In early October 2025, U.S. President Donald Trump unveiled and brokered a twenty-point ceasefire agreement between Israel and Hamas, marking the first comprehensive truce after nearly two years of relentless bombardment, siege, and humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza. The plan, announced with characteristic triumphalism and hailed by Trump as a “historic victory for peace,” brought an immediate halt to the bombs that had turned much of the enclave into rubble. For millions of Gazans who had endured unfathomable suffering, it offered a brief glimpse of relief—a pause in a nightmare that had long seemed endless.
Yet, behind the celebratory rhetoric and momentary calm, the ceasefire raises more profound questions about the future of Gaza and the nature of the peace being promised. Is this truly the dawn of a new era, or merely a temporary suspension of violence that leaves the root causes of the conflict untouched?
More Questions than Answers
While Donald Trump’s ceasefire proposal offers certain constructive elements, it remains deeply flawed in both structure and substance.
Positively, the plan promises an immediate cessation of Israeli bombardment, the withdrawal of Israeli forces, and the facilitation of humanitarian aid and reconstruction efforts. It further asserts that Israel will neither annex nor occupy Gaza, and that Gazans will not be expelled but may leave voluntarily and later return. These provisions, if genuinely implemented, could mark an essential first step toward halting the ongoing devastation.
However, these seemingly pragmatic measures are overshadowed by substantial ambiguities and political deficiencies that undermine the plan’s credibility and its capacity to achieve lasting peace. Most crucially, the proposal defers Palestinian statehood to an indefinite future, making it conditional upon vaguely defined reforms and external approval. This approach effectively sidelines the question of sovereignty—the very cornerstone of a sustainable peace in Gaza—and replaces it with a paternalistic oversight mechanism reminiscent of the colonial mandates of the early twentieth century. Under Trump’s plan, governance of the Gaza Strip would fall under a so-called “Board of Peace” chaired by Trump himself and including former British Prime Minister Tony Blair—whose record in the Middle East is dismal—alongside other foreign figures. Such an arrangement recalls the Anglo-American tutelage model that began with the British Mandate over Palestine following the 1919 Treaty of Versailles and continued through successive Western interventions.
The ‘Board of Peace’ trusteeship does not just recall colonial models; it actively contravenes the modern international legal order. The right to self-determination, a peremptory norm of international law (jus cogens), is non-negotiable. By designing a framework where Palestinians are governed by a foreign-appointed board—chaired by the former president of a key Israeli ally—the agreement itself violates the foundational principle it purports to advance. The international community’s acceptance of such a structure would not merely be a policy failure; it would be a formal abandonment of the legal and moral principles that constitute its own legitimacy. Unsurprisingly, this proposed trusteeship has been widely criticised as a violation of the Palestinian people’s right to self-determination.
Moreover, the agreement is critically vague on enforcement, failing to identify clear signatories, guarantors, or mechanisms for monitoring compliance. This absence of accountability is particularly dangerous given Israel’s long history of violating ceasefires with impunity, a key factor in the collapse of the January truce and the failure of the Oslo Accords. In this context, Washington’s credibility as a guarantor is equally doubtful, given its selective adherence to the ‘rules-based order.’
Equally problematic is the plan’s provision for a “technocratic and apolitical Palestinian Committee” to administer Gaza’s daily affairs. Beyond the stipulation that its members cannot belong to Hamas, the plan offers no details about the criteria, selection process, or accountability of this governing body. The problem with this plan is that it risks replicating the core flaw of the Oslo Accords: the fatal separation of administration from sovereignty.
The proposed ‘technocratic committee’ is merely a reincarnation of the Palestinian Authority (PA)—an entity designed to manage the population and provide security for the occupying power, all while being denied the political authority to deliver a real state. This structure inevitably leads to a crisis of legitimacy, where the governing body is seen as a subcontractor for the occupation, ensuring its eventual collapse. Such a move would likely replicate past failures, especially given the PA’s reputation for failed governance and inability to safeguard Palestinian rights.
A Ceasefire May Stop the Guns—Only Statehood Can Heal the Wounds
While Trump’s ceasefire plan constitutes a crucial and perhaps necessary first step toward halting the ongoing devastation in Gaza, it does not represent a comprehensive or enduring peace. Despite being promoted by Trump as a “relentless victory,” the plan remains, by its very name, a ceasefire—a temporary suspension of violence, not a resolution of the conflict’s structural roots. The guns may have fallen silent for now, but the deeper wounds of occupation, displacement, and collective suffering inflicted upon the Palestinian people over decades remain unhealed. To mistake the cessation of hostilities for genuine peace would be to overlook the fundamental injustices that have defined the Palestinian experience for generations.
True and lasting peace in Gaza—and by extension, throughout the broader Middle East—cannot be achieved through provisional or externally imposed arrangements. It requires the establishment of an independent, sovereign, and unified Palestinian state, free from the vestiges of colonial oversight and geopolitical manipulation. Palestinians do not need trusteeship; they need sovereignty. Any sustainable political architecture must, therefore, be built on the recognition of Palestinian self-determination and equal status under international law. Trump’s proposal, despite its rhetoric of reconstruction and reform, is not a final agreement per se but rather a framework for future arrangements—arrangements that must ultimately evolve toward complete Palestinian independence if they are to produce genuine stability and justice.
The past two years have seen the intensification of Israel’s longstanding policies of occupation, targeting civilians and collective punishment—policies that have now been compounded by mass destruction and forced displacement, described by many observers as acts approaching genocide. Paradoxically, this unprecedented level of devastation has sparked a global moral awakening: across international institutions, civil societies, and even among states once silent on the matter, there is a growing consensus that the absence of a sovereign Palestinian state lies at the heart of the enduring instability. For the first time in decades, the international community stands closer than ever to acknowledging that there can be no peace without justice, and no justice without Palestinian sovereignty. Therefore, any diplomatic effort—including Trump’s ceasefire initiative—can only serve as an interim measure unless it is explicitly directed toward the creation of an independent State of Palestine. A temporary truce may halt the bloodshed, but only self-determination can heal the wounds of history. The path to regional stability does not lie in managing the conflict through conditional arrangements but in ending it through decolonisation, recognition, and statehood. Only then can Gaza—and the broader region—move from the silence of a ceasefire to the permanence of peace.
Post-War Gaza: From Ruins to Renewal
The ceasefire has halted the bombs, but now the urgent task of rebuilding Gaza begins. This is not charity, but a matter of justice. Israel’s campaign was a deliberate strategy to render Gaza uninhabitable, systematically targeting homes, hospitals, and infrastructure to create a wasteland. The psychological trauma has scarred a generation; children stopped learning, and the very idea of everyday life disintegrated.
The world now faces a choice: will it offer symbolic aid and hollow speeches, or demonstrate the moral courage required to help Palestinians reclaim their dignity, hope, and futures?
Reconstruction, however, cannot proceed in isolation from justice. Those who orchestrated and executed the systematic destruction of Gaza must not be allowed to escape accountability. The atrocities committed—the deliberate targeting of civilians, medical facilities, and essential infrastructure—amount to grave breaches of international humanitarian law. If the international community is serious about preventing future atrocities, it must ensure that these crimes are investigated and prosecuted. Justice is not an act of vengeance but a precondition for reconciliation and genuine peace. Without accountability, reconstruction risks becoming another stage-managed process that repairs buildings while leaving the roots of violence untouched.
The task ahead is monumental, but it is also moral and historical. What the world chooses to do in Gaza today will define whether the future of this region is built on ruins and resentment, or on justice, accountability, and the hope of renewal.
