A fragile peace, an international watch and a humanitarian clock
In a hastily converted warehouse on the edge of southern Israel, US Secretary of State Marco Rubio struck an optimistic tone this week about a deal that could finally end nearly two years of grinding war in Gaza. The caveat was blunt: Israel will have veto power over who makes up any international force sent into Gaza to police a ceasefire — a condition that could preclude some of the region’s most powerful and politically consequential militaries.
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The scene was jarringly domestic. Soldiers from a dozen countries milled around plastic tables; artificial turf had been unrolled as an afterthought; overhead screens showed shipments of fruit, vegetables, cheese and coffee that, officials said, were beginning to get into Gaza. A slogan from President Donald Trump — “A new and beautiful day is rising. And now, the rebuilding begins.” — floated across one screen like a motivational backdrop to a painfully slow peace process.
What’s on offer — and who gets to say yes
The proposed arrangement, spearheaded by the Trump administration, envisions a multinational force stepping into Gaza to oversee security after a ceasefire with Hamas. The plan is meant to lock in a truce that came into effect on Oct. 10 of the current phase of conflict, replenish supplies to a battered territory, and create space for reconstruction.
Rubio, visiting after a high-profile trip by US Vice President J.D. Vance, confirmed the deal would allow Israel to veto participating countries. That reportedly clouds the candidacy of Turkey — a NATO member and one of the region’s most capable militaries — whose ties with Israel have become openly hostile under President Recep Tayyip Erdogan. Turkey has hosted Hamas leaders and repeatedly accused Israel of gross abuses in Gaza, charges Israel rejects.
Other states have expressed interest. Indonesia — the world’s most populous Muslim-majority country — has said it would be ready to send troops, while the United Arab Emirates, which normalised ties with Israel in 2020, has been involved in monitoring already. Rubio said the United States may also seek a UN mandate for the force, because some contributors require the United Nations’ imprimatur to deploy troops.
The politics of peacekeeping
What looks like a straightforward security mission is instead a tangle of geopolitics. For Israel, the main priority is preventing any force that could be seen as friendly to Hamas or aligned with Ankara — hence the insistence on vetoes. For countries such as Turkey, participation would carry domestic political costs. For the United States, the calculus mixes strategic influence, the preferences of an administration that has grown wary of multilateral institutions, and the need to reassure Arab states that have pressed for an end to hostilities.
The proposal also lays bare a broader trend: a movement away from classic UN peacekeeping and towards ad hoc, often US-led coalitions. The Trump administration has already pulled back from many UN mechanisms and has repeatedly signalled reluctance to restore UNRWA — the UN agency for Palestinian refugees — to a central role, which Israel has long supported.
A humanitarian crisis outpacing politics
If diplomats argue over who will stand in Gaza, doctors and aid workers say the real emergency is the slow drip of medicine and evacuations. The World Health Organization described the situation as “catastrophic,” warning that food and aid entering Gaza remain far below needs and that humanitarian corridors are not being used at scale.
WHO Director-General Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus said there had been little improvement in hunger. The agency has supported the medical evacuation of nearly 7,800 patients since the war began two years ago, yet it estimates some 15,000 people currently need treatment outside Gaza — including about 4,000 children. Disturbingly, only 41 critical patients have been evacuated since the ceasefire took hold.
Rik Peeperkorn, the WHO’s representative in the Palestinian territories, has urged the opening of all crossings into Israel and Egypt not just for aid deliveries but for regular medical evacuations to West Bank and East Jerusalem hospitals — routes that were routinely used before the war. At the current pace, he warned, evacuating the 15,000 people who need outside care would take years; more than 700 people have already died waiting for evacuation since the conflict began.
Life returns — unevenly
Despite the devastation, there are pockets of tentative normality. In Khan Yunis, people shopped for fresh produce; the coordination centre’s screens touted improved flows of foodstuffs. Yet only 14 of Gaza’s 36 hospitals are even partially functional for a population exceeding two million — a grim metric of how deep the collapse of basic services has been.
Meanwhile, Israel says it is still waiting for Hamas to return the remains of 13 of 28 dead hostages that were promised. Hamas declared it had received “clear guarantees” from mediators — Egypt, Qatar and Turkey — that “the war has effectively ended,” and called for more pressure on Israel to allow humanitarian aid.
Why this matters beyond the region
There are larger questions here about how the international community responds when the UN system falters and regional rivalries shape the peacekeeping architecture. Will Western capitals accept a partial multinational force selected to suit one party’s security fears? Can humanitarian operations be insulated from political bargaining? And if the force is constrained by vetoes and political taboos, will it be able to do the job it is meant to do: prevent a return to fighting and protect civilians?
The Gaza proposal is a test of new diplomatic choreography — one that mixes US muscle, regional actors with competing agendas, and multilateral institutions sidelined or sidelining themselves. If it succeeds, it may set a precedent for how conflicts are de-escalated in an increasingly multipolar world; if it fails, the losers will be ordinary people who have already endured two years of warfare.
As diplomats argue over troop lists and mandates, those on the ground are asking a simpler, more urgent question: how soon can patients be treated, food arrive reliably, and hospitals reopen? The answer to that question will likely determine whether this fragile peace can be stitched together before another rupture makes a mockery of diplomacy.
By Abdiwahab Ahmed
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.
