London, October 15, 2025 – In a bold diplomatic maneuver signaling the United Kingdom's resurgence as a pivotal player in Middle East peacemaking, Prime Minister Keir Starmer has unveiled a comprehensive proposal to disarm and demobilize Hamas in Gaza. Drawing directly from the architecturally intricate framework of the Northern Ireland peace process and the landmark Good Friday Agreement of 1998, the initiative aims to transform the militant group from a governing entity into a political actor capable of participating in a stable, post-conflict Gaza. This proposal emerges at a delicate moment, just days after the successful implementation of the first phase of a U.S.-brokered ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, brokered by President Donald Trump, which saw the release of all remaining living Israeli hostages and over 1,900 Palestinian detainees.
Speaking in the House of Commons on Tuesday afternoon, Starmer emphasized the UK's unique historical vantage point, forged through decades of navigating the treacherous waters of paramilitary decommissioning in Northern Ireland. "The gradual demobilization of groups like the Irish Republican Army (IRA) offers a proven model for stabilizing regions scarred by entrenched conflict," Starmer declared, his voice steady amid murmurs of approval from Labour benches and cautious nods from the opposition. "In Northern Ireland, we learned that true peace demands not just ceasefires, but negotiation, international verification, and the political reintegration of former combatants. These are the very steps Gaza needs today to ensure the recent truce endures and evolves into lasting security."
The proposal's timing could not be more propitious. On October 13, Hamas released the final 20 living Israeli hostages, including several taken during the devastating October 7, 2023, attacks that ignited the two-year war, claiming over 67,000 Palestinian lives and displacing more than a million in Gaza. In exchange, Israel freed approximately 1,900 Palestinian prisoners and detainees, including 250 serving life sentences, marking the largest such swap in the conflict's history. Aid convoys, poised at the Rafah crossing since the ceasefire's activation on October 9, began surging into the enclave on October 14, carrying 170,000 metric tons of food, medicine, and reconstruction materials. Yet, as jubilant scenes unfolded in Tel Aviv and Khan Yunis—families reuniting amid tears and cheers—the fragility of this progress was palpable. Israeli forces retain control over more than half of Gaza, including key southern and northern corridors, while Hamas fighters were spotted in Deir al-Balah, underscoring the urgent need for a structured disarmament path.
At the heart of Starmer's vision is a phased decommissioning process, meticulously modeled on the Northern Ireland template. The Good Friday Agreement, signed after 30 years of sectarian violence that killed over 3,500 people, succeeded where earlier truces had faltered by embedding disarmament within a broader ecosystem of incentives and safeguards. Under the oversight of the Independent International Commission on Decommissioning (IICD), led by Canadian General John de Chastelain, the IRA and loyalist groups like the Ulster Volunteer Force progressively surrendered arms caches between 1998 and 2005. This was no mere symbolic gesture; it involved verified destruction of weapons—through rendering them permanently inoperable—coupled with police reforms, prisoner releases, and power-sharing arrangements that integrated former militants into democratic institutions. The IRA, which never held formal governance like Hamas does in Gaza, transitioned into Sinn Féin, a legitimate political party that now co-governs Northern Ireland.
Starmer highlighted these parallels in his parliamentary address, noting that "the IRA's armed campaign ended not through force alone, but through a framework that guaranteed security while offering a political off-ramp." For Gaza, the UK envisions a similar Independent Verification Body, potentially headquartered in London or Cairo, comprising neutral international experts from Canada, Norway, and the European Union. This entity would monitor Hamas's surrender of an estimated 20,000 rockets, assault rifles, and improvised explosives, stored in vast tunnel networks beneath the enclave. The process would unfold in verifiable stages: initial handovers of heavy weaponry within 90 days, followed by lighter arms over six months, all tied to milestones like the full Israeli withdrawal from occupied positions and the influx of reconstruction funds.
Central to this effort is Jonathan Powell, Starmer's National Security Adviser and a towering figure in British diplomacy. Powell, 68, served as Tony Blair's chief of staff from 1997 to 2007 and was the unsung architect of the Good Friday talks, shuttling between Belfast, Dublin, and Washington to broker compromises amid IRA bombings and unionist intransigence. His recent forays into Gaza negotiations—attending a high-stakes summit in Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt, last week alongside Trump's envoy Steve Witkoff—have already yielded dividends. Powell's discreet synthesis of rival peace plans, including the Franco-Saudi blueprint for Palestinian statehood and Jared Kushner's "Board of Peace" for technocratic governance, helped shape Point 13 of Trump's 20-point framework: the demilitarization of Gaza.
Witkoff, a real estate magnate turned diplomat, publicly hailed Powell's contributions on October 13, posting on X: "Jonathan Powell's tireless efforts and incredible input have been essential to the sustainable implementation of this ceasefire." This endorsement came amid tensions; earlier, U.S. Ambassador to Israel Mike Huckabee dismissed British claims of a "key role" as "delusional," crediting Trump's deal-making prowess. Yet, sources close to Downing Street reveal Powell's influence was substantive: his insistence on mirroring Northern Ireland's prisoner release mechanisms facilitated the hostage-prisoner swap, while his warnings about rushed disarmament—drawing from the IRA's seven-year decommissioning timeline—tempered expectations for Phase Two of the Trump plan, set to begin imminently.
The proposal candidly addresses the labyrinthine challenges ahead. Hamas, which seized control of Gaza in 2007 after ousting Fatah, is not merely a paramilitary outfit but a de facto state administering 2.3 million people across health, education, and welfare sectors. Unlike the IRA, which operated in a divided society with British oversight, Hamas's arsenal includes Iranian-supplied precision-guided missiles, complicating verification. A senior Hamas official told Agence France-Presse on October 11 that full disarmament remains "out of the question," insisting on guarantees against Israeli re-invasion. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, whose cabinet approved the ceasefire on October 9 despite far-right dissent, has vowed that "Hamas's rule must be dismantled permanently," with the IDF poised to enforce compliance if needed.
European diplomats, speaking anonymously, caution that while the Northern Ireland model is inspirational, Gaza's asymmetries demand adaptation. "The IRA disarmed amid economic incentives and EU integration; Gaza needs Arab buy-in and billions in Gulf funding," one noted. The UK has pledged £500 million to a nascent Gaza Recovery Fund, modeled on Northern Ireland's International Fund for Ireland, which disbursed £1.5 billion since 1986 for cross-community projects. At a three-day London summit opening Friday, hosted by Starmer, leaders from the EU, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar will discuss channeling reconstruction through a Palestinian Authority-led body, explicitly excluding Hamas from governance.
Broader geopolitical ripples are evident. Trump's address to Israel's Knesset on October 14, where he basked in applause for "ending the war," underscored U.S. dominance, but his warning—"If they don't disarm, we will disarm them"—echoed Powell's pragmatic counsel. Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, in a nod to parallels, expressed hope for a similar accord in his conflict with Russia. In Gaza, displaced families in Nuseirat camps voiced tentative optimism; one mother, cradling her child amid rubble, told Reuters, "We've buried too many. If this means no more rockets or bombs, we'll support it—but only if everyone lays down arms."
Critics, however, decry the plan's optimism. Hamas hardliners, emboldened by surviving two years of Israeli operations, may splinter, birthing new jihadist factions akin to post-IRA dissidents like the Real IRA. Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas, sidelined and unpopular, risks irrelevance without reforms. And in the UK, opposition leader Kemi Badenoch accused Starmer of "naive multilateralism," ignoring Gaza's humanitarian "horror" in favor of photo-ops.
Yet, as Starmer concluded his statement, invoking Blair's words from 1998—"Peace is not an end in itself, but a means to a better future"—the proposal transcends skepticism. By exporting the alchemy that turned Belfast's barricades into assembly halls, the UK is not just offering expertise but reclaiming its post-Brexit voice. Phase Two negotiations, resuming in Cairo next week, will test this mettle. For now, amid the din of aid trucks rumbling into Gaza and families scanning skies for absent drones, a flicker of possibility endures: that from the ashes of conflict, as in Derry's once-bloody streets, a new dawn might rise.
