David McKittrick: The IRA's leaders have mastered a new language

When Irish republicans talk in private about "the army", they mean not the British Army but the IRA, a usage that reflects their ancient and deep-seated assumption that the IRA is the legitimate army of Ireland. The pride that republicans have about the IRA is palpable; they see it as an undefeated and defiant army that fought with valour and whose members made many sacrifices, with hundreds killed and thousands jailed.

While the troubles were at full intensity, IRA statements expressed an implacable will to bomb on until final glorious victory. Since the ceasefires there has been a new tone: self-important, loftily pointing out others' shortcomings, over-confident. It is this huge self-confidence that has made possible the statement of apology to the families of "non-combatants". The language was new and unexpected, at a stroke expanding the IRA lexicon from the portentous to the penitent.

Gerry Adams and other Sinn Fein leaders have in recent years increasingly explored the language of regret as part of their role as politicians. But it was startling to hear phrases such as "the hurt and pain we have caused" because it came not from the politicos but from "the army". Huge changes are going on here. The old republican simplicities had it that the IRA was a liberation army with a perfect right – indeed duty – to fight and inflict casualties.

The conflict was basically militaristic, with human considerations relegated to secondary importance. This applied not only to the IRA's enemies but to its own people: its jailed members, for example, were regarded as prisoners of war who were expected to handle 15 years behind bars.

In recent years republicans have become much readier to accept that these individuals and their families have been scarred by their experiences and need individual help. There is also a much more general acceptance that the Troubles have many other categories of victim.

Republican debate has widened to take in new horizons as the IRA ceasefire releases new energies and widens horizons. The new statement expresses changes that have been taking place within republicanism. It also, of course, addresses the political realities of the moment. Unionist leaders maintain that there is a crisis within the peace process, with David Trimble pushing Tony Blair to lean on Sinn Fein. The Prime Minister is scheduled to say something next week.

The next few days will also bring the 30th anniversary of the dreadful events of Bloody Friday, complete with a renewal of the unproven reports that Gerry Adams was at the time a senior figure in the IRA in Belfast. The statement will help to fend off some of the attacks, as well as buttressing the peace process.

Most Unionists are against the peace process. Many of them, in effect, care little for what the IRA either says or does. They reject David Trimble's argument that just because a man has a past does not mean he can't have a future.

Over the past eventful decade most Unionist representatives have determinedly avoided introspection and self-examination and have failed to produce systematic analyses of either their position or that of the republicans. The absence of such analysis has helped to generate Protestant angst. This simplistic approach means that many Protestants miss the significance of republican evolution. Others emit knee-jerk dismissals before making a calmer assessment.

Supporters of the process will take heart from the fact that the IRA and Sinn Fein are highly protective of the Good Friday Agreement. It is Unionists who threaten to bring the whole thing down, while republicans try to prop it up and keep it going.

The IRA statement was not just a response to immediate political pressures. This is the most coolly calculating organisation, and it will have been mulling over this move for months, and quite probably for years.

The organisation has certainly been up to no good in Colombia, and it is still involved in punishment attacks and other misbehaviour. Yet it has just apologised for at least some of its sins, and in practical terms it has put two consignments of arms beyond use.

Sinn Fein, meanwhile, holds offices in an administration wielding power devolved from Westminster, while the first-ever Sinn Fein Mayor of Belfast has just laid a wreath commemorating all the dead of the First World War. These are striking developments; indeed, viewed in the context of decades of Troubles, they are near miraculous. This is the same republican movement that carried out Bloody Friday: it has come a long way, inflicting much damage throughout the years, but the sense of transition is compelling.

The fact is, though, that the Troubles did not end cleanly with victory for the IRA or the Unionists or Britain. The conflict was a messy one, and its aftermath is equally controversial, confused and uncertain.

Political progress has been made, but there is as yet no real sense of friendship or partnership between the communities. Perhaps the fact that the Troubles lasted for so long means it will take decades to build better relationships.

In a conflict that is gradually and fitfully subsiding rather than coming to a definitive full stop, the IRA statement can be viewed as just one step among hundreds of moves along the difficult road to peace and reconciliation. The individuals to whom the statement was addressed may or may not be comforted by it, but perhaps there is some collective consolation in the very clear implication that the IRA intends to take no more lives.