TEHRAN – President Donald Trump’s “Board of Peace” is being presented as a bold plan to rebuild Gaza and secure stability after a devastating war. With a $10 billion U.S. pledge and glossy presentations of futuristic cities, luxury hotels and a “Mediterranean Riviera,” the initiative is designed to project power and optimism. But beneath the branding and spectacle lies a project that advances U.S. and Israeli strategic goals while sidelining Palestinian rights and political reality.

The plan comes in the aftermath of extraordinary destruction. In the course of Israel’s war on Gaza, which erupted on October 7, 2023, more than 72,000 Palestinians have been killed. Entire districts have been flattened, and much of the enclave’s civilian infrastructure has been destroyed. Human rights organizations and several UN experts have accused Israel of committing genocide during its assault on Gaza, citing the scale of civilian deaths, displacement and systematic destruction. Israel strongly denies these allegations, yet they remain a defining part of the international debate.

Despite this context, Trump’s Board of Peace barely addresses accountability. There is no serious discussion of legal responsibility, no mechanism for investigating war crimes, and no framework for ensuring Palestinian political rights. Instead, the emphasis is on security arrangements, foreign stabilization forces and economic redevelopment managed under heavy external supervision.

More troubling is the underlying direction of the proposal. Trump’s broader vision for Gaza has included ideas that point toward the large-scale relocation of Palestinians outside the territory, effectively removing them from their land under the banner of reconstruction. Any plan that pressures or incentivizes Palestinians to leave Gaza — whether through economic coercion, security conditions or political restructuring — raises grave concerns about forcible transfer. Under international law, the forcible transfer or deportation of a civilian population from occupied territory is prohibited. Repackaging displacement as development does not change its legal or moral implications.

If reconstruction is tied to demographic engineering — replacing a devastated population with investment zones, high-end tourism and externally controlled governance — then the Board of Peace risks becoming a vehicle for reshaping Gaza without its people at the center. Development cannot be used as a substitute for rights, and rebuilding cannot be conditioned on surrendering land or identity.

Trump has also framed the board as a potential alternative to the United Nations, an institution he has weakened by withholding U.S. funding. This is not just institutional rivalry. It reflects a shift away from multilateral oversight toward a U.S.-dominated framework where Washington — and Trump personally — retain decisive control. In that structure, Israeli security priorities are clearly foregrounded, while Palestinian sovereignty remains vague and undefined.

The plan’s heavy emphasis on the “demilitarization” of Hamas, without equal focus on ending Israeli military control over Palestinian territory, reinforces the imbalance. Security is defined primarily from Israel’s perspective. Yet lasting peace cannot be achieved by disarming one side while maintaining occupation, movement restrictions and unequal control over borders, airspace and resources.

There is also a broader ideological context. For years, elements within Israeli political leadership have supported visions associated with a “Greater Israel,” consolidating permanent control over Palestinian land. A reconstruction framework that does not explicitly commit to ending occupation and recognizing Palestinian statehood risks aligning with that trajectory. Without a clear political horizon for Palestinian self-determination, redevelopment may entrench dominance rather than resolve conflict.

If Trump’s Board of Peace truly aims to end conflict, it must begin with a firm rejection of forcible transfer, a commitment to Palestinian sovereignty, and a clear end to occupation. Without those foundations, the initiative will be seen not as a pathway to justice, but as a reconfiguration of control — powerful in appearance, but hollow at its core.