As we mark another anniversary of the Good Friday Agreement, we should be less inclined to celebrate and more disposed to worry. What was achieved on 10 April 1998 was remarkable. It worked not because it resolved everything, but because it deliberately did not, allowing former enemies to move forward without settling every question of the past. Yet it depended on consistent political leadership to embed its spirit into a society divided by grievance. That leadership is now faltering, with the risk of the past being weaponised in ways the Agreement was designed to avoid.
The struggle for a united Ireland continues. One of the Agreement’s greatest achievements was to move it from the gunman to the ballot box. But legitimacy cuts both ways. It cannot mean the British state passively accepts the systematic reinterpretation of the past through processes that are partial, unbalanced and detached from the conflict as we lived it. Nor can it mean exposing those who served under lawful authority to investigative frameworks that fail to recognise the conditions in which they operated.
Peace required not perfect justice, not complete agreement, but drawing a line under the past. That need was recognised in subsequent efforts to address legacy issues, including proposals led by Archbishop Eames. Yet governments of all parties have stepped back from the difficult decisions required to secure such closure. The current trajectory – repeated investigations, retrospective legal reinterpretation, new civil action avenues and a narrowing focus on state actors – can never resolve the past.
We should also remember what restraint looked like in practice. In 2009, outside Massereene barracks in Antrim, two off-duty soldiers, Patrick Azimkar and Mark Quinsey, were murdered in a calculated act of provocation by dissident republicans. The aim was clear: to drag the security forces back into confrontation. They refused. The response was disciplined, measured and lawful. Yet the killers were never brought to justice. Though the state showed restraint, the system it now relies upon has never been capable of providing clean or final closure.
All this matters not just for how we interpret the past, but for how we shape the future. If those asked to act on behalf of the state come to believe that decisions – taken under pressure yet according to the rules of the time – will be revisited decades later through a different legal and moral framework, the effect is predictable. Hesitation grows. Initiative declines. The moral component of fighting power is weakened. The credibility of the state is undermined.
This brings us to the Northern Ireland Troubles Bill. In its current form, it does not resolve the problem it seeks to address. There is no meaningful threshold for re-opening cases, no clear recognition of context, and continued exposure of individuals to processes that cannot deliver finality.
Some legacy inquests are already set to proceed and appear politically untouchable. These are previously investigated events where no wrongdoing was found. Alongside them sits a further tranche of cases destined for yet another round of legal sifting. This is not resolution; it is delay dressed up as process. If we are serious about honouring the Agreement, political leadership is vital and intervention is needed. Those cases should not be recycled through another layer of procedure. They should go directly to the Legacy Commission, where they can be considered in the round, with proper context, and with a view to drawing matters to a close rather than reopening them indefinitely.
More broadly, the bill must restore balance. It must introduce a clear threshold before cases can be reopened: genuinely new and compelling evidence, independently certified by a Supreme Court judge. The bill must recognise the conditions under which decisions were taken at the time. And it must provide those who served with the certainty that they will not be drawn repeatedly into processes, often influenced by ulterior motives, that offer no realistic prospect of closure. Such an approach is not about evading accountability. It is about restoring proportion. Above all, it is about political will.
The Good Friday Agreement worked because leaders were prepared to make difficult choices in the interests of stability. That same discipline is required again. Without it, legal process will displace political judgment, thereby destroying the balance that made peace possible. Anniversaries should not be moments merely for reflection: we should use them to put things right. In the interests of the country and national security, Starmer must stop this detrimental bill.
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