Trump Courts Arab Leaders For A New Middle East Order After Gaza

The war in Gaza may be drawing to its bitter end, but what comes next could shape the Middle East for decades. President Donald Trump is positioning himself at the center of the effort to chart a post-war order, a move that has set off both intrigue and concern as to where this might be heading.

In recent days, Trump has convened or prepared to meet with leaders from Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Egypt, Jordan, Turkey, Indonesia, and Pakistan. The message is clear: the United States wants Arab and Muslim nations not only at the table, but on the ground in Gaza.

What Trump is proposing is a plan that, at least in broad strokes, seeks to secure the release of hostages, provide a roadmap for Israeli withdrawal, and establish a form of governance in Gaza that leaves Hamas on the sidelines. But the most striking--and controversial--element is the idea of a multinational peacekeeping force drawn largely from Muslim and Arab states. Indonesia has already signaled its willingness to send tens of thousands of troops. Others, including Egypt and Jordan, are being courted for similar commitments.

For many observers, this is nothing short of remarkable. The idea of Muslim troops entering Gaza to replace the Israeli Defense Forces could be seen as a step toward regional ownership of a Palestinian future. It would also relieve the United States from having to commit its own soldiers--an option that would be deeply unpopular at home. Instead, Washington would likely play a background role, offering logistical, financial, and intelligence support, while leaving the visible presence to regional partners.

But the plan is fraught with challenges. Israel has already made it known that there will be "bitter pills to swallow." Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is aware of the broad contours of Trump's proposal but faces fierce opposition from within his own government to any scenario that hands even partial authority back to the Palestinian Authority or reduces Israel's control over Gaza's borders. For Israel, the nightmare scenario is a premature withdrawal that allows Hamas--or a successor militant group--to reassert itself.

Arab states, too, are wary. Sending troops into Gaza is not just a question of logistics; it is a political gamble. Peacekeeping forces can quickly become targets, and no Arab government wants to see its soldiers killed in a conflict that is not fully under its command. Conditions would have to be tightly defined: who controls the force, how long it stays, what its rules of engagement are, and how it coordinates with both Israel and the Palestinians. Without clear answers, many nations may hesitate to commit.

One of the most glaring problems with Trump's vision is the assumption that Muslim-majority nations can act as neutral peacekeepers in Gaza. History gives plenty of reasons to doubt this. Many Arab and Muslim countries harbor deep hostility toward Israel, rooted in decades of conflict, ideology, and cultural resentment. Even governments that have formal diplomatic ties with Israel often face domestic populations where anti-Israel sentiment runs high. Placing their troops in Gaza, in close proximity to Israel, is not the same as stationing them in a neutral territory--it is putting them directly into one of the most combustible environments on earth.

The danger is that instead of acting as impartial guardians of peace, these troops could become sympathetic to, or even complicit with, anti-Israel factions. We've already seen how international aid agencies, meant to deliver humanitarian relief, have in some cases been infiltrated or manipulated by terrorist groups operating in Gaza. This wasn't accidental--it stemmed from an environment where hatred of Israel runs so deep that "neutrality" is almost impossible to sustain. If soldiers from countries with histories of animosity toward Israel are asked to manage Gaza's future, the same risk applies on a far more dangerous scale.

For Israel, that is a nightmare scenario. Imagine a multinational peacekeeping force where the uniforms are different, but the underlying hostility remains. Even if these soldiers are formally tasked with enforcing security, their sympathies could quietly tilt toward those who want to weaken Israel's position. They might overlook weapons smuggling, allow tunnel networks to reemerge, or even provide cover for militants under the guise of "protecting civilians." This is not paranoia--it is the bitter lesson of decades past, where international monitors and agencies stationed in Gaza and the West Bank too often turned a blind eye to terror networks in their midst.

If the peacekeeping force becomes compromised, Israel would be forced to intervene again--undoing the entire purpose of the plan and putting Israeli soldiers back in harm's way. Worse, a failed peacekeeping mission would not just damage Israel's security; it would also delegitimize the very idea of international involvement, leaving Gaza trapped in a cycle of foreign failures and renewed conflict.

Yet Trump's push is not happening in a vacuum. In recent days, several Western nations, including the UK, Canada, and France, have moved to recognize a Palestinian state. European leaders are floating their own ideas for international oversight and reconstruction, with some calling for a United Nations-mandated force. In effect, there may soon be competing blueprints for Gaza's future: a U.S.-led, Arab-partnered plan versus a more Europe- and UN-driven approach that places greater emphasis on Palestinian sovereignty.

The stakes could not be higher. Gaza today lies in ruins, with hundreds of thousands displaced and infrastructure obliterated. Whoever takes responsibility for post-war governance will need not only legitimacy in the eyes of the Palestinian people but also the resources to rebuild. That means billions in funding, likely to come from Gulf states flush with oil revenues, along with support from international donors.

For Israel, the looming question is how much control it is willing to cede in exchange for international buy-in. For the Palestinians, the issue is whether any plan can deliver meaningful self-governance without being seen as an occupation by another name. And for the United States, the risk is becoming entangled in yet another Middle Eastern conflict--whether through direct troop involvement, financial burden, or political fallout if the plan fails.

So will American troops end up in Gaza? At this point, it seems unlikely. Trump appears determined to shift that burden to Arab and Muslim allies. But history offers a sobering lesson: multinational forces rarely succeed without strong U.S. backing. Even if American boots don't hit the ground, U.S. fingerprints will be all over whatever arrangement emerges.

In the end, this plan represents a gamble on regional partnership--a gamble that could either stabilize Gaza or plunge it into yet another cycle of chaos. For the average American, the outcome may feel distant, but the implications are very real: a redefined U.S. role in the Middle East, shifting alliances with Arab powers, and the possibility of a fragile peace that holds--or collapses. 

Trump is betting that this time, with Arab troops on the ground and Arab money rebuilding Gaza, the United States can reshape the conflict without paying the price in American lives. Whether that bet pays off, or backfires, will define not only the fate of Gaza but the credibility of American leadership in the region.