The word most often heard from senior figures in the peace process these days is bemused. One minute there was an all-singing, all-dancing Northern executive, with ministers making decisions, bureaucrats bustling about and a constant flow of television footage and photos in the newspapers; the next minute there was . . . nothing.
Stormont had cast off its outmoded fashions from the era of discrimination and one-party rule, replacing the grey Craigavon couture with the multicoloured raiment of the new dispensation. Then the bell tolled. Only the collapse of the first ceasefire can compare in terms of gravity with the present situation. Thankfully there are as yet no signs of a return to "war", although nobody can feel comfortable with the fact that Omagh, of all places, has been inundated with hoax bomb alerts: 38 in all since the fateful bombing of August 15th, 1998.
There is no shortage of sick or purblind people yearning for the old ways. But there are still enough politicians and civic leaders of goodwill to give a sporting chance that, sooner or later, the institutions can be restored and a fresh attempt made at the restoration of normal political life.
The mainstream unionist stance is clear: if there is no IRA decommissioning, we are not going back. Unfortunately, it looks like an impossible position, as it is highly unlikely the IRA will ever decommission to a unionist agenda. The unionists may appear to have the high moral ground but their position is not sustainable in the long term because it will only lead to a return to conflict and chaos.
We are back to our old friend, fudge. The IRA cannot give a pot of jam today but can apparently hand over the whole factory tomorrow. Sinn Fein sources thought they had convinced unionists in the Mitchell review that the logical result of developing the peace process would be a voluntary IRA decision to "end in a permanent way the physical force tradition of republicanism on this island".
Unionist scepticism when presented with such a scenario is understandable, not least against a background of reported IRA gunrunning and unclaimed killings. But it is a prize of such proportions that the possibilities must be worth exploring.
The prevailing bitterness and mistrust means that nothing in particular may be explored for some time. Decommissioning may be engraved so firmly on the process that it cannot be removed as an issue. In an ideal world it could be put to one side, and senior republicans rue the day they agreed to entertain the subject in the first place.
The radical commentator Eamonn McCann recently described Sinn Fein's policy as "Fudge your way to freedom". There is a strong argument that a more blunt and in-your-face assertion by Sinn Fein that decommissioning in the near future was not achievable would have benefited everyone in the long term.
The Day of Reconciliation still survives as a possible way out of the maze. There was a strong adverse reaction in sections of the British media and from unnamed military sources to the notion of "equivalence" between the security forces and the IRA. One recalls from the early days of the Troubles a British soldier saluting an IRA man's funeral cortege.
The Day of Reconciliation idea was not spelled out in detail when it first emerged at the time of the Hillsborough talks last Easter. The more politically minded republicans thought the idea had its attractions but there was hostile reaction from a number of unionists and eventually the IRA gave it a firm thumbs-down. The notion originally surfaced in an address by Archbishop Brady and was picked up by a Dublin civil servant wearing his lateral-thinking cap.
Collective acts of remembrance were envisaged, presumably ecumenical services with political and civic leaders taking part. Security would be scaled down and something would be done about guns. There was talk of a ceremony with a symbolic handover of weapons, perhaps to a religious leader (shades of Bishop Hegarty's recent offer). There was even a suggestion about making a "peace sculpture" from the weapons used on different sides. Who could object to that?
It may be too late for creative thinking. A suggestion in the London media that the British army would resign en masse had uncomfortable echoes of the Curragh Mutiny of 1914. Nevertheless, the idea will probably be pursued and probed a little further. One of the weaknesses of the peace process is that it has not made the feelings and concerns of the bereaved and the wounded a more central issue. The Troubles will not be resolved by giving ex-paramilitaries a new suit and £38,000 a year but by achieving some form of closure on the suffering and the pain, clearing away a patch of neutral ground where former foes can say: "We inflicted much; we endured much; now it's over."
As always in time of trouble, the peace process looks to the New World for inspiration. Bill Clinton is on the last mile of his presidency and whoever succeeds him is unlikely to have the same level of personal interest in the problem. He will use his good offices to try to bring the parties together and there is bound to be some arm-twisting during the St Patrick's Day events in Washington.
It has been suggested that the Northern parties should be brought to the US for concentrated discussions, along the lines of the Dayton talks in 1995 about the Bosnian conflict, possibly with George Mitchell in the chair. The senator has rejected the prospect of returning to the North, but if George will not come to the mountain, then the mountain may come to George.