Our reactions to the business of Mr Liam Lawlor's recent disgrace and humiliation have already said much about us as a nation and as individuals. There has been rather a predictable divide. The "serves him right" brigade and its vociferous "got off far too easy" outrider faction have had their say. The prim, proper and mealymouthed "there but for the grace of God" crowd, who apparently believe we all have dubious-acquired hidden wealth (but just haven't yet been fingered) have whispered their pious commiserations, blessed themselves and gone on their way. The stern unbending leader writers have pronounced magisterially from their pulpits to the effect that justice has been done. The man in the street has said everything else.
Meanwhile, we all wait avidly to see what Mr Lawlor will do now, and even more avidly to see what attitude he will assume. On the behavioural evidence so far, apologies seem to be unlikely. Explanations are even more unlikely. A firm purpose of amendment is hardly to be expected. "No comment" seems all we can hope for, and as Mr Lawlor told Charlie Bird, "If I make no comment, you know what no comment means."
The trouble is that for someone in Mr Lawlor's position, "no comment" really means "I have no intention of talking to you lot, and if I did, you would almost certainly misreport me, and if you didn't, you couldn't be expected to understand my position any better than that legal crowd." In his case, no comment is quite a lot of comment, and none of it is doing him much good.
Fortunately, Mr Lawlor has already been offered inspiration by this (very) newspaper: it was suggested the other day that he take on a "self-defined martyrdom" as the best way out of his difficulties.
There is much to recommend this suggestion. The martyr in Irish history holds a position of unparalleled respect. Top of our national list, without any doubt, would be Kevin Barry and Matt Talbot. There are many others, of course, some of them accused in their time of far worse crimes than failing to comply with a court order, but Barry and Talbot are paramount. Between them their martyrdom involved politics, religion and drink, and (sure) in Ireland, what else is there of consequence?
The "Top Two" sounds rather skimpy, however, and there is surely room for a bronze medallist. Step forward then, Liam Lawlor. Let the man reinvent himself as our third national martyr, crucified (as he would have it) by an unfair system, an ungrateful public, political enemies, legal niceties and traitorous former comrades.
Of course, joining the elite of martyrdom is not as easy as it sounds. Things are no longer as simple as they were in the days of Kevin Barry, or even Matt Talbot. Nowadays, a sound supporting base must first be established. A culture of appreciation needs to be built up. Representations will have to be made in the right places. Good contacts with Armagh and even Rome may prove useful. Certain parties will have to come on side. There may be more involved than winks and nods - some hard cash, perhaps. All in all, it will be a long and difficult process, but surely nobody will suggest that Mr Lawlor is not capable of handling it.
Martyrdom traditionally involves the energetic embracing of some great cause (Kevin Barry and national freedom), or else a brave renunciation (Matt Talbot and "the drink"). This may present problems for Mr Lawlor. As a modest drinker, it would hardly be a martyrdom for the man to renounce alcohol entirely. He therefore needs to find some cause to embrace.
These days, however, the cause does not have to be so mighty. Last Monday in Britain a man went on trial for refusing to sell goods in metric measurements. Steven Thoburn has been prosecuted for selling bananas only by the pound, in contravention of a Brussels directive adopted by Britain. Mr Thoburn has been dubbed the Metric Martyr, and his supporters have already raised £40,000 to fight the case.
Let others make jokes about banana republics and the "scales of justice", while Mr Lawlor makes "no comment". No doubt he has already taken comfort from a remark made by a Lucan supporter and reported in this paper on Tuesday: "He's no better or worse than any other politician. None of them are saints." No. Not yet. But a beatification process may have already begun.