage of Omagh and its aftermath, both for good reasons and less worthy ones; and our profession depends on satisfying your needs.
Where those needs are for reliable information, for appropriate expression of emotions, and for enlightened analysis, then our task is both demanding and as noble as, say, any doctor's.
But where we simply pander to a desire to loudmouth, to fake headline anger, and demand heads on a plate, then we are no better than grave-dancing politicians. We become the voice of the mob.
And there was a display of lynch-mob journalism in some quarters last week.
Among more enlightened editors, there has been the serious question of 'how to take the Omagh story on', now that the funerals are over. There is the obvious task of chronicling the 'return to normality': but that has a limited life-span, and very quickly, we will be focusing much more on the political and security aftermath.
Both the British and Irish parliaments will be recalled within days, and therefore there is virtually no time for serious debate in the kind of calm atmosphere likely to produce a wise outcome.
So how the media class performs in the days ahead is absolutely vital to all our futures: for the media class is, at times like these, almost incestuously linked to the political class.
There is one objective that is shared by all - the political class, the media class, and the public at large - and that is to create the situation in which tragedies like Omagh are least likely to happen.
It is bogus for anyone to pledge that such things can never happen again and any suggestion of measures that promise the illusion of total security should be regarded with scepticism, if not contempt. Our graveyards hold sufficient proof of the hollowness of such pledges: they are an insult to the dead, the maimed, and the grieving.
For that reason, it was heartening to hear RUC Chief Constable Ronnie Flanagan, under legitimate media questioning within hours of the Omagh bomb, responding to a question on internment by dismissing any 'quick-fix' approach.
He reminded journalists that, in a democracy, convictions had to be obtained by due process, and that what his force needed most was the support of the community in terms of information.
It cannot be repeated often enough, no matter how impatient people become for 'results', that the police service must enjoy the widest possible trust if we are to create a political culture in which tragedies like Omagh may become a bad memory and a continuing warning.
At the same time as Mr Flanagan was speaking, and before the casualties had been counted, the maimed brought safely to hospital and the dead laid out in a temporary morgue, MP Jeffrey Donaldson was on air to blame the Government for the bombing because of the terms of the Good Friday Agreement.
Mr Donaldson could not have known the full extent of the tragedy when he spoke, and I heard no further pushing of the point by him until this week. So far as I could detect, he maintained a tasteful silence.
But on Monday, returning to his theme, he disclosed that he had it from security sources that the detonator and Semtex used in Omagh were from Provisional IRA dumps.
It is, of course, absolutely right and fitting, as we approach a serious legislative moment, that Mr Donaldson take every legitimate opportunity to make his case.
But there are two disturbing elements here: one is the possible source of the Omagh bomb material; the other is the fact that Mr Donaldson is being leaked to from within the police operation.
In the most difficult of circumstances, the RUC has come on in leaps and bounds in terms of developing that trust; and I don't think any chief constable in recent times has enjoyed that trust more thoroughly than Ronnie Flanagan himself.
If Ronnie Flanagan wants it to be known at this stage that his force has tracked the source of the bomb material, there is a well-established method of briefing the media; and even where he wants editors to know things which must remain confidential but which may affect editorial judgment and presentation, then there is also a sufficient number of relationships of trust between him and editors for that to happen.
Those relationships of trust are vital aspects of the wider trust that the RUC must enjoy with the whole community.
So Mr Donaldson's claim raises a string of questions: who is undermining Mr Flanagan's position, and that trust, by selective briefing of politicians? And why?
And if the information is coming from someone who is grinding an axe instead of serving the Chief Constable, is it reliable?
Trust disintegrates all the way down the line with political utterances of this nature.
There is also the question of whether Mr Donaldson appreciates the need for the police to be trusted - and to be seen to be trusted - beyond political manipulation.
If new and draconian measures are to be introduced, then it is even more vital than ever that there can be a reasonable level of trust that the measures are purely to serve the preventative purpose argued for them.
Otherwise, as every form of extra-judicial legislation has previously proven, they could become counter-productive recruiting sergeants of the impressionable to terrorism.
The forms of due process have already been severely undermined over the last 30 years, in both the British and Irish jurisdictions, by legislation which gives judicial respectability to what is largely executive action.
It would have been much better, in my view, for all concerned to take their cue from the Chief Constable's original statement: for just as there is an overwhelming will in both jurisdictions for the Good Friday Agreement to work, so there would have been a decisive flow of information to the police.
And the enormous pressure on those organisations committed to decommissioning to get on with it forthwith, would have continued to gather strength.
Now, given any careless raising of the political temperature, there could well be a loss of trust, a lessening of the pressure for rapid decommissioning, a hardening of a wait-and-see attitude - and a consequent unravelling of the Good Friday Agreement to a situation worse than we have ever known.
A failure to implement the Good Friday Agreement - in all its aspects, including decommissioning - is unthinkable, not only because it has been so overwhelmingly endorsed, but because the consequences could reduce the enormity of the Omagh tragedy to the status of another horrible statistic in a new and more terrible litany.
There is not yet any serious momentum of slippage back down the hill that has been so painfully climbed over the last five years, and the last 12 months in particular. But the danger is there, and there are, of course, people far removed from terrorist organisations who want to see the Agreement wrecked.
Beyond the policing issue, there is already ample evidence of certain MPs being selectively leaked to from within the civil service, a form of virtual treason which also causes distrust in the whole system of governance.
In the embryonic democracy offered to us through the Good Friday Agreement, trust is still a very fragile plant. It requires extremely thoughtful, patient and sensitive nurturing by genuine patriots.
War comes about through the loss of trust and the loss of patience: we have surely learned - or have we forgotten so soon? - that ending a war demands the patience of a saint, and the courage to build trust.
The media are not passive, neutral observers in this: a free Press in a free society has to work all the time at relationships of trust, and has constantly to earn the right to be trusted when it says something.
If last week, for instance, as a result of reliable investigative journalism, the names, numbers and resources of the Real IRA had been uncovered, then the media concerned could have enjoyed incredible scoops even within the laws of libel.
But what happened was that documents were selectively dumped upon journalists without any such investigative effort.
Some outlets gleefully exploited the material, without a second thought for principle or consequent damage to trust.
Others stuck to the ethics of their profession - at risk to circulations - because the public, especially as people understandably weary of the emotions of tragedy, are vulnerable to a venal curiosity about alleged perpetrators.
When the lynch mob is in full cry, ethical journalism, like ethical policing and ethical jurisprudence, are in for a hard time. And politicians who spend disproportionate time examining polls and monitoring focus groups are less likely to have the wisdom to resist the demand for heads - any heads - on a plate.
This is surely a time to root ourselves decisively in the perspectives of the Good Friday Agreement rather than opting for the battlefield chosen by the Omagh bombers.
It is a time for politicians to behave as statesmen rather than functionaries of poll information; and a time for journalists to behave as journalists rather than as message-boys of power interests of one sort or another.
Politicians must not play games with trust
WHILE the people in and around Omagh have reacted with inspiring dignity to the savagery detonated in their midst, there have been disturbing signs that what the Americans call the political class and the media class may prove less enlightened.
Over the last week, the political class, by and large, has been better behaved than the media class: it has to be, because unlike the media, politicians have to face the people at the ballot box.
The media lack that restraining influence, and may even have a vested interest in pandering to our more venal appetites.
You, as readers, listeners, viewers, have a part in that: understandably, you could not get enough coverage of Omagh and its aftermath, both for good reasons and less worthy ones; and our profession depends on satisfying your needs.
Where those needs are for reliable information, for appropriate expression of emotions, and for enlightened analysis, then our task is both demanding and as noble as, say, any doctor's.
But where we simply pander to a desire to loudmouth, to fake headline anger, and demand heads on a plate, then we are no better than grave-dancing politicians. We become the voice of the mob.
And there was a display of lynch-mob journalism in some quarters last week.
Among more enlightened editors, there has been the serious question of 'how to take the Omagh story on', now that the funerals are over. There is the obvious task of chronicling the 'return to normality': but that has a limited life-span, and very quickly, we will be focusing much more on the political and security aftermath.
Both the British and Irish parliaments will be recalled within days, and therefore there is virtually no time for serious debate in the kind of calm atmosphere likely to produce a wise outcome.
So how the media class performs in the days ahead is absolutely vital to all our futures: for the media class is, at times like these, almost incestuously linked to the political class.
There is one objective that is shared by all - the political class, the media class, and the public at large - and that is to create the situation in which tragedies like Omagh are least likely to happen.
It is bogus for anyone to pledge that such things can never happen again and any suggestion of measures that promise the illusion of total security should be regarded with scepticism, if not contempt. Our graveyards hold sufficient proof of the hollowness of such pledges: they are an insult to the dead, the maimed, and the grieving.
For that reason, it was heartening to hear RUC Chief Constable Ronnie Flanagan, under legitimate media questioning within hours of the Omagh bomb, responding to a question on internment by dismissing any 'quick-fix' approach.
He reminded journalists that, in a democracy, convictions had to be obtained by due process, and that what his force needed most was the support of the community in terms of information.
It cannot be repeated often enough, no matter how impatient people become for 'results', that the police service must enjoy the widest possible trust if we are to create a political culture in which tragedies like Omagh may become a bad memory and a continuing warning.
At the same time as Mr Flanagan was speaking, and before the casualties had been counted, the maimed brought safely to hospital and the dead laid out in a temporary morgue, MP Jeffrey Donaldson was on air to blame the Government for the bombing because of the terms of the Good Friday Agreement.
Mr Donaldson could not have known the full extent of the tragedy when he spoke, and I heard no further pushing of the point by him until this week. So far as I could detect, he maintained a tasteful silence.
But on Monday, returning to his theme, he disclosed that he had it from security sources that the detonator and Semtex used in Omagh were from Provisional IRA dumps.
It is, of course, absolutely right and fitting, as we approach a serious legislative moment, that Mr Donaldson take every legitimate opportunity to make his case.
But there are two disturbing elements here: one is the possible source of the Omagh bomb material; the other is the fact that Mr Donaldson is being leaked to from within the police operation.
In the most difficult of circumstances, the RUC has come on in leaps and bounds in terms of developing that trust; and I don't think any chief constable in recent times has enjoyed that trust more thoroughly than Ronnie Flanagan himself.
If Ronnie Flanagan wants it to be known at this stage that his force has tracked the source of the bomb material, there is a well-established method of briefing the media; and even where he wants editors to know things which must remain confidential but which may affect editorial judgment and presentation, then there is also a sufficient number of relationships of trust between him and editors for that to happen.
Those relationships of trust are vital aspects of the wider trust that the RUC must enjoy with the whole community.
So Mr Donaldson's claim raises a string of questions: who is undermining Mr Flanagan's position, and that trust, by selective briefing of politicians? And why?
And if the information is coming from someone who is grinding an axe instead of serving the Chief Constable, is it reliable?
Trust disintegrates all the way down the line with political utterances of this nature.
There is also the question of whether Mr Donaldson appreciates the need for the police to be trusted - and to be seen to be trusted - beyond political manipulation.
If new and draconian measures are to be introduced, then it is even more vital than ever that there can be a reasonable level of trust that the measures are purely to serve the preventative purpose argued for them.
Otherwise, as every form of extra-judicial legislation has previously proven, they could become counter-productive recruiting sergeants of the impressionable to terrorism.
The forms of due process have already been severely undermined over the last 30 years, in both the British and Irish jurisdictions, by legislation which gives judicial respectability to what is largely executive action.
It would have been much better, in my view, for all concerned to take their cue from the Chief Constable's original statement: for just as there is an overwhelming will in both jurisdictions for the Good Friday Agreement to work, so there would have been a decisive flow of information to the police.
And the enormous pressure on those organisations committed to decommissioning to get on with it forthwith, would have continued to gather strength.
Now, given any careless raising of the political temperature, there could well be a loss of trust, a lessening of the pressure for rapid decommissioning, a hardening of a wait-and-see attitude - and a consequent unravelling of the Good Friday Agreement to a situation worse than we have ever known.
A failure to implement the Good Friday Agreement - in all its aspects, including decommissioning - is unthinkable, not only because it has been so overwhelmingly endorsed, but because the consequences could reduce the enormity of the Omagh tragedy to the status of another horrible statistic in a new and more terrible litany.
There is not yet any serious momentum of slippage back down the hill that has been so painfully climbed over the last five years, and the last 12 months in particular. But the danger is there, and there are, of course, people far removed from terrorist organisations who want to see the Agreement wrecked.
Beyond the policing issue, there is already ample evidence of certain MPs being selectively leaked to from within the civil service, a form of virtual treason which also causes distrust in the whole system of governance.
In the embryonic democracy offered to us through the Good Friday Agreement, trust is still a very fragile plant. It requires extremely thoughtful, patient and sensitive nurturing by genuine patriots.
War comes about through the loss of trust and the loss of patience: we have surely learned - or have we forgotten so soon? - that ending a war demands the patience of a saint, and the courage to build trust.
The media are not passive, neutral observers in this: a free Press in a free society has to work all the time at relationships of trust, and has constantly to earn the right to be trusted when it says something.
If last week, for instance, as a result of reliable investigative journalism, the names, numbers and resources of the Real IRA had been uncovered, then the media concerned could have enjoyed incredible scoops even within the laws of libel.
But what happened was that documents were selectively dumped upon journalists without any such investigative effort.
Some outlets gleefully exploited the material, without a second thought for principle or consequent damage to trust.
Others stuck to the ethics of their profession - at risk to circulations - because the public, especially as people understandably weary of the emotions of tragedy, are vulnerable to a venal curiosity about alleged perpetrators.
When the lynch mob is in full cry, ethical journalism, like ethical policing and ethical jurisprudence, are in for a hard time. And politicians who spend disproportionate time examining polls and monitoring focus groups are less likely to have the wisdom to resist the demand for heads - any heads - on a plate.
This is surely a time to root ourselves decisively in the perspectives of the Good Friday Agreement rather than opting for the battlefield chosen by the Omagh bombers.
It is a time for politicians to behave as statesmen rather than functionaries of poll information; and a time for journalists to behave as journalists rather than as message-boys of power interests of one sort or another.
Further Information
Publisher: NEWS LETTER
Ref: NL/121
Published Date: 27-Aug-98
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