The unveiling of the Gaza “Board of Peace” at the World Economic Forum by President Trump was designed to project confidence, decisiveness, and vision. Instead, it exposed something far more unsettling: a growing international vacuum of legitimacy, where power increasingly substitutes for authority and spectacle for moral credibility.

At a moment when the Gaza Strip lies shattered—physically, socially, and politically—the proposal of a new, U.S.-led peace body operating largely outside established multilateral institutions is not merely a policy experiment. It’s a statement about how peace is now imagined: centralized, transactional, and managed from above rather than cultivated from within.

Peace as Architecture, Not Reconciliation

The Board of Peace reflects a broader trend in contemporary diplomacy: the belief that political order can be engineered through structure alone. Charters are drafted, boards assembled, donors courted, and authority declared, often before legitimacy is earned. In this model, peace is treated less as a moral and relational achievement and more as a technical outcome, something that can be designed, funded, and enforced if the right people sit at the table.

But peace, particularly in a place like Gaza, is not primarily a governance problem. It’s a trust problem, a justice problem, and a memory problem. Decades of displacement, war, and broken promises can’t be overcome by an externally imposed board, no matter how well funded or globally connected. When peace is reduced to institutional architecture without moral consensus, it becomes fragile by design.

The UN Question

Much of the Board’s appeal rests on dissatisfaction with the United Nations. That frustration isn’t unwarranted. The UN is slow, politicized, and often paralyzed by vetoes and competing national interests. Yet the solution to an imperfect institution is reform, not circumvention.

The UN’s strength has never been efficiency but legitimacy. Its authority flows from broad, if imperfect, international consent. By contrast, a parallel body—especially one chaired by a sitting U.S. president and shaped by financial contribution—risks appearing as an extension of great-power politics rather than a neutral instrument of peace. Once legitimacy is fractured, even well-intentioned interventions are viewed with suspicion, resistance, or outright rejection.

Davos Optics vs. Gaza Reality

There’s something jarring about announcing a peace initiative for Gaza amid the polished halls of Davos. While leaders speak of long-term redevelopment and economic transformation, families in Gaza continue to struggle for heat, shelter, clean water, and basic security. This disconnect matters. Peace that’s imagined in elite forums but not rooted in lived suffering often feels imposed rather than shared.

Grand visions of a “new Gaza” may inspire investors and diplomats, but they can alienate those who see their immediate needs sidelined in favor of glossy future promises. Reconstruction that begins with aesthetics rather than survival risks becoming morally hollow. Before there can be renewal, there must be relief. Before governance reform, there must be dignity.

Power Without Accountability

Perhaps the most troubling feature of the Board of Peace is its implicit logic of power. Influence appears tied not to representation or moral authority, but to political alignment and financial capacity. This creates a model of peace that favors wealthy states and powerful actors while marginalizing smaller nations and, critically, local voices.

Peace imposed by power may quiet violence temporarily, but it rarely heals wounds. Without meaningful Palestinian participation and consent, any governing arrangement in Gaza will lack durability. History is unambiguous on this point: peace agreements that exclude those most affected by conflict tend to collapse under the weight of resentment and mistrust.

A Deeper Crisis Than Gaza

In the end, the Board of Peace says as much about the international system as it does about Gaza. It reflects a world increasingly skeptical that existing institutions can deliver justice, yet uncertain how to replace them without surrendering to raw power politics. The danger isn’t merely that this initiative may fail, but that it normalizes a future in which peace is managed by ad hoc coalitions rather than grounded in shared norms and accountability.

True peace requires more than boards and charters. It demands moral credibility, patient diplomacy, local ownership, and a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about injustice, responsibility, and human dignity. Without those foundations, even the boldest initiatives risk becoming monuments to ambition rather than instruments of reconciliation.

Conclusion: Vision Without Legitimacy Is Not Peace

The Gaza Board of Peace may be ambitious, and ambition isn’t inherently wrong. But ambition divorced from legitimacy, humility, and moral seriousness is dangerous. If the international community wishes to help Gaza move from devastation to stability, it must resist the temptation to replace slow legitimacy with fast authority.

Peace can’t be announced into existence. It must be built, patiently and inclusively, on the hard ground of truth, justice, and trust. Anything less may look decisive in Davos, but it won’t endure in Gaza.