In January 2026, the world once again finds itself navigating a familiar fault line in global politics. Following the announcement of the second phase of a U.S.-backed ceasefire plan for Gaza, U.S. President Donald Trump introduced what he calls the “Board of Peace”—an intergovernmental body billed as a vehicle to move Gaza from devastation toward reconstruction.
On paper, the proposal promises efficiency and renewal. In practice, it has been met with widespread hesitation. Invitations were sent to nearly 60 countries and organizations, yet the international response has been notably restrained.
At the heart of this skepticism lies the board’s structure. Unlike traditional multilateral institutions shaped in the post-war era, the Board of Peace reflects a distinctly transactional vision of diplomacy. It is designed as a three-tier hierarchy, with a U.S.-led council of wealthy donors and political allies at the top, while Palestinian governance is confined to a technocratic body responsible mainly for municipal administration.
Perhaps the most controversial feature is its funding model. The board’s charter effectively introduces a pay-to-play system: countries or entities contributing $1 billion are guaranteed permanent seats, while others are offered only rotating, three-year terms. In doing so, influence is explicitly tied to financial power.
The logic behind Washington’s move stems from long-standing frustration with the existing international system. The Trump administration has repeatedly criticized the United Nations and its agencies as slow, bureaucratic, and biased against U.S. and Israeli interests. By creating a body that claims authorization from a past UN Security Council resolution but operates beyond routine UN oversight, the White House appears intent on bypassing traditional diplomacy in favor of a corporate-style trusteeship. The idea is to apply private-sector speed and decisiveness to post-conflict governance.
Yet this approach has triggered alarm rather than enthusiasm. As of mid-January, only a handful of ideological allies—including Hungary and Argentina—have openly welcomed the initiative. Elsewhere, concerns run deep.
One major fear is institutional erosion. Many diplomats view the Board of Peace not as a complement to the UN but as a rival framework that undermines the principle of sovereign equality. If political influence can be purchased outright, the foundations of international law—built on consensus rather than capital—begin to weaken.
Equally troubling is the scope of the board’s mandate. Although Gaza is the primary concern, the charter still does not specify territorial limits, but rather pictures a worldwide power that has the right to intervene anywhere the rule of law is unstable. Many states view this wording as a warning signal, and they see it as a means for unilateral intervention rather than as a peace initiative with a strictly defined scope.
Even the regional players like Jordan and Turkey from whose collaboration Gazas’ future largely depends, have looked at the proposal with caution. The major issue is that the board gives preference to foreign control rather than to the true self-determination of the Palestinians.
So, the crucial point is if this model can actually help to settle the Gaza crisis? The past demonstrates that long-term peace is based on two pillars: local legitimacy and political clarity.The Board of Peace struggles on both counts. The scheme portrays Gaza’s eventuality chiefly as a reconstruction venture led by global money-brokers, which in turn, impolitely handles the central political matters—occupation, demarcation, sovereignty, and statehood.
Reactions to the plan from Gaza have been characterized by a lot of distrust. To the people who have suffered through conflicts and lack of basic necessities for a long time, a system of governance that puts the Palestinians at a lower decision-making level is not at all comforting. A board chaired indefinitely by a foreign leader and staffed by figures widely seen as partisan does not resemble self-governance; it feels more like a new form of external management.
The financial underpinnings of the initiative further complicate matters. While rebuilding Gaza is estimated to require $53 billion, tying governance rights to billion-dollar contributions risks turning reconstruction into a corporate investment rather than a humanitarian responsibility. Critics warn that this framework marginalizes the UN in favor of a closed club where rules are set—and enforced—by a single chair.
Timing is an additional point of vulnerability. The second phase, although a ceasefire has mostly been maintained since October, includes delicate actions such as demilitarization and the setting up of an international stabilization force. If those actions are not universally accepted then they could easily escalade the internal conflicts. Moreover, if the board is seen as a tool of the U.S. government instead of an impartial arbitrator, getting the local forces to work together might be quite a difficult task.
What is unfolding is an attempt to redefine how international relations function. The Trump administration appears to be betting that global fatigue with the Gaza war will override commitment to traditional multilateralism. But peace means much more than just not having any violence or new buildings being made. It is a political struggle that has to be not only acknowledged, but also kept going, by the very people who have to deal with its results.
The Peace Board must either go deeper into its transactional bases or risk losing one of the most important aspects of its existence, that of being a highly ambitious proposal for a structure that is inhabited by no one, let alone maintained.
