When President Donald Trump unveiled his 21-point plan on the Israel–Palestine conflict, he framed it as the bold stroke only he could deliver: a ceasefire, hostage release, Palestinian governance under international supervision, and, eventually, the possibility of statehood. Israel has provisionally signed on. Hamas, predictably, has not.
On its face, the proposal reflects a rare attempt to balance Israeli security and Palestinian aspirations. Trump vowed to block Israeli annexation of the West Bank, called for dismantling Hamas’s military wing, and left the door ajar to a two-state solution — positions that once would have sounded almost centrist.
Yet beneath the diplomatic architecture lie risks that could undermine both the plan and US credibility. At its core, the Israel–Palestine dispute is not simply a matter of governance or security but an ethnic and national conflict: Jewish Israelis and Palestinian Arabs each assert historical and territorial claims to the same land.
Any peace framework that overlooks this fundamental reality risks treating symptoms while leaving the underlying grievance unresolved. This is why past attempts — from Oslo to Camp David — have faltered, and why Trump’s rapid-fire blueprint may struggle to gain legitimacy across both communities.
The Fault Lines
The plan is hostage to Hamas’s calculations. If the group resists, the ceasefire collapses, and Trump has already threatened harsher Israeli military action. That is less diplomacy than coercion.
The governance model — placing Gaza under a technocratic Palestinian committee supervised by an international “Board of Peace” chaired by Trump himself — raises sovereignty red flags. Palestinians may see it as foreign control, while Arab partners could balk at legitimizing what looks like trusteeship.
Trump’s promise to block West Bank annexation could fracture Israeli politics, alienating hard-right factions in Netanyahu’s coalition. And the plan’s vagueness on the sequencing of prisoner exchanges, demilitarization, and international enforcement risks disputes at every step. Those gaps carry four big dangers:
- Overpromising a quick peace that may inflame grievances.
- Straining US military readiness if enforcement falls on American troops without congressional or allied backing.
- Triggering regional escalation from Iran, Hezbollah or other militias.
- Undermining US credibility if adversaries see the effort as rushed or unsustainable.
The stakes were heightened when Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth summoned every US general to a closed-door meeting days before Trump unveiled his plan. To supporters, the timing showed strength: America’s military leadership united behind a serious push. For Hamas, it signaled a credible threat of escalation.
To critics, it looked more like coercion than diplomacy. If the generals were tasked with preparing for failure, it underscored the plan’s fragility. If they were used as political props, it risked blurring civil-military lines at home.
The European Union has also expressed cautious skepticism toward Trump’s 21-point Gaza plan. Several EU countries — including France, Luxembourg, and Belgium — have recently recognized Palestinian statehood, signaling their commitment to a diplomatic solution that respects Palestinian sovereignty.
EU officials have stressed that any plan must uphold international law, ensure equitable treatment of both Israelis and Palestinians, and avoid unilateral impositions.
Trump’s approach — rapid, top-down and heavily reliant on US enforcement — has prompted European leaders to warn that it could disrupt ongoing mediation efforts and complicate Europe’s role as a neutral broker.
Analysts suggest that if the plan is implemented without EU coordination, it may provoke diplomatic friction and further politicize international recognition of Palestine, amplifying geopolitical tensions.
Both China and Russia are maneuvering to exploit the opening. For Beijing, stability protects energy flows and Belt and Road Initiative investments. China frames itself as a peace broker while quietly deepening its regional energy ties.
But an American-led “Board of Peace” sidelines its influence. Expect Chinese officials to denounce the plan as neo-colonial while calculating whether calmer conditions in Gaza still serve Beijing’s interests.
Moscow, by contrast, gains most if the plan falters. Russia has long courted Hamas and Iran while presenting itself as a counterweight to Washington. Failure would reinforce its narrative that the US peace efforts are militarized and self-serving. Success, meanwhile, would be framed as exclusionary, monopolizing diplomacy at others’ expense.
A fragile chessboard
In diplomacy, as in strategy, a single overconfident move can shift the balance of the entire board. Trump casts his initiative as the “big deal” that can end the Gaza war, but in the Middle East, the board is crowded, the pieces are restless, and the margin for error is vanishingly small.
In this game, the winner is not the one who moves fastest, but the one who knows which sacrifices cannot be made. Either path of Trump’s plan could reshape the Middle East with both a challenge and an opportunity: peace if Hamas caves, escalation if it doesn’t. Rivals are already positioning themselves to play the aftershocks.
The world is left with a paradox: a peace plan that risks seeding more conflict, and a superpower asserting control even as its influence is contested. Trump’s Gaza blueprint frames it as decisive leadership; Brussels, Moscow and Beijing view it as strategic overreach; and in the Middle East, it is received as yet another imposition from afar.
Perhaps the real question is not whether Trump’s plan can deliver peace, but whether the players are prepared to accept rules imposed by one hand.
Yujing Shentu is a writer and policy analyst with a background in policy analysis and economic strategy, focusing on digital politics, international political economy and US-China strategic competition.
