The American "Peace" Council… The Return of the High Commissioner with a New Face

With the announcement from the White House regarding the formation of what is called the "Peace Council," Palestine does not seem to be approaching a historical settlement as much as it faces a new phase of managing the conflict with different tools. The very name and the names being circulated – particularly the title of High Commissioner for Gaza with the name Nikolai Mladenov being mentioned – evokes more terror than concern and immediately brings to mind one of the darkest stages in Palestinian history: the British Mandate over Palestine.

When Herbert Samuel entered Palestine as the first High Commissioner, representing the British Empire and the "civilized world," the slogan was to assist Palestinians in building a modern state after Ottoman rule. However, that era ended with the Nakba in 1948, which saw more than two-thirds of the Palestinian people displaced from their land. This comparison is not emotional, but rather a political reading of a logic that renews itself: guardianship in the name of peace.

We are not advocates of saying that history repeats itself literally, but the essence of the Zionist project remains unchanged: control over the land, dismantling of Palestinian society, and managing Palestinians through force or various forms of political and economic coercion. The only new elements are the language used, the tools, and the political masks.

In this context, the "Peace Council" cannot be separated from its role as an American-Israeli tool for managing the post-war phase in Gaza, not with the aim of ending the occupation, but rather reshaping it. The council does not rely on international legitimacy or Security Council resolutions regarding Gaza; instead, it constitutes a political circumvention of them by stripping the region of its Palestinian national context and turning it into an administrative-security file without sovereignty or real national representation.

Recent satellite images reveal that Gaza, three months after the announcement of the ceasefire, is not moving towards reconstruction or a stable truce, but rather towards re-engineering control over the land. The most dangerous of these transformations is what is known as the "yellow line," which has shifted from a temporary security measure to a de facto border within the sector.

The positioning of the Israeli army along this line and its encroachment hundreds of meters inside reflects a redefinition of the occupation state's concept of withdrawal: not a withdrawal from occupation, but a tighter repositioning. The Chief of Staff of the Israeli army described this line as "Israel's new border," which is not a passing description but a clear political-military declaration aimed at controlling about 58% of Gaza's area, while imposing fire and visual surveillance on its demographic depth.

Despite the announced ceasefire, demolition operations continue, particularly in Jabalia and the Shujaiya neighborhood, including areas located west of the declared line. This contradiction reveals that the ceasefire does not mean a halt to the changing reality, but rather imposes it quietly through a policy of silent creeping, which expands control without official announcement and at a lower political cost.

In contrast, the Israeli army has established more than 13 new military sites within the sector, some overlooking vast areas of northern Gaza, while tens of thousands of families are pushed into tent cities and temporary housing complexes. The scene encapsulates the equation of the phase: militarization of the land on one hand, and managing society through relief rather than political solutions on the other.

Any American talk about a "second phase" of the Trump plan or about housing "residents not linked to Hamas" in areas under Israeli control does not stray from the logic of demographic and political engineering, and an attempt to produce a new social reality under Israeli security oversight, not under Palestinian sovereignty.

In light of this dangerous trajectory, the demands become clear: to reorder the Palestinian house on a unifying national basis that safeguards the unity of Palestinian identity and prevents turning the division into an entry point for reproducing guardianship. Strengthening the steadfastness of Palestinians on their land is not just a slogan but actual policies that ensure livelihoods and prevent the transformation of temporary displacement into a permanent reality. There is a necessity to refuse to reduce the issue to just its humanitarian aspect and to defend its political and national dimensions as the essence of the conflict.

Despite the harsh scene, hope remains. The Palestinian people have proven, through decades of calamities and ongoing aggression, their ability to rise again and rebuild, holding on to their land and identity despite all attempts at uprooting. This hope is not a romantic slogan but is derived from a long historical experience and a collective awareness that recognizes that true peace cannot be imposed by force or managed by guardianship, but must be built on the foundations of freedom and justice.

What is happening today is not a path to peace, but a reproduction of the occupation with new tools. Between maps of control and maps of misery, the real bet remains on the Palestinian people: their steadfastness, their ability to reorganize themselves, and their determination to assert their future, not to be subjects.