The cheers in Hostages Square were raw, unfiltered less celebration than release. Twenty Israeli captives, freed under the first phase of a U.S.-brokered ceasefire agreement with Hamas, were home. Across Gaza’s shattered border, Israel began releasing Palestinian prisoners in return. President Donald Trump landed in Jerusalem Monday not as a visitor, but as a self-styled architect of what he called “the historic dawn of a new Middle East.” Yet beneath the fanfare red “Trump, The Peace President” hats in the Knesset gallery, military bands on the tarmac the reality remained tenuous. Much of Gaza lies in ruins. Famine grips parts of the territory. And the war’s final chapter governance, disarmament, reconstruction has not yet been written.
Standing before Israeli lawmakers—the first U.S. president to address the Knesset since George W. Bush in 2008 Trump declared that “Israel has won all that can be won by force of arms.” His message was clear: the battlefield victories against Hamas and Hezbollah, backed by his administration, had created a rare opening. Now, he insisted, it was time to trade military gains for lasting peace. The White House confirmed that over two dozen leaders would join Trump and Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sissi in Sharm el-Sheikh for a summit aimed at locking in the truce and reshaping regional alliances. Arab and Muslim states, long wary of overt normalization with Israel, are reportedly showing renewed interest in resolving the broader Israeli-Palestinian conflict a shift Trump credits to his hardline stance against Iranian proxies.
But even as Trump told reporters aboard Air Force One, “The war is over, OK?” the ground told a more complicated story. The ceasefire’s first phase mandates the release of the remaining 48 hostages, hundreds more Palestinian prisoners, a surge of humanitarian aid, and a partial Israeli troop withdrawal from Gaza’s cities. Implementation has just begun. Israel has reopened five border crossings a lifeline for a population where famine looms but reconstruction remains a distant dream. “I don’t know about the Riviera for a while,” Trump admitted, referencing his earlier vision of a rebuilt Gaza as “the Riviera of the Middle East.” Now, he said, it’s “like a demolition site.”
In Tel Aviv, families clutched photos and sobbed as buses carrying freed hostages rolled in. At Sheba Medical Center, where Trump planned to meet some of the survivors, the air was thick with exhaustion and disbelief. Meanwhile, in Gaza, the first trucks of food and medicine crossed reopened checkpoints, offering a sliver of relief to 2 million people living amid rubble. The U.S. will deploy roughly 200 troops to help monitor the ceasefire alongside partner nations and NGOs a small but symbolic presence in a landscape where trust is scarce. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who greeted Trump on the tarmac alongside President Isaac Herzog, faces mounting pressure at home to secure the remaining hostages while resisting calls to fully withdraw from Gaza.
Trump believes the moment is ripe because “people are tired of it” a sentiment echoing from Tel Aviv to Cairo. His administration’s strategy hinges on leveraging military success to force diplomatic breakthroughs. In his Knesset speech, he even extended an olive branch to Iran, saying “the hand of friendship and cooperation is always open,” despite their brief war earlier this year. Egypt, a key mediator, will host the upcoming summit where the fate of postwar Gaza will be debated. But critical issues remain unresolved: who governs Gaza, how Hamas disarms, and whether reconstruction can begin without reigniting violence. Israel has warned it may resume operations if its demands aren’t met. The ceasefire, for now, holds but it’s balanced on a knife’s edge.
Trump’s visit is steeped in symbolism: Israel and Egypt plan to award him their highest civilian honors. Yet the true test won’t be in speeches or medals it will be in whether aid reaches starving families, whether the last hostages walk free, and whether the guns stay silent long enough for trust to grow. The U.S. sees this as a chance to reset decades of fractured relations, but the region has seen false dawns before. What makes this moment different is the sheer exhaustion on all sides and the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, peace is no longer a fantasy but a necessity.
Two years of war have left scars too deep for any single handshake to heal. The ceasefire is not peace it’s a pause, a breath, a chance. Trump may call it a “historic dawn,” but for the people of Gaza and Israel, history is measured in meals delivered, children returned, and nights without explosions. The summit in Sharm el-Sheikh could solidify this truce or expose its fault lines. One thing is certain: the world is watching, not for grand pronouncements, but for quiet acts of courage. Peace begins not with a declaration, but with a door left open.
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