A year ago, when peacemaking seemed part of the temper of the times in some other parts of the world, the hard men of the Irish Republican Army announced a cease-fire, pledging a "cessation" of hostilities in their 25-year-long guerrilla war against British rule in Ulster. If the Israelis and Palestinians could sit down together to negotiate, the reasoning went, why not the warring parties in Northern Ireland? So began the slow, slogging work of bargaining between London, Dublin and Belfast that over time would, it was hoped, make peace a habit and a settlement inevitable. Instead, last week, even before any final agreement had been reached on holding an all-party meeting to hammer out a peace settlement, the fragile, year-old Irish negotiations stumbled into their first major crisis, revealing the distrust on all sides that lies beneath the diplomatic surface.

The main issue is, unfortunately, both fundamental and unavoidable: whether to dismantle the I.R.A.'s vast military arsenal before the real peace talks proceed, and if so, when and how. For the I.R.A., giving up arms now would be tantamount to a surrender. But for the Ulster Unionists and the British who are pledged to protect them, the I.R.A.'s weaponry represents an intolerable threat hanging over the bargaining table.

To defuse the explosive issue, Irish Prime Minister John Bruton and his British counterpart, John Major, had planned a summit last week to announce the establishment of a U.S.-led international commission that would serve as an independent agency to supervise the progressive disarming of both the I.R.A. and Protestant Unionist paramilitary forces in Ulster. Less than 24 hours before the meeting was to take place, however, Bruton telephoned Downing Street to postpone it and "allow time to reconcile outstanding differences."

Senior British officials were surprised--even shocked--and discouraged. Privately, they blamed Bruton for "caving in" to pressure from Sinn Fein, the political wing of the I.R.A., and made it clear the next moves to break the impasse would have to come from Dublin. The usually restrained Financial Times noted editorially that "the risk of a resumption of violence by the I.R.A. has never looked greater."

To keep some diplomatic momentum going, Bruton postponed a planned trip to Canada in order to pursue a compromise with Sinn Fein. Aware of the key U.S. role in the peace process, Major sent his Political Minister for Northern Ireland, Michael Ancram, to Washington to brief the Clinton Administration. Meanwhile, the I.R.A. had sent Sinn Fein official Martin McGuinness to the U.S. to lobby for the I.R.A. position on weapons, to be joined shortly by Sinn Fein leader Gerry Adams. The summit setback, however, seemed too serious for a quick diplomatic fix.

In Dublin government sources stress that Adams simply cannot bring the I.R.A. to accept any deal on weapons that smacks of surrender. As one official put it, "There's no tradition in Ireland of surrendering weapons. They're just left to rust away ." Dublin believes if the British "push this thing too far," an official explained, "it could compromise Gerry Adams and the Sinn Fein leadership. An I.R.A. under hard-liners is the last thing everyone wants."

If Bruton is swayed by the I.R.A., Major must also take into account the views of the Protestant Unionist parties, whose support he needs in Parliament. British Secretary for Northern Ireland Sir Patrick Mayhew, for example, stresses that the Unionists, who last week elected hard-liner David Trimble as their leader, simply will not join talks until disarmament is under way. "They would not come to the table," explains Mayhew, "if we were prepared to talk with the shadow of the gun falling across the table." Unionist M.P. John Taylor argues that the I.R.A. and Sinn Fein can't be relied upon. "They must decommission their terrorist machinery," he insists. "With weapons, if they don't like what's happening at the negotiating table, they can threaten violence."

To Dublin, though, the laying down of arms should come as part of a political settlement, not before a pact is reached. "It's not been a good week," says former Irish Prime Minister Albert Reynolds. "It's a bad day for all of us if one government doesn't trust another." He believes "a verbal commitment should be enough to get the talks started. If Sinn Fein give their word, I believe they will carry it through." Reynolds notes that when the Israelis and Palestinians publicly accepted a U.N. resolution against acquiring territory by war, that was enough to get Middle East peace talks going. A similar pledge by the I.R.A. should be sufficient, he maintains.

That might be acceptable to the British government, but certainly not to the Ulster Unionists. As chaperones for the peace process, both London and Dublin have already become hostages to their respective clients. It may seem a mission impossible, but the task is to create enough trust between Sinn Fein and the Unionists-despite decades of bloodletting between them--to at least start on the path to peace.

--Reported by Paul Connolly/Belfast and Barry Hillenbrand and William Rademaekers/London