Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : President Trump’s Gaza Peace Plan has reached a critical moment. Both Israel and Hamas accepted it in principle, but both have already begun to test its limits. The ceasefire meant to stop the killing, the exchange of hostages meant to build trust, and the delivery of humanitarian aid meant to heal the wounds of war are all being delayed or distorted. The President has warned that time is running out, declaring with characteristic clarity that “time is of the essence, or massive bloodshed will follow.” His words now hang like a warning over every side that tries to play for advantage rather than peace.
In Gaza, the ceasefire has not brought calm. Instead of an unconditional pause to allow food, medicine, and relief into a starving land, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has linked every lull in fighting to the verified release of hostages. The sequence has been reversed: where aid was meant to come first, it is now held hostage to conditions. Even as Trump praised Israel’s “temporary halt” in bombing, the silence of the skies did not last long. The roar of jets and the thud of artillery soon returned. Crossings remain sealed, fuel is scarce, and trucks carrying flour and medicine are stuck behind barriers. The people of Gaza, already broken by war, are paying the price for a strategy that treats compassion as a bargaining chip.
Netanyahu’s government has also delayed the promised troop withdrawal. Instead of pulling back as the plan demands, Israeli forces have dug deeper into Gaza, creating buffer zones that extend control rather than reduce it. The plan called for a military drawdown in parallel with the arrival of international monitors. Yet what the world now sees looks less like withdrawal and more like consolidation. Within Israel’s ruling coalition, many regard the peace plan not as a step toward stability, but as a threat to years of expansionist ambition. A genuine truce, they fear, would force Israel to retreat from its newly secured zones, halt settlements, and eventually open the door to a Palestinian state — a vision utterly at odds with the idea of a “Greater Israel.”
Hamas, meanwhile, plays its own dangerous game. It has released some hostages but not all, offering gestures instead of commitments. It resists international monitoring and refuses to disarm fully, keeping its weapons hidden beneath Gaza’s ruins. Divided between its political negotiators abroad and its commanders trapped underground, Hamas sends mixed signals — one hand extended toward negotiation, the other still gripping a gun. Yet beneath the defiance lies exhaustion. Two years of relentless bombardment have shattered its infrastructure and leadership. The choice before it is stark: accept the peace plan as a path to survival or risk total annihilation. For Hamas, which has lost much of its command structure and morale, the plan offers a narrow corridor of escape, perhaps the last chance to save what remains of its movement and people.
In this sense, Israel and Hamas now stand on opposite slopes of the same mountain. Netanyahu fears that the peace plan could undo his long-cherished project of permanent dominance, while Hamas sees in it a possible lifeline. The plan’s success could mean the end of Israeli expansionism, the slowing of settlements, and the creation of a monitored Palestinian administration under international supervision — outcomes that threaten Israel’s far-right coalition. For Hamas, by contrast, successful implementation could spare its fighters from destruction and allow a gradual political reintegration through regional diplomacy. If Israel’s fear is loss of territory, Hamas’s fear is extinction.
Amid these conflicting motives stands Donald Trump, the architect of the plan and now its enforcer. He has been watching both sides closely, issuing warnings with unmistakable urgency. “Move fast,” he insists, “or massive bloodshed will follow.” He has reminded Netanyahu that the continuation of bombing could endanger U.S. strategic ties and warned Hamas that renewed attacks will bring devastating consequences. Unlike the peace brokers of the past, Trump has tied his own credibility to the plan’s survival, using both American influence and global pressure to hold the sides accountable.
The upcoming Monday meeting in Egypt will test whether this vigilance can translate into progress. Representatives from Israel, Hamas, and regional partners will gather to confirm whether the ceasefire is real, whether hostages and prisoners are being exchanged according to schedule, and whether humanitarian routes are open. If these benchmarks are met, the second phase will begin: Israeli withdrawal, deployment of international monitors, and establishment of a temporary technocratic administration in Gaza. If not, Trump may use economic and diplomatic pressure to penalize non-compliance, while Arab states may withhold reconstruction funding until good faith is proven. It will be a day that decides whether peace takes a step forward or collapses into another round of blame and bloodshed.
Yet the danger looms that if the plan fails, Israel will swiftly point the finger at Hamas and resume full-scale military operations. Its goal would be not just to defeat Hamas but to eliminate it completely, take permanent control of Gaza and the West Bank, and then pursue a broader territorial expansion toward the east. Such a move would plunge the entire region into crisis. The United Nations, the United States, and the Muslim world must remain alert to this possibility. No violation, no provocation, no act of resistance from the Palestinian side should provide Israel with the excuse it seeks to dismantle the plan. The world must make clear that the true spoiler of peace will not be allowed to hide behind false accusations.
If this truth reaches Washington, if the American Congress and public come to see that it is Israel — not Hamas — undermining the process, the political ground beneath Tel Aviv could shift. The U.S. might then be compelled to reconsider its unconditional aid and arms support, leaving Israel exposed to the isolation it fears most. Without American protection, Israel would face immense pressure from every direction — diplomatic, economic, and potentially military. The recent Iranian strike demonstrated the limits of Israeli power when left on its own. Should the wider Muslim world act in unison, Israel would have no choice but to retreat to its recognized borders and accept the peace it has long resisted.
The stakes are immense. For the Arab world, the peace plan offers a way to stabilize the region; for Europe, a chance to reclaim moral credibility; and for America, an opportunity to prove that fairness, not favoritism, defines its leadership. But if this chance is lost — if the plan is sabotaged through arrogance or deceit — the result will not simply be another failed negotiation, but the end of the last viable hope for Gaza’s survival. In the days ahead, compliance and defiance will determine not only the future of two peoples, but the credibility of the global order itself.
History will judge those who let this moment slip away. If Israel and Hamas honor their commitments, Gaza may rise from its ruins. If they continue to play for time, the window will close, and with it, the dream of peace. President Trump’s warning still echoes across the desert skies: time is short, and the blood of the innocent is running out. The world must decide — will it stand guard over peace, or watch it die?

Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : They said humanity would stand by while Gaza was starved. They said states would avert their eyes as children cried for bread and water. Yet when Muslim governments folded, when Western nations chose silence, and when the United Nations looked on powerless, civil society — that stubborn conscience of the world — took up the mantle. In this desperate week of insensitivity and inability, ordinary men and women filled the vacuum left by governments, setting sail with aid that should have been delivered through corridors of diplomacy and justice.
Thus emerged the Global Sumud Flotilla, a fleet of resolve as much as vessels, charting a dangerous course across the Mediterranean. Some fifty small ships and boats, crewed by activists, lawyers, journalists, parliamentarians, and volunteers from over forty countries, embarked on a mission larger than their holds. They carried roughly a hundred tons of food, medical supplies, and water, but above all they carried the moral weight of seven billion people whose red blood still insists that dignity and survival are not negotiable.
Israel had not expected such defiance from civil society. Used to intimidating states and dictating conditions, it now faced fragile ships bearing the courage of the people. Almost immediately, the flotilla was harassed. Off Greek waters, drones swooped low; explosions and stun devices rattled decks, activists claimed. In Tunisia, a fire consumed a key aid boat, which organizers blamed on a drone strike though authorities denied it. Mechanical breakdowns added to the peril — one vessel, the Family Boat, suffered catastrophic failure and lagged behind. Yet despite disruption and fear, the flotilla pressed forward. Their blood was red, their purpose unwavering, and no intimidation could deter them.
As the convoy pushed closer to Gaza, the unexpected happened: two European governments decided to stand visibly with it. Spain ordered a naval ship from Cartagena to monitor and assist the flotilla, declaring that the aid boats posed “no threat to Israel.” Italy, condemning the drone attacks as “intolerable,” dispatched a frigate to protect its nationals onboard and signaled its support for a humanitarian sea corridor. Their escorts are not overwhelming fleets, but their symbolism looms large. For the first time in years, EU states placed themselves — even cautiously — between Israel’s blockade and the conscience of the world.
Yet symbolism alone cannot carry the weight of a humanitarian crisis. Now is the moment for powerful states that still possess diplomatic and kinetic leverage — Turkey, Saudi Arabia, China, France, Germany, the United Kingdom, Pakistan and others — to move beyond statements and commit real protection and logistical support. If these nations deploy naval escorts, open safe corridors, offer port facilities, and use every lawful means at their disposal to protect civilian ships, the flotilla’s mission could be made safer and the principle of saving lives reinforced. Such collective resolve would signal that the world’s conscience is not merely rhetorical but backed by governments willing to defend humanitarian action.
Israel’s response has been unyielding. Foreign Minister Gideon Saar warned in stark terms that Gaza’s coastal waters are a “combat zone” and that no ship will be allowed to enter. Officials insist that if aid is genuine, it should be offloaded at Ashkelon port, under Israeli control, from where Israel promises to transfer it into Gaza. Yet the promise rings hollow: for months Israel has restricted and slowed aid to a trickle, starving civilians under siege. For the flotilla, docking at Ashkelon would betray the very principle of their voyage — delivering aid directly to the starving without Israel’s interference. The organizers have therefore refused.
Now the confrontation nears its climax. The flotilla lies a few hundred nautical miles from Gaza, with organizers estimating arrival within days. Israeli naval forces are reportedly mobilized to intercept them, echoing the bloody precedent of 2010 when a raid on the Mavi Marmara left activists dead and the world in uproar. The fear is palpable that history could repeat itself, that once more peaceful civilians will meet armed commandos in international waters.
But whether or not the ships succeed in reaching Gaza’s shore, the symbolic victory is already secured. This flotilla embodies the conscience abandoned by states. It represents the mothers in Europe, the students in Asia, the workers in Africa, the citizens of the United States — all who see starvation as an abomination and refuse to reduce Palestinian survival to a bargaining chip. By taking the risk states would not, the Global Sumud Flotilla has already pierced the blockade of indifference.
And yet the test is cruelly real. On one side, determined civilians sail with supplies of life. On the other, a powerful military insists they must be stopped. Between them lies not only the fate of cargo, but the very question of whether humanity still has meaning in the face of brute force. If Israel crushes the flotilla, it will deepen the stain already seared onto its name: the deliberate starvation of two million souls. If the flotilla prevails, it will write a chapter where people, not governments, rose to redeem humanity.
This is no longer about tonnage of aid. It is about moral freight. It is about whether law serves power or whether it can still protect the powerless. It is about whether the hunger of children can outweigh the pride of armies. And as the boats draw closer to Gaza, the world is forced into its own reckoning: stand with humanity, or stand aside as cruelty sails unhindered.
Let us hope, in these decisive hours, that the flotilla prevails. Let us hope that the dignity of human life triumphs over siege, that courage outweighs cruelty, and that the Mediterranean does not become yet another graveyard of hope. For in these boats, humanity itself is on board. And history will judge not only what becomes of them, but what becomes of us all.

Paris (Imran Y. CHOUDHRY) :- Former Press Secretary to the President, Former Press Minister to the Embassy of Pakistan to France, Former MD, SRBC Mr. Qamar Bashir analysis : On August 3, 2025, the Belgian Air Force conducted a humanitarian act that reverberated far beyond the skies of Gaza. In coordination with Jordan, Belgium airdropped 15 tonnes of urgently needed food and medical supplies to the besieged Palestinian territory, followed by another 16 tonnes the next day. This was not a routine delivery, nor a symbolic gesture wrapped in diplomatic language. It was a deliberate and defiant intervention into one of the most militarized and politically contentious airspaces on earth—controlled by Israel and monitored by the United States.
Until this moment, humanitarian aid into Gaza was often paralyzed by bureaucracy, stalled at Israeli-controlled checkpoints, or denied outright under the pretext of security. Belgium changed that narrative. Operating through Jordan’s logistical support but acting on its own sovereign judgment, it broke a decades-old deadlock. In doing so, it risked not only its aircraft but its diplomatic credibility, confronting two global powers that have maintained a tight grip over any movement into or out of the Palestinian enclave.
What followed was equally remarkable. Belgium’s courage ignited a wave of international solidarity. France soon launched its own airdrops, delivering more than 40 tonnes of supplies. Spain, Germany, and Italy committed to logistical and material support. Canada conducted its own airdrop, independently delivering 21,600 pounds of food and medical cargo. Jordan, Egypt, and the United Arab Emirates served as regional facilitators. The United Kingdom publicly announced its intention to follow suit, while Saudi Arabia began preparing for participation. In total, more than a dozen countries are either actively engaged in the operation or finalizing their plans.
Unlike previous gestures of concern, these acts are concrete. They do not depend on negotiated corridors or Israel’s discretionary approval. These are real packages of food and medicine dropped into a war zone without diplomatic clearance from Tel Aviv or Washington. They signal a moral awakening and a tectonic shift in how global powers respond to humanitarian crises under occupation.
For decades, Israel has claimed that unauthorized deliveries into Gaza violate its sovereignty. The United States has echoed that sentiment, shielding Israel from international accountability. But with Belgium and other European democracies taking independent action, that consensus is fracturing. The long-standing Israeli-American control over humanitarian access is being directly challenged—not with resolutions or rhetorical statements, but with aircraft and parachutes.
Even within the United States, signs of dissent are emerging. Public frustration is mounting as Americans question why their tax dollars fund weapons but not food. Congress, typically unified in approving military aid to Israel, is now confronted by images of European nations acting with the kind of moral clarity once associated with the U.S. itself.
The implications are profound. Once humanitarian aid becomes unstoppable, the siege itself becomes indefensible. As more nations bypass traditional channels and deliver relief directly, Israel’s blockade narrative loses legitimacy. Likewise, the United States finds itself increasingly isolated—continuing to defend an ally accused of systematic war crimes while its own reputation as a defender of international law continues to erode.
And yet, the most glaring absence remains the Islamic world.
While Muslim-majority nations have issued strong verbal condemnations and convened emergency meetings, few have matched Belgium’s direct action. It is a painful paradox that Christian-majority countries like Belgium, France, and Spain have taken the lead in delivering life-saving aid to starving Muslim civilians. Their planes reached Gaza’s skies before many Muslim leaders could even finalize their joint communiqués.
But it is not too late for the Muslim world to assert its relevance. A unified humanitarian airlift—coordinated among Türkiye, Pakistan, Indonesia, Malaysia, Qatar, and Egypt—could amplify the momentum initiated by Belgium. Simultaneously, Muslim countries could introduce targeted economic sanctions against both Israel and the United States until a ceasefire is implemented and the blockade is lifted.
The numbers are compelling. According to 2024 trade data, Muslim countries imported approximately $290 billion in goods and services from the United States and $23 billion from Israel. In return, they exported roughly $190 billion to the U.S. and $15 billion to Israel. That translates to a total bilateral trade volume of $480 billion with the United States and $38 billion with Israel. Even a partial embargo on strategic goods—oil, consumer products, or financial services—could produce seismic pressure. Reallocating trade toward nations supporting humanitarian initiatives would not only reward ethical diplomacy but also establish new global economic alliances rooted in justice.
Such measures could be complemented with preferential trade agreements. Belgium, for example, could be granted Most Favored Nation (MFN) status among Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC) member states. Similar incentives could be offered to France, Spain, and any country demonstrating moral courage in the face of international inertia.
What Belgium has demonstrated is that one does not need to be a superpower to be a leader. By defying silence and cowardice, it reminded the world that aid does not require authorization when people are starving. It showed that neutrality in the face of oppression is complicity. And most importantly, it proved that humanity can still pierce through the clouds of political paralysis.
The West may label its ongoing military support to Israel as strategy, but history will remember it as sanctioned cruelty. No child dying from hunger is a combatant. No woman in a bombed-out hospital is a threat to national security. The slow starvation of civilians is not collateral damage—it is deliberate and systematic.
In a moment where domination has become policy, Belgium chose dignity. In skies long filled with drones, it dropped bread. In an arena shaped by fear, it delivered courage.
The time for statements is over. The time for action is now. History will ask: who came when Gaza starved? And Belgium will answer: we did.