Baba Yunus Muhammad
At the White House on Monday, 29th September, 2025, Donald Trump and Benjamin Netanyahu marked their shared “peace plan” for Gaza by holding two press conferences at the same time.
To Trump, this was the dawn of a golden era — the end of bloodshed, the arrival of “eternal peace,” and the promise of a harmony unseen “for thousands of years.” To Netanyahu, the same deal was no utopia but rather the crowning of Israel’s war aims, one that neither advanced Palestinian statehood nor foreclosed his military option to “finish the job.” To Hamas, meanwhile, it was a mystery — a plan announced to the world before they had even seen its full text.
These diverging interpretations expose the hollow core of this so-called peace. What was presented as a unifying roadmap is, in reality, an ultimatum: a blueprint drawn in Washington and Jerusalem, delivered without negotiation to Gaza, and enforced under the threat of annihilation.
At its heart, Trump’s 20-point plan calls for Hamas to disarm, surrender its political role, and accept a transitional administration under foreign oversight. Gaza would be administered by unelected technocrats, backed by international security forces, with Israel maintaining “protective” perimeters. In exchange, humanitarian aid and reconstruction would trickle in. This is not a vision of partnership. It is a peace stripped of agency, where Palestinians are neither architects nor equals, but subjects of a decree. That Hamas was not consulted before the announcement only confirms the logic: this is peace imposed, not peace agreed.
The version floated at the UN General Assembly, in presentations to Arab and OIC members, was reportedly a 21-point framework with more overt regional buy-in. It emphasized immediate hostages’ release, the temporary transfer of power to an Arab-led authority in Gaza, and Israel’s staged withdrawal. In that version, reconstruction would be overseen by an Arab-international consortium. Hamas was to be disarmed over time, under the supervision of a regional “security force.”
By contrast, the White House unveiling gave us a 20-point plan, with harsher conditionality, greater deference to Israeli security demands, and tighter U.S. control. It proposed a technocratic “Board of Peace” chaired by Trump himself, Gaza governance by unelected administrators, and a demilitarization clause that precedes any political transition. Israel’s withdrawal is phased and contingent, and even when it occurs, a security perimeter remains. The difference is not cosmetic. Arab states reportedly bristled at Netanyahu’s heavy edits to the draft, which strengthened Israeli veto rights and shifted security timelines in Israel’s favor. These changes angered regional interlocutors who believed a consensus model was being pushed aside in favor of a U.S.–Israel diktat. Put simply, the UN/Arab version was pitched as co-ownership; the White House version is a unilateral imposition.
Hamas is unlikely to embrace such terms — and not merely out of obstinacy. To disarm first is to commit political suicide; to surrender governance is to erase itself. Any leadership that bows to such an arrangement would be accused of betraying the very people it claims to defend. For a movement forged in resistance, the plan’s conditions amount not to compromise but to extinction. Palestinians in Gaza, who have endured bombardment, siege, and unspeakable loss, will not rally around a diktat that treats them as wards rather than a people entitled to sovereignty. And without the consent of those who must live under it, no peace plan, however grandly unveiled, can hold.
The deeper tragedy is that the rhetoric of “eternal peace” blinds too many to the reality of subjugation. Israel can declare victory, America can claim statesmanship, and the world may momentarily exhale in relief. But peace built on humiliation is fragile. It silences guns only long enough for bitterness to harden into the soil of future wars. If this plan fails — as it almost certainly will in its present form — Gaza will face yet another round of devastation, justified by the narrative that Hamas “rejected peace.” The cycle of destruction, reconstruction, and renewed despair will continue, with ordinary Palestinians paying the price.
If Trump’s plan is to be more than a mirage, it must be re-anchored in justice and reciprocity. That requires inclusion of Hamas and Palestinian leadership in negotiations, however unpalatable to Israel and the U.S.; phased disarmament tied to guarantees of political representation, sovereignty, and protection from unilateral Israeli force; binding international guarantees from the UN and regional powers, ensuring accountability for all sides; and a credible pathway to Palestinian statehood, not as a distant reward but as the central objective. Only then can peace shift from being an ultimatum to becoming a genuine compact.
The images from Washington may have been staged to project triumph, but history will judge more harshly. A peace imposed at gunpoint, a peace that denies dignity and silences the voices of the governed, is no peace at all. It is the mirage of eternal peace — shimmering, seductive, and ultimately barren. The people of Gaza deserve better than ultimatums. They deserve a future where their humanity is acknowledged, their rights respected, and their aspirations realized. Until then, the promise of “eternal peace” will remain what it was at the White House yesterday: a performance without substance, a peace without partners.
Baba Yunus Muhammad is the President of the Africa Islamic Economic Forum, Ghana.
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