When George Bush gets caught spying, at least he admits it. The British state and its agencies in Northern Ireland do not display even that limited degree of candor. The revelation that a British spy was the central figure in an episode that brought down Northern Ireland’s devolved administration has been met with evasions and dissembling. Peter Hain, the secretary of state for Northern Ireland, told Jonathan Dimbleby on his ITV show that the so-called Stormontgate affair was “turbulent.” But he failed to answer any of the fundamental questions that it has raised.

The story has sparked doubt, confusion and rampant speculation; some hard facts are worth emphasizing. In October 2002, about 20 police officers raided Sinn Fein’s offices at Stormont, which houses the Northern Ireland assembly. The raid was part of a series of operations that, it was claimed, uncovered a republican spy ring. The IRA, it was alleged, had garnered confidential information that could be used to target prison wardens, police officers and others. Four people were charged, but that dropped to three. When the case finally came to court less than a fortnight ago, the prosecution declined to offer any evidence. The three were acquitted.

Last Friday, a bombshell dropped. The key figure in the trio, Denis Donaldson, who was Sinn Fein’s head of administration at Stormont, owned up to a double life. He said that he had been a paid agent of British intelligence and Northern Ireland Special Branch since the 1980s. His exposure turned the accepted version of events on its head. As things stand, the only proven spying operation at Stormont was run by forces of the state. And a paid agent of the state had been pivotal in the unraveling of a democratically elected administration. It is hard to imagine a graver scenario.

Reaction to the disclosure of Donaldson’s role demonstrates the hypocrisy that pervades Northern Ireland politics. When blame for spying was being placed at the republicans’ door, the mainstream press denounced Gerry Adams and his allies. Where is that outrage now? Who seeks to put Donaldson’s handlers in the dock for their disdain for democratic principles?

But the most important aspect is the light it casts on the dark heart of Northern Ireland. It shows that factions in the security forces, so keen to condemn others for subversion, have continued to act nefariously to advance their agenda and that of their political allies, as they did throughout the troubles.

The Stormont raid took place at an amazingly fortunate moment for the Ulster Unionists. Many believed that Trimble was already planning a withdrawal from the devolved executive under pressure from hard-liners. The conundrum Unionists faced was how to bale out without having to shoulder the blame for collapsing Northern Ireland’s government — then allegations about the spy ring surfaced. Bill Lowry, who was head of Belfast’s Special Branch, left the force only weeks after the raid. He later turned up as a guest speaker at a meeting of Ian Paisley’s DUP, where he reportedly described Sinn Fein as the “devil incarnate” and warned that if unionists were to lie down “with dogs,” they would “get up with fleas.”

Espionage, double-dealing and dirty tricks have been rife on all sides in Northern Ireland for years. The murder of the Belfast solicitor Pat Finucane in 1989 is only the most infamous case in which very credible allegations of collusion between loyalist killers and the security forces have been leveled. The peace process did not bring an end to the dirty war. Paramilitaries and police continued intelligence gathering. The late Mo Mowlam authorized the bugging of a car being used by Gerry Adams and Martin McGuinness.