How Trump’s Gaza plan is a blend of Pax Americana and real estate imperialism – Firstpost

The people of Gaza have long been caught in a relentless cycle of suffering—a tragedy amplified by the recent war that has reduced much of the strip to rubble. Since the October 7, 2023, terror attack on Israel by Hamas, they have endured indiscriminate bombings in retaliation by Israeli forces, the absence of basic necessities like water and electricity, and the suffocating grip of blockades that have turned their home into an open-air prison.

To make matters worse, Gazans have been treated as mere pawns in a geopolitical game, tossed between the competing agendas of regional and global stakeholders. Into this cauldron of despair steps Donald Trump, armed with his latest proposal to “solve” the Gaza problem.

There is a certain audacity that defines Donald Trump’s approach to diplomacy—a brazenness that borders on delusion. Framing it as an unprecedented opportunity for redevelopment, Trump envisions turning Gaza into a glittering resort city—a utopian reimagination of the beleaguered strip. His plan envisions displacing the current Palestinian population and turning the embattled strip into a gleaming beacon of luxury. The twist? Israel would supposedly “hand over control” of Gaza to the United States.

At first glance, the proposal seems characteristic of Trump’s approach: audacious, transactional, and rooted in the language of deal-making. In other words, the proposal is to “take over” the Gaza Strip, a forced displacement of two million Gazans, demolish what remains, and rebuild what Donald Trump calls “the Riviera of the Middle East”.

This proposal, which left even Trump’s closest aide Benjamin Netanyahu in awe in the joint press address at the White House, is emblematic of the hubris that often accompanies US foreign policy in the Middle East. For decades, the United States has acted as a self-appointed arbiter of the region’s conflicts, often under the guise of promoting democracy or stability. But beneath the veneer of “reconstruction” lies a troubling extension of Pax Americana, marked not by peace but by an unabashed attempt at real estate imperialism—a proposal that places geopolitics and optics above empathy towards Gazans and their sovereignty.

This warrants a serious question—what does Donald Trump imply by “taking over” the Gaza Strip? Have we reached the consensus on who it belongs to? What happened to the two-state solution? And do Gazans get to have a say in a proposal that decides their fate? The notion that Israel would “hand over” Gaza to the US is equally far-fetched. Perhaps the most glaring aspect of this plan is its overt focus on land as a commodity. Trump’s career as a real estate mogul shines through in his approach to international diplomacy. Gaza, in this context, is not a home to two million Palestinians but a “prime location” for redevelopment.

The question remains: where would the displaced Gazans go? Trump’s plan is conspicuously silent on this front, leaving one to assume that the issue of human displacement is secondary to the grand vision of luxury resorts and high-end development. The reactions from major democracies such as the UK, France, Germany, and Spain, several Arab states, as well as autocratic regimes like Beijing and Moscow, have been strikingly unified—a strong and unequivocal rejection of the proposed plan. Jordan, in an even more extreme stance, has gone so far as to threaten war against Israel in response.

From a foreign policy standpoint, this serves as a striking example of consistent American interference in West Asia—a pattern that persists irrespective of who occupies the White House. Whether under the guise of democratisation, counterterrorism, or economic restructuring, successive US administrations have pursued agendas that reshape the region, often prioritising strategic interests over the aspirations and realities of the people on the ground.

The United States has long held ambitions of remaking West Asia under the banner of Pax Americana—a vision of regional stability maintained through American influence. However, the historical context of America’s involvement in West Asia reveals a pattern of repeated failures, particularly when it comes to nation-building and peacekeeping. The invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan serve as cautionary tales, where trillions of dollars and decades of military intervention did little to achieve sustainable peace or democratic governance. Instead, these ventures left behind fractured societies, emboldened insurgencies, and destabilised regions, raising questions about US interventionism.

Trump’s Gaza plan also underscores the deeply ingrained American entitlement and its self-assumed role as the ultimate arbiter of global geopolitical issues. It embodies the outdated notion that the US can unilaterally dictate terms in West Asia without regard for the evolving balance of power or the agency of regional stakeholders.

We are, arguably, in a post-Pax Americana era, characterised by an emerging multipolar world. By presenting itself as the self-appointed arbitrator while ignoring the voices of Gazans and even key regional players like Jordan and Egypt, the US risks alienating both allies and adversaries alike. It reveals a tone-deafness to the complexities of a multipolar era, where regional conflicts require multilateral approaches and inclusive diplomacy rather than unilateral dictates.

Donald Trump’s Gaza proposal is not only a glaring contradiction to his much-touted “America First” policy but also a sharp deviation from his campaign pledge to end US involvement in foreign conflicts. This dissonance raises an essential question: How does Trump reconcile his non-interventionist rhetoric with a proposal that essentially drags America into the heart of the West Asian quagmire under the guise of nation-building?

The contradiction becomes even more stark when recalling Trump’s dismissal of questions on Afghanistan, where he candidly shut down a reporter by saying she had “a beautiful voice and a beautiful accent; the only problem is I (he) can’t understand a word you’re (she was) saying”. The US’ irresponsible retreat from Afghanistan and the eventual Taliban takeover, which Trump had called the “most embarrassing day” in the country’s history, have pushed Afghan people, especially women, to the edge of humanitarian crises with no access to education and basic freedom. In all fairness, the US cannot absolve itself of responsibility for the suffering of the Afghan people.

As the ceasefire agreement and hostage arrangement are underway between Hamas and Israel, such proposals with no stakeholders on board except Benjamin Netanyahu can sabotage the months of groundwork for consensus building. While presented as a grand vision for peace and progress, it dangerously oversimplifies the deep-rooted historical, cultural, and political complexities of West Asia.

The notion of turning Gaza into a “resort city” not only disregards the legitimate aspirations and grievances of the Palestinian people but also reflects a dangerously transactional worldview—one that assumes economic incentives can substitute for political sovereignty and justice.

Major world powers have the humanitarian obligation to contribute significantly by offering more inclusive counter-proposals and plans. Engaging a diverse range of stakeholders can pave the way for solutions that reflect the needs and aspirations of all parties involved. The coming months are crucial to restoring peace and order in West Asia; the need of the hour is collaboration over self-interest—a rare occurrence in geopolitics, but one worth watching.

The author collaborates on research with New York University, Abu Dhabi.. Views expressed in the above piece are personal and solely those of the author. They do not necessarily reflect Firstpost’s views.