Michelle O'Neill always knew the crowd would come: but she chose not to address the issue at a press conference on Monday.
She had the perfect opportunity to ask that crowd not to come. She could have impressed upon them the need to stay at home and protect themselves and others. She could have reminded them of the unique circumstances under which we're all living and that their actions on Tuesday could kick-start the sort of spike which has seen lockdown restrictions reintroduced in other places.
She could have said a public 'celebration' of Bobby Storey's life would be held when it was safe to do so. She could have said a senior member of the Sinn Féin leadership would represent the party at a small funeral but, given her position as DFM and rule-maker for others, she would not be attending. She did none of that.
And in refusing to do so she lost all personal, public and political authority to tell the rest of us what to do. Crucially, she also lost the moral authority to sign-off on any other regulations regarding lockdown; for how could she possibly expect others to avoid crowds, maintain restrictions and exercise common sense when she refused to speak out on Monday afternoon? It is, of course, the sort of behaviour you can get away with when the political structures provide you with the built-in and permanent power to bring down a government if you don't get things your own way.
Her bigger problem, of course (and it applies to Mary Lou McDonald, too) is that she doesn't feel strong enough to face down the old-guard in the IRA. Telling the crowds to stay away on Tuesday, with the promise of a proper 'celebration' at a later stage, made sense (not least because it fitted in with the advice that the executive has been offering for months); but would have been interpreted by some in that old-guard as giving in to a unionist health minister and first minister. That was never going to happen.
I was one of the vast majority of people who heeded the advice of the executive from day one of lockdown and social distancing. I did what was asked: as did my partner and children. We weren't able to see family and friends. We weren't able to come and go as we pleased. We weren't able to mix in large crowds. We weren't able to hold or hug. We weren't able to pay our respects to friends who had died, or attend long-awaited weddings.
It wasn't fun for anyone. But most of us did it because we knew it was the right thing to do for ourselves, our families, our friends and society at large. And even when the restrictions were eased I continued to exercise caution - as the executive advised. Quite a few tweets came across my timeline from Sinn Féin ministers and MLAs urging caution and encouraging people to continue to act in such a way as best minimised the risks of contracting or spreading the virus. And O'Neill will know, because she has access to all the medical and scientific advice, that crowds - particularly when social distancing isn't observed - represent one of the greatest risks.
Will she resign? Of course not. When Dominic Cummings made the headlines a few weeks ago I argued that the greatest damage he had done was to '...simply do what he chose to do; and in so doing bill-postered the message that it's ok to make it up as you go along. Prepare for the earlier than expected collapse of lockdown.' That's exactly what happened. But while it's true that ageing codgers like me will continue to exercise caution and look out for other people, I fear that tens of thousands of others will now assume that it's ok to do what they want, gather where they want and mix closely together where they want. And Michelle O'Neill won't even have the authority to raise an eyebrow in disapproval.
I view it as a resignation issue (as I did with Arlene Foster and RHI in the spring of 2017). O'Neill is at the dead centre of government in Northern Ireland. Policy requires her imprimatur. She has been setting out lockdown restrictions and requirements for over three months and urging the public to join in the collective effort to conquer CV-19. Until Monday afternoon, that is - when she knew a couple of sentences from her would probably have ensured the crowds stayed away. Why would, why should anyone listen to her on any further restrictions?
