By Dr Mohd Safar Hasim
Donald Trump’s proposal defies global consensus, reframes Gaza as a sectarian burden, and risks legitimising displacement under the guise of diplomacy.
As the war in Gaza grinds into its second year, the international community stands at a moral inflection point. President Donald Trump’s latest peace proposal—unveiled at the UN General Assembly—is being marketed as a bold humanitarian breakthrough.
But beneath its polished surface lies a strategic fallacy: a plan that promises resolution while entrenching injustice, and one that risks derailing the growing global consensus for Palestinian statehood.
Trump’s proposal offers familiar ingredients: a ceasefire, phased Israeli withdrawal, humanitarian aid, and a postwar governance model led by the Palestinian Authority.
It even gestures toward international oversight through a Muslim and Arab peacekeeping force, backed by the United States.
Yet these elements, while superficially aligned with existing UN and Arab League frameworks, are framed in ways that undermine their legitimacy. The plan is not a bridge to peace—it is a trap designed to fracture multilateral unity and reassert American primacy over a process that demands global stewardship.
The most glaring flaw lies in Trump’s rhetorical framing. By declaring his plan the only “serious” path to peace, he pre-emptively delegitimises dissent. UN members who question the plan’s viability are cast as obstructionists, regardless of their longstanding support for Palestinian rights.
This binary logic—support the plan or be branded unserious—violates the spirit of multilateral diplomacy and reduces a complex humanitarian crisis to a transactional ultimatum.
Even more troubling is Trump’s attempt to reframe Gaza as a “Muslim problem.” By proposing a peacekeeping force composed solely of Muslim and Arab countries, he subtly shifts the burden of resolution away from the international community and onto a religious bloc.
This framing is not only reductive—it is dangerous. Gaza is not a sectarian crisis. It is a human crisis. The suffering of civilians, the destruction of infrastructure, and the denial of basic rights demand a response rooted in universal principles, not religious compartmentalisation.
A credible peace framework must be anchored in multilateral legitimacy—through a UN-backed force composed of diverse nations, Muslim and non-Muslim alike, operating under humanitarian law.
Benjamin Netanyahu’s response further exposes the plan’s hollowness. Israel continues its military operations in Gaza, rejects Palestinian statehood outright, and shows no intention of complying with Trump’s roadmap. This is not a tactical disagreement—it is a strategic repudiation.
Netanyahu understands Trump’s pattern of inconsistency and sees the proposal as performative, designed more for optics than enforcement. In effect, Trump’s plan offers Israel diplomatic cover without accountability, while placing the burden of compromise on Palestinian shoulders.
Other elements of the plan, though seemingly aligned with multilateral proposals, reveal deeper contradictions. The exclusion of Hamas from any future governance, for instance, is presented as a security necessity.
Yet it risks delegitimising a significant portion of Palestinian political representation and deepening internal fragmentation.
Unlike UN frameworks that call for reform and reconciliation, Trump’s approach pre-empts Palestinian agency by dictating who is “acceptable” to govern.
The plan’s economic vision is equally problematic. Trump has previously suggested that Gaza could be “cleared” and rebuilt as a model city for American investment. This rhetoric commodifies Gaza’s suffering and reframes peace as a real estate opportunity.
It echoes colonial logic and risks legitimising displacement under the guise of development. Reconstruction must serve the people of Gaza—not foreign investors seeking sanitised profit zones.
Moreover, the plan offers no clear path to Palestinian statehood. It avoids any commitment to sovereignty, territorial guarantees, or legal timelines. This strategic ambiguity allows Israel to maintain control while appearing to engage in peace diplomacy.
Without enforceable mechanisms, the plan becomes a diplomatic smokescreen—offering headlines but no hope. This is why the international response has been swift and critical. Egypt and Jordan have rejected any displacement of Palestinians into their territories, warning that such moves would violate peace treaties and regional stability.
Saudi Arabia denounced Netanyahu’s suggestion that Palestinians could be absorbed into Saudi territory as “extremist and occupying” rhetoric. Qatar condemned Israeli strikes and linked them to the timing of Trump’s proposal, calling them “cowardly and treacherous.”
Australia, the UK, Germany, Ireland, Spain, Russia, and China have all reaffirmed support for a two-state solution and distanced themselves from Trump’s plan. Even within the United States, Secretary of State Marco Rubio and Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt have struggled to defend the proposal, offering vague reassurances about “temporary” displacement while avoiding firm commitments.
In contrast, existing multilateral proposals—backed by the UN, EU, Arab League, and an increasingly assertive Global South—centre on justice, sovereignty, and Palestinian agency. They reject forced displacement, demand accountability, and uphold the right to self-determination.
These frameworks are rooted in international law and reflect the lived realities of those most affected. They are not perfect, but they are principled.
Malaysia, Indonesia, and Brunei have voiced support for Palestine, yet ASEAN as a bloc remains cautious. In this moment, silence is complicity. The UN’s credibility—and the moral clarity of its members—depends on rejecting peace by ultimatum and standing firm for justice.
Trump’s plan may offer optics, but it does not offer integrity. It is a diplomatic mirage, and the UN must not chase it.
Peace cannot be imposed. It must be built—through principle, multilateralism, and the courage to resist political theatre.
The views expressed here are entirely those of the writer, Dr Mohd Safar Hasim, a Council Member of the Malaysian Press Institute)
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