Danny Morrison was reading from his new book at Waterstone's in Dublin on Monday evening. Then The Walls Came Down is a journal, written mainly in the form of letters, of three years spent in Crumlin Road and the Maze prisons from l990 when Morrison was serving a sentence for IRA membership and false imprisonment of an RUC informer.
It was good to see him being given the Booker treatment, with glasses of wine for the audience. His journal is one of the most important books to emerge from the conflict in Northern Ireland. It provides a readable and convincing account of the long journey away from violence towards the ballot-box, and is particularly timely just now when the enormous hopes vested in the Belfast Agreement seem to be under threat.
At one level, Then the Walls Came Down is a love story. It is also a reminder of what the conflict has cost one section of the community in Northern Ireland - those on both sides who have been convicted of crimes of violence and imprisoned, quite justifiably, and their families. Morrison and his Canadian partner veer from euphoria to despair to try to sustain their relationship. She finds it impossibly difficult and decides to call it off. This makes sense, except that like many a good woman before her, she still loves the man in jail.
The book gives a vividly humane account of life in prison and the camaraderie between men who desperately need to believe their cause is just. It also highlights, perhaps unconsciously, one of the unsung successes of the prison system in the North - the access it gives inmates to education, reading, and time to reflect on what they have done and why. Some of the most impressive politicians in the present talks are products of this system, and after reading Morrison describe his developing love of literature and music, it is easy to understand why. But it is the account of a political journey of discovery that makes Morrison's book so relevant to the present situation. One would like to see it given to all the participants in George Mitchell's review process. This is the more remarkable because so much of his questioning of the sacred myths of republicanism had to be done in virtual isolation from any broader debate.
At the start of the book the writer obviously believes it would be pointless, perhaps even counter-productive, for the IRA to abandon its campaign of violence. He argues that there is no reason to suppose the unionists would be prepared to make any concessions, either on power-sharing or an Irish dimension. In this context any hint of flexibility by the IRA would be interpreted as weakness and would probably demoralise its own activists.
By the end, he has shifted quite definitively from this view. He describes the events which have influenced him, from the fall of communism in Eastern Europe to the experience of the Sandinistas in Nicaragua. The latter is expanded in an article written for An Phoblacht, rejected as it turns out.
In Waterstone's, Danny Morrison talked about two events he believes were crucial to the start of the peace process. The first was Peter Brooke's "100 days" speech in which the Secretary of State indicated, for the first time, that the British government would be duty bound to respond imaginatively to any movement by the IRA. He also voiced - another first for a British minister - some understanding for the republican movement and sympathy for what "the terrorist community" had suffered. This, too, made a powerful emotional impact.
The second event was the publication of a document by a British security source conceding that the British troops could not defeat the IRA. This happened, according to Morrison, when the IRA itself had good reason to feel particularly confident, having acquired enough weapons from Libya "to fight on indefinitely". Ironically, the combination of these two factors - an indication of flexibility by the traditional enemy and the relative strength of the IRA - liberated many republicans to re-evaluate their situation. It allowed them to admit for the first time that although they were in a position to carry on for years if necessary, they could not hope to drive the British out by force.
The war was going nowhere. The time had come to start thinking of different ways of coming to an accommodation with the unionists, through negotiation and compromise that might allow both sides "to agree upon a society in which we could live in relative harmony. Who knows?"
Danny Morrison was always one of the most accessible - and cogent - of Sinn Fein's spokespersons. It wasn't simply his gift with a telling phrase or his considerable skill as a spin-doctor. Much more important was the fact that at a time when the republican movement as a whole was deeply introspective and paranoid, he was always willing to engage in discussion with journalists and other suspect outsiders. Now one sees that he was constantly developing his views, arguing that the republican movement had to change to meet changing circumstances.
Anyone who needs reassurance that the war is over - and wants to understand the difficulties of the journey that has involved for the republican leadership - should read this book. There is no appetite for a return to the war. Of course, there remains the danger of violence by dissident groups. There will, alas, always be young men and women who believe it is their duty to fight and die for Ireland. But, as Morrison argues, the most effective way to persuade them of the futility of violence is to show them that politics works.
The Belfast Agreement needs courage and flexibility to take it beyond the present impasse. This week Archbishop Robin Eames appealed to the paramilitary organisations on both sides to "heed the cry of the people . . . Tell us by word and action that the past is over, the war is ended." Surely this is not beyond the bounds of the possible for people who have already come so far? Perhaps it is time for Danny Morrison to spin a few final phrases for peace.
PS: It would be impossible to end this column without expressing appreciation for the life of Jack Lynch. I was in Derry when the British troops arrived in 1969 and the very real possibility of civil war loomed. Then and later, when he had to deal with a British government that had little understanding or sympathy for the emotional complexities of the issue, Mr Lynch steered a steady course.
We all have reason to be grateful to him.