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 is simple in intention but complex in execution. It envisions a staged ceasefire tied to the release of all hostages, a phased Israeli withdrawal linked to verifiable benchmarks, the deployment of an international stabilization force, and governance reforms that transition Gaza toward a reconstituted Palestinian authority supported by technocrats. It concludes with a pathway—deliberately flexible in language—toward Palestinian self-determination and eventual statehood. For Hamas, the red lines are disarmament and exclusion from governance; for Israel, they are credible security guarantees and an avoidance of steps that appear to reward an armed adversary. Between these lines lies a narrow diplomatic corridor where progress must move swiftly or collapse under mistrust.
Hamas’s reaction is a tactical acceptance laced with strategic reservations. Its negotiators abroad signal readiness for a full hostage exchange and a willingness to cede administrative control to an interim Palestinian body, but they resist unconditional disarmament and permanent exclusion from politics. Inside Gaza, command structures are fractured; senior military cadres are depleted; field units operate semi-independently. Leaders willing to compromise must still gauge whether they can enforce any agreement among fighters radicalized by devastation and grief. Hence, the idea of surrendering heavy weapons to third-party custodians while retaining light arms as a “defensive dignity” measure—symbolically vital to Hamas but unacceptable to Israel without intrusive verification.
Israel’s stance is equally ambivalent. Strategically, the plan offers what Israel has long demanded: the return of hostages, demilitarization of Gaza, and an international mechanism to assume day-to-day responsibilities while blocking rearmament. Politically, however, it forces the ruling coalition to digest hard realities: staged withdrawals under international supervision, re-empowerment of a reformed Palestinian Authority, and text that implicitly gestures toward a future Palestinian state. For an Israeli leadership dominated by hard-liners, this feels like concessions under fire and risks coalition fracture. Hence, Jerusalem insists on strict benchmarks, real-time monitoring, and a conditional, performance-based path to statehood—not one dictated by dates.
Iran’s posture is obstructionist yet calculated. A low-intensity conflict serves its interest by keeping Israel and the U.S. occupied while Iran restores deterrence and influence. It will quietly encourage factions to brand disarmament as betrayal and redirect loyalty to splinter groups. Still, Tehran recognizes that a united Arab-Western front behind a ceasefire could shrink its diplomatic space. Expect it to question verification mechanisms and sovereignty provisions while retaining leverage through militant proxies capable of derailing peace at will.
Turkey, Qatar, and Egypt form the indispensable mediating triangle. Ankara frames Hamas’s partial acceptance as a “constructive step” and demands Israel halt military operations. Doha, central to past negotiations, supports the swap framework and advocates timelines that preserve face for both parties. Egypt, the gatekeeper of Rafah, emphasizes sequencing—ceasefire first, synchronized exchanges of hostages and prisoners, and gradual transfer of governance under Arab oversight. Their combined credibility will determine whether enforcement mechanisms succeed or unravel.
The Palestinian Authority welcomes the plan but insists that Gaza’s sovereignty lies with the State of Palestine, unified with the West Bank under one civil and security framework. Yet its legitimacy deficit is glaring. Reforms must be real—transparent appointments, credible policing, and efficient public services—to regain Gazan trust. Jordan and other Arab states condition their support on those very reforms and on tangible progress toward the two-state horizon.
Europe, the U.K., Canada, and other Western partners view the plan as the first viable diplomatic track in months. Their priorities converge: secure a ceasefire, free all hostages, restore humanitarian lifelines, and cautiously advance a two-state endgame. They will bankroll stabilization and reconstruction but only under strict oversight. France and Germany call it “the best chance for peace”; Spain and Ireland demand stronger civilian protections; EU institutions emphasize timelines and enforceable humanitarian guarantees.
Pakistan, Malaysia, and the wider Global South call the plan imperfect but necessary to end the siege and save lives. They urge a complete ceasefire, unrestricted aid access, and firm guarantees against annexation or forced displacement. Their support will be critical in lending legitimacy to any multinational peace force that must not appear Western-controlled.
Yet Trump’s plan, while pragmatic, misses a critical element: justice. Peace without accountability is fragile, and reconstruction funded by neutral donors ignores moral responsibility. It was Israel that unleashed overwhelming destruction—flattening neighborhoods, hospitals, schools, and mosques, killing thousands of civilians, and turning Gaza into ruins. Therefore, the financial and moral burden of rebuilding Gaza must not fall upon the Arab world or the international community, but squarely upon those who caused the devastation—Israel and its allies, principally the United States. They must finance reconstruction, compensate victims, and fund the restoration of homes, infrastructure, and livelihoods. Anything less would legitimize impunity and perpetuate the cycle of destruction.
Equally, Hamas cannot escape scrutiny for its October 7 attack that killed and abducted civilians. Justice must be even-handed: a transparent, international investigation under UN auspices should probe alleged war crimes, genocide, and ethnic cleansing by both Hamas and Israel. Those who ordered or executed attacks on civilians, destroyed civilian infrastructure, or used starvation and displacement as tools of war must face the law. Impunity—whether for militants or states—cannot coexist with lasting peace.
A just and sustainable settlement would thus require three compacts added to Trump’s architecture. First, a clarity compact—public, enforceable annexes specifying who verifies compliance, how violations are penalized, and when corrective mechanisms activate. Second, a sequencing compact—a 30-60-90 day ladder of actions tied to verifiable outcomes: immediate ceasefire and aid corridors; phased withdrawals; transfer of civil governance; and reconstruction monitored by auditors from neutral states. Third, a dignity compact—addressing not only arms but human dignity: mobility, jobs, municipal elections within a year, and a binding roadmap toward statehood linked to measurable governance performance.
To this must be added a justice compact—a moral and legal foundation ensuring accountability. An independent tribunal, perhaps modeled on the International Criminal Court but regionally backed, should document atrocities, assign blame, and impose reparations. This would transform peace from a political bargain into a moral restoration, proving that even in geopolitics, justice is not optional.
Arab and Western partners must move from mediation to stewardship—deploying peacekeepers, engineers, and funds not as charity, but as custodians of shared responsibility. Moreover, the reconstruction of Gaza must be sponsored and fully financed by Israel—the power that devastated those neighborhoods—and by any allies whose military or material support enabled that destruction. This is not punitive grandstanding; it is deterrence by consequence: any nation or actor that resorts to ethnic cleansing, mass starvation, or genocidal tactics must know it will bear the full financial, legal and moral costs of rebuilding, reparations, and accountability.
The alternative is a replay of history: more funerals, deeper resentment, and another generation growing amid rubble. Flexibility on process is not weakness; it is maturity. If disarmament becomes verifiable, withdrawal becomes milestone-driven, governance becomes transparent, and accountability becomes universal, then the guns can fall silent, Gaza can rebuild, and the Middle East can finally begin to heal.

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 : We begin with a prayer for sound judgment and for the protection of innocent lives: May those who hold the levers of power choose restraint over rashness, and may the suffering of ordinary families be spared the thunder of renewed war.
President Trump’s recent declaration that the United States “wants [Bagram] back” — and his warning that “bad things are going to happen” if the demand is not met — is not merely a rhetorical flourish. It is a public ultimatum aimed at a sovereign state now governed by a regime that has repeatedly insisted on its independence and territorial integrity. To speak of “getting it back” without acknowledging the scale of what that implies is to invite a darkness of consequence that cannot be measured simply in dollars or troop rotations.
This urgency — presented as if the cost could be traded away for strategic advantage — deserves a sober pause. Ask plainly: why, at this perilous moment, should the United States risk lives and treasure to re-establish control over a base it abandoned amid humiliation just four years ago? The calculus offered is blunt and chilling: the perceived need is to neutralize threats before they can reach Israel, to blunt Iranian influence that allegedly “barters” through Afghan soil, and to deter Pakistan’s conventional and nuclear capabilities from shaping the outcome of conflicts in the Middle East. That rationale, if true, places Israel’s security at the center of an American sacrifice that would demand fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers be risked abroad — a moral choice that must be argued openly, not imposed as an offhand strategic fait accompli. The president’s public boast that the base “belongs to those that built it” treats sovereignty like a ledger entry rather than a lived reality; it treats bodies and futures as collateral.
We should be brutally honest about the price. Bagram is not a symbolic hangar you re-enter with a small contingent; it was the logistical heart of a two-decade campaign — runways for the largest transports, detention facilities, hospitals, administrative complexes and entire life-support systems for tens of thousands of troops. The base was vacated during the chaotic U.S. withdrawal in July 2021; the departure remains a potent symbol of the limits of force and of the human cost of occupation. Any serious attempt to retake and hold Bagram would require a force posture that looks very much like re-invasion: large troop footprints, air defenses, long-term occupation forces and an open-ended commitment to secure supply lines against insurgents and regional spoilers. History warns that such ventures rarely end on the schedules or terms imagined by their planners.
Beyond the arithmetic of troops and treasure lies a web of regional dynamics that transform a tactical objective into a geopolitical tinderbox. China has quietly deepened its engagement with Kabul — courting mining contracts, infrastructure deals and incremental Belt-and-Road integration. Pakistan claims a deep strategic interest in Afghanistan; Iran watches its western neighbour for any shift that might threaten its influence; and a resurgent Taliban now trades in a complex mix of domestic control and international overtures. An American kinetic return to Bagram would not be an isolated operation; it would be a whiplash event that could provoke asymmetric retaliation from militant actors, diplomatic pushback from regional capitals, and a strategic confrontation with Beijing over the very infrastructure China is trying to build through soft power. The result would not be merely a regional skirmish; it would be a cascade of destabilising moves with human costs that ripple across borders.
There is also a moral dimension that many in Washington seem eager to elide. If the objective of recapturing Bagram is to create a buffer for Israel — then that aim must be debated openly in Congress and with the American public. Sacrificing American lives to serve another nation’s perceived buffer-zone preferences is a weighty judgment that should not be made in a propagandistic press moment. The American people deserve the facts, the alternatives, and the hard accounting of costs in blood and treasure before such a choice is made. To present threats in cinematic soundbites while concealing the true toll is a betrayal of democratic responsibility.
There is a better, more realistic path — and it is one the United States can actually afford both morally and strategically. Influence without occupation is not naïve; it is prudent. Jobs, roads, hospitals, schools and transparent investment frameworks win long-term leverage in fragile states far more effectively than boots do. Rather than threatening to seize territory, Washington should marshal humanitarian aid, underwrite infrastructure projects with strict governance and environmental protections, fund vocational training and support rule-of-law institutions that make communities resilient to extremist sway. Where extractive industries are concerned, revenue-sharing and oversight can reduce corruption and blunt local grievances that fuel insurgency. In short: rebuild with dignity, not coerce with force. Such an approach may be slower and less theatrical, but it matches moral legitimacy with strategic durability.
We must also confront the bitter irony: if the United States is prepared to pay any price to protect another country’s security ambitions, that willingness will be visible to regional powers and will seed resentment. It will feed narratives that the U.S. acts selectively, that American lives are expendable in service of foreign agendas, and that occupation is a policy tool rather than a last resort. Those narratives will be used by opponents to rally recruits and justify asymmetric attacks that will claim the very lives Washington professes to protect.
The choice facing Washington is, disturbingly, both strategic and moral. It can choose to replay the mistakes of the recent past — thunderous ultimatums, rushed deployments, and the false promise that territory can be held without hearts and minds — and thereby invite a long, painful entanglement whose costs are incalculable in mere budgets. Or it can choose to invest in reconstruction, partnerships and patient diplomacy that respect Afghan sovereignty and build durable influence. The latter requires humility, long-term funding commitments, and a willingness to measure success by human flourishing rather than by signage at a runway.
President Trump’s rhetoric — alternately promising peace and threatening occupation — sends the wrong signal to allies and adversaries alike. Tough talk may score at home; abroad it hardens resistance, rallies rivals, and complicates the very diplomacy Washington will need if it truly seeks influence in South and Central Asia. The moral urgency here is not merely about strategy; it is about responsibility to the families who will bear the cost if the sirens call of occupation is answered.
Let us end where we began: with a prayer for restraint, for wisdom, and for leaders who place human life before spectacle. The path that leads through reconstruction, coalition-building and respect for sovereignty is harder, less glamorous and slower — but it is the path that will spare the greatest number of lives and build a legacy worth defending. If America is to remain influential in a changing region, it must learn the hard lesson of Bagram: boots can seize terrain, but they cannot buy the consent that makes security last.

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 : The United States has once again entered a government shutdown, now in its third day, revealing both the fragility of its political system and the deep divisions between its ruling parties. For many Americans, the words “government shutdown” have become all too familiar, yet the implications remain complex and far-reaching. At its core, a shutdown occurs when Congress and the Senate fail to pass the necessary appropriations bills or a temporary funding measure known as a continuing resolution. Without legal authorization to spend money, vast swathes of the federal government grind to a halt, forcing hundreds of thousands of employees to be furloughed and others to work without pay. Essential services such as national security, law enforcement, and emergency medical care continue, but much of the rest—from processing tax returns to administering housing loans and maintaining national parks—comes to an abrupt pause.
The 2025 shutdown reflects not merely a budgeting dispute but a much larger clash of ideology and power. The immediate failure lies in Congress and the Senate’s inability to agree on a funding bill, but beneath that deadlock are deeper political contentions. Republicans, emboldened by President Donald Trump’s second term, have sought to tie spending approval to major policy demands. Among these are stricter border enforcement, deeper cuts to healthcare and social welfare programs, and renewed emphasis on energy independence through expanded oil and coal production. Democrats, meanwhile, insist on safeguarding Medicaid, Social Security, and green energy programs, while opposing what they see as reckless deregulation and authoritarian executive maneuvers. Both chambers are digging in, each claiming to defend the true interests of the American people, and the result is paralysis.
The contentious issues at the heart of this impasse are both economic and ideological. Healthcare remains one of the most explosive flashpoints, with Democrats accusing Republicans of trying to hollow out safety nets for the poor and elderly under the guise of fiscal responsibility. Immigration is another wedge issue: Trump has demanded increased funding for a fortified border system and deportation enforcement, positioning it as central to his “America First” agenda. Democrats counter that this amounts to cruelty and political theater, especially in the wake of unrest tied to immigration enforcement raids earlier this year. Climate and energy policy further complicate negotiations. Trump and his allies are determined to revive coal and oil drilling projects and reduce federal funding for renewable energy initiatives, while Democrats argue that reversing progress on climate goals would undermine both domestic innovation and international credibility.
In this standoff, both sides see political advantage. For Trump, the shutdown is an opportunity to reassert control and demonstrate strength. He portrays himself as a leader willing to withstand temporary pain for long-term national gain, casting the Democrats as obstructionists who prioritize ideology over patriotism.
For Democrats, the shutdown is also a weapon. They seek to paint Trump and the Republican majority as reckless extremists holding the country hostage for narrow political goals. By emphasizing the plight of unpaid federal workers, the closure of public services, and the disruption of families dependent on government programs, they aim to turn public opinion against Trump’s hardline tactics. Democrats calculate that the longer the shutdown lasts, the more ordinary Americans will grow frustrated and direct their anger at the White House, especially if essential services remain shuttered and the economy begins to slow.
The consequences, however, extend far beyond political point-scoring. For federal employees, a shutdown means immediate uncertainty and financial hardship. While history suggests that workers will eventually receive back pay, the delay leaves families struggling with mortgages, bills, and groceries. For contractors and businesses that rely on federal work, lost time is often never recovered. Consumer sentiment, already fragile in a climate of high tariffs and fluctuating prices, can sour further as Americans begin to feel the tangible impact of a government that appears unable to govern. The longer the shutdown drags on, the more anxious investors and households become, creating ripple effects that slow spending and investment across the economy.
Business confidence is equally shaken. In times of shutdown, routine government functions like issuing licenses, inspecting food safety, approving loans, and releasing economic data are suspended. For companies dependent on regulatory approvals or federal contracts, projects stall, costs rise, and uncertainty prevails. Global investors watch nervously as Washington broadcasts dysfunction to the world.
Relations with other countries also suffer. Diplomats find their budgets curtailed, international aid programs stall, and negotiations lose credibility when foreign leaders know the American government is paralyzed at home. For allies, the message is troubling: if Washington cannot manage its own internal disagreements, can it really lead global coalitions or enforce international agreements? For rivals, the spectacle offers propaganda material, reinforcing the narrative that American democracy is chaotic and incapable of coherent policy.
The economic cost of the current impasse grows with each passing day. Analysts estimate that the economy loses billions of dollars per week in output during a shutdown. Small businesses waiting for federal loans, infrastructure projects awaiting funding, and families dependent on childcare or nutrition programs all experience disruptions.
The longer-term damage may be even more significant. Confidence in institutions erodes with every shutdown, feeding public cynicism and polarization. When citizens watch politicians bicker while services collapse, trust in democracy itself weakens. The spectacle convinces Americans that partisan victory has become more important to leaders than effective governance. This erosion of trust threatens the fabric of civic life and makes compromise ever harder to achieve in the future. Beyond its borders, the United States risks diminishing its image as the global standard-bearer of democratic stability.
Ultimately, the current shutdown is not just about a budget but about two competing visions of America. One seeks a leaner government, tighter borders, and renewed emphasis on national sovereignty, even at the cost of disruption. The other envisions an inclusive, service-oriented state that maintains a global leadership role and invests in future generations.
The shutdown will eventually end, as they always do, through compromise or exhaustion. Yet the scars it leaves behind—in lost income, shaken confidence, delayed projects, and frayed international credibility—will linger. What remains most troubling is that shutdowns are no longer rare accidents but recurring episodes in American political life, symptomatic of deeper dysfunction. Unless the nation’s leaders rediscover the will to compromise, each new budget cycle risks becoming another crisis, another shutdown, and another reminder to the world that the American system, once admired for its resilience, now struggles under the weight of its own divisions.