The reported agreement by Hamas to complete disarmament has renewed speculation about what a future beyond war might look like for Gaza. It has also left many critical questions unanswered.
Under the roadmap negotiated through US President Donald Trump's Board of Peace, Hamas and other Palestinian armed groups would surrender their weapons in stages. Israel would withdraw its forces from Gaza, and governance would gradually transfer to a Palestinian transitional administration supported by international monitors and an international stabilisation force.
However, while Hamas has reportedly accepted the roadmap, implementation remains conditional on an Israeli withdrawal. For its part, Israel has expressed serious security concerns about Hamas' true intentions, maintaining it will not withdraw until full disarmament occurs.
For now, Gaza remains engulfed in conflict. Military operations continue, civilians are suffering, and the political obstacles to any agreement remain considerable. Yet the prospect of disarmament raises a broader question: if the guns eventually fall silent, what happens to the allegations of war crimes under international law, and how can peace be built between communities carrying profound trauma?
History suggests accountability must sit at the centre of any lasting agreement. In the former Yugoslavia, Rwanda, and Northern Ireland, this proved a long, arduous process. Israelis continue to live with the aftermath of the 7 October 2023 attacks. Gazans, meanwhile, have endured immense civilian suffering, large-scale destruction, displacement, and catastrophic loss of life. Claims of war crimes and crimes against humanity have been directed at Hamas leaders as well as Israeli political and military officials.
The Gaza Peace Plan unveiled last year—the basis of this latest agreement—is particularly contentious because it appears to grant complete amnesty to Hamas leaders, precluding accountability for alleged crimes under international law. Surprisingly, there is no mention of amnesty for members of the Israel Defence Forces or senior Israeli political leaders.
More broadly, the settlement focuses primarily on governance and security. If questions of justice and accountability are sidelined, profound grievances will remain unresolved, ultimately undermining the prospects for lasting peace and meaningful reconciliation.
For many on both sides, the core issue is not simply how the conflict ends, but whether their trauma is acknowledged and justice served. This brings the role of the International Criminal Court (ICC) sharply back into focus. Its investigation into alleged crimes committed in Gaza, the West Bank, and East Jerusalem began in 2014. In 2024, the court issued arrest warrants for Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, former Defence Minister Yoav Gallant, and Hamas military commander Mohammed Deif.
The ICC found reasonable grounds to believe that crimes within its jurisdiction were committed. That investigation continues despite Israel's objections to the court's authority. However, these developments unfold at the most fraught moment in the ICC's history. Prosecutor Karim Khan's removal following allegations of sexual misconduct has raised concerns about the credibility and legitimacy of the court, just as the Palestine investigation attracts intense global scrutiny.
While the existing warrants remain in force, the controversy underscores a wider challenge for international criminal justice: how to preserve legitimacy and public confidence while navigating deeply politicised environments. Indeed, the Trump administration recently expressed a desire to dismantle the ICC "brick by brick", leaving questions about genuine legal accountability hanging in the balance.
Accountability can contribute to post-conflict recovery, but rarely on its own. Following the wars of the 1990s, the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia prosecuted senior political and military leaders, creating an authoritative record of atrocities. Similarly, the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda pursued those most responsible for the 1994 genocide, advancing international criminal law.
Both institutions demonstrated that senior leaders can be brought to book. However, they also proved that court judgments alone cannot deliver reconciliation, erase trauma, or reconcile competing historical narratives.
The involvement of Trump's Board of Peace adds another layer. While governance and reconstruction are essential, Gaza will also need functioning institutions, economic recovery, and credible security arrangements if it is to emerge from years of war. Rebuilding physical infrastructure is only part of the task; building trust will prove far harder.
Northern Ireland offers a useful lesson here: the 1998 Good Friday Agreement succeeded not merely because weapons were decommissioned, but because institutions were established to manage political disputes peacefully. For Gaza, accountability and reconciliation cannot be treated as interchangeable. Even if Hamas disarms, that step alone will not resolve the legal and moral consequences of this war.