The ceasefire that took effect has been fragile from the start.
Along the Gaza coastline, where nearly two million people shelter in damaged structures and tents, a diplomatic architecture meant to end years of war stands largely unbuilt. Trump's framework secured a ceasefire and reopened the Rafah crossing, but the deeper questions — who disarms, who withdraws, who governs, and who is trusted to go first — remain unanswered. History has seen many such moments where the cessation of violence is mistaken for the arrival of peace, and this one is no different: the outline exists, but the substance does not.
- Hamas refuses to surrender its weapons until it receives a concrete disarmament proposal — and neither Washington nor the mediators have offered one.
- Israeli forces have killed at least 488 Palestinians since the October 10 ceasefire, still occupy more than half of Gaza, and senior officials say the military is preparing to resume full-scale operations.
- Nearly two million Gazans are confined to a narrow coastal strip, living in tents or damaged buildings with aid flowing far below the levels the ceasefire agreement promised.
- The second phase of the plan — disarmament, withdrawal, and transitional governance — is colliding with irreconcilable demands: Hamas wants its ten thousand police integrated into the new government; Israel flatly refuses.
- Jared Kushner's renderings of gleaming towers and data centers offer a vision of reconstruction that says nothing about property rights, displaced families, or where people live while it happens.
- Many on both sides have already concluded the Trump plan will not be fully implemented, and that what lies ahead is not peace but a frozen conflict of indefinite duration.
The Rafah crossing reopened on Monday, a moment that carried the appearance of progress. But the crossing's return to operation could not conceal what remains absent: a functioning peace architecture. Trump's framework, backed by a UN Security Council resolution and signed by both Israel and Hamas in October, was ambitious in its design — ceasefire, disarmament, withdrawal, reconstruction under a transitional government. Phase one largely held. Hostages were exchanged, aid resumed, and the fighting scaled down. It was not peace, but it was less war.
Since the October 10 ceasefire took effect, however, Israeli forces have killed at least 488 Palestinians, according to Gaza health authorities, while militants have killed four Israeli soldiers. Israel still controls more than half of Gaza, including border zones where buildings have been demolished and residents displaced. Nearly all of Gaza's two million people are now crowded into a narrow coastal strip, living in tents or damaged structures, with aid organizations reporting that supplies are not entering at the rates the agreement required. Israel disputes this.
Phase two is where the plan begins to fracture. Washington has announced a committee of Palestinian technocrats to administer Gaza, overseen by a Trump-led international board. But the phase requires Hamas to surrender its weapons — hundreds of rockets and thousands of light arms — in exchange for a full Israeli military withdrawal. Two Hamas officials told Reuters that no concrete disarmament proposal has been presented to them. Two senior Israeli officials told Reuters the military is preparing to resume full-scale operations if Hamas does not comply, and that they do not expect the group to disarm voluntarily.
The remaining disputes compound the problem. Hamas wants its ten thousand police officers folded into the new government; Israel refuses. The composition of an international stabilization force is undefined. Palestinian Authority reforms, required before the PA can play any role in Gaza, have not been specified. And while Jared Kushner has unveiled renderings of a rebuilt Gaza with towers and data centers, the plan is silent on property rights for those who lost homes, or where the displaced will live during reconstruction.
What has taken shape is a peace process that exists in outline but not in substance. The ceasefire has held enough to allow symbolic gestures — an open crossing, resumed aid — but it has not resolved the central question of whether either side trusts the other enough to move first. A growing number of Israelis and Palestinians have already reached the same quiet conclusion: that what lies ahead is not resolution, but a frozen conflict that could endure for years.
The Rafah crossing between Gaza and Egypt opened its gates again on Monday, a symbolic moment that suggested Trump's plan to end the war might be gaining traction. But the crossing's reopening masked a deeper problem: the architecture of peace that was supposed to follow the October ceasefire remains fundamentally unbuilt, with the two sides still separated by chasms on questions that could determine whether any lasting settlement takes hold.
Trump's framework, unveiled in September, was straightforward in its ambition. It called for a ceasefire followed by Hamas disarmament, Israeli withdrawal, and international reconstruction of Gaza under a transitional government. A UN Security Council resolution backed the plan. On October 9, Israel and Hamas signed on to the first phase. Fighting largely stopped. Hostages were exchanged for prisoners. Aid began flowing. The Rafah crossing, which had been a chokepoint for humanitarian supplies, was supposed to reopen. By most measures, phase one worked.
But the ceasefire that took effect on October 10 has been fragile from the start. Israeli forces have killed at least 488 Palestinians since then, according to Gaza health authorities, while four Israeli soldiers have died at the hands of militants. The fighting never truly stopped—it simply scaled down. Israeli forces pulled back from some positions but still occupy more than half of Gaza, including devastated neighborhoods along the Israeli and Egyptian borders where they have demolished buildings and displaced residents. Nearly all of Gaza's more than two million people are now confined to a narrow strip of coastline, living in damaged structures or tents. Aid organizations and Palestinian groups say Israel is not allowing supplies in at the rate the ceasefire agreement promised. Israel disputes this.
Now the plan has entered its second phase, the part where the real test begins. Washington announced the formation of a committee of Palestinian technocrats to administer Gaza, overseen by a "Board of Peace" of international figures led by Trump himself. But this is where the agreement starts to unravel. The second phase requires Hamas to surrender its weapons—an estimated hundreds of rockets and thousands of light weapons—in exchange for a full Israeli military withdrawal. Hamas has agreed to discuss disarmament with other Palestinian factions and mediators, but two Hamas officials told Reuters that neither Washington nor the mediators have presented them with any concrete proposal for how this would actually happen. Two senior Israeli officials, meanwhile, told Reuters that the military is preparing to resume full-scale operations if Hamas does not disarm, and that they do not believe the group will surrender its weapons without force.
Hamas has also demanded that its ten thousand police officers be incorporated into the new technocrat-led government—a demand Israel flatly opposes. The composition, mandate, and role of an international stabilization force meant to keep the peace remain undefined. The Palestinian Authority, which exercises limited self-rule in parts of the West Bank, is supposed to undergo unspecified reforms before taking any role in Gaza, but no details have been worked out. Jared Kushner, Trump's son-in-law, recently unveiled glossy renderings of a "New Gaza" with gleaming towers and data centers, but the plan says nothing about property rights for Palestinians who lost homes and businesses, or where the displaced might live while reconstruction happens.
What emerges from this tangle of unresolved questions is a peace process that exists more in outline than in substance. The ceasefire has held enough to allow the Rafah crossing to reopen and aid to resume, but it has not resolved the core dispute: whether Hamas will actually disarm, whether Israel will actually leave, and whether either side trusts the other enough to take the first step. Many Israelis and Palestinians have already concluded that the Trump plan will never be fully implemented, and that what lies ahead is not peace but a frozen conflict that could persist indefinitely.
Citações Notáveis
Two senior Israeli officials told Reuters that the military was preparing to return to war if Hamas does not give up its weapons and that it did not expect the militants to disarm without the use of force.— Israeli military officials
Two Hamas officials told Reuters that neither Washington nor the mediators had presented the group with any detailed or concrete disarmament proposal.— Hamas officials
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
The Rafah crossing reopening sounds like progress. Why does it feel like the plan is already in trouble?
Because reopening a crossing is logistics. What matters is whether Hamas gives up its weapons and Israel actually leaves. Those are the things that require trust, and right now there's almost none.
So Hamas won't disarm?
They say they'll discuss it. But they're also saying no one has given them a real proposal for how it would work. And Israel is saying they won't disarm without force. Those two positions don't meet anywhere.
What about the Palestinian technocrats running Gaza? Doesn't that solve the governance problem?
It solves who sits in the office. It doesn't solve whether Hamas keeps its guns, or whether Israel leaves, or whether anyone believes the other side will honor the deal. The technocrats are window dressing on a much deeper disagreement.
Two million people are confined to a coastal strip. How long can that hold?
That's the real question. The ceasefire has kept large-scale fighting from resuming, but it hasn't actually improved conditions on the ground. People are still in damaged buildings or tents. Aid is still inadequate by the agreement's own terms. At some point, that pressure builds.
So what happens if Hamas refuses to disarm?
Israel says it's preparing to go back to war. And based on what the officials told Reuters, they don't think Hamas will disarm without that threat becoming real. Which means the ceasefire could collapse at any moment.
Is there any scenario where this actually works?
Only if both sides decide the alternative—returning to full-scale war—is worse than the compromises required. Right now, neither side seems to have reached that conclusion.