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 : 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.

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 Nations General Assembly this year became the stage for one of the most dramatic reversals of American diplomatic influence in modern memory. Sponsored jointly by Saudi Arabia and France, the extraordinary emergency conference convened to debate Israel’s naked, blatant, and cruel aggression on Gaza and the West Bank. For decades, the United States, with its vast economic, military, and diplomatic clout, had compelled nations to fall in line—whether by promises of aid, threats of sanctions, or pressure through investment and trade. But this time, before the eyes of the world, Washington’s narrative failed.
The global mood was unmistakable. Israel’s policies of ethnic cleansing, occupation, and near-genocidal assault on the Palestinian people were denounced with unprecedented unity. Trump, standing at the podium, echoed Benjamin Netanyahu’s language of “security” and “self-defense,” but those words fell flat. What was once the unchallenged script for Western allies now sounded hollow, archaic, and dangerous. Far from rallying behind the United States, the overwhelming majority of nations broke away, defiantly recognizing Palestine as a sovereign state and announcing they would deal with it directly in bilateral and multilateral forums. This was not only a symbolic rebuke but also a practical shift: future investment, aid, and diplomatic engagement would now flow through Palestinian authorities, bypassing Israel.
What made the session even more remarkable was that not a single major leader spoke in favor of the United States or Israel. From Brazil’s Lula da Silva to Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, from Jordan’s King Abdullah II to France’s Emmanuel Macron, from Australia’s Anthony Albanese to Britain’s Keir Starmer, from Canada’s Mark Carney to South Africa’s Cyril Ramaphosa, and from South Korea’s Lee Jae-myung to leaders across Asia, Africa, and Latin America—the verdict was universal. Israel’s narrative, supported and promoted by Trump, had collapsed. The applause in the chamber made clear that the United States, for the first time in UN history, stood alone.
Trump did not hide his contempt. He lashed out not only at the leaders present but at the institution itself. Climate change, he declared, was the “greatest con job in history,” dismissing decades of scientific evidence on rising seas, melting glaciers, intensifying hurricanes, and the planetary threat of unchecked emissions. Gasps rippled through the assembly as he accused the UN of peddling fear and lies. He mocked international agreements on climate, insisting that America would burn coal, drill oil, and expand nuclear power without apology. To many, it was more than denial—it was an open invitation to environmental catastrophe.
Nor did Trump stop at Gaza or climate change. He derided the United Nations as useless, ineffective, and irrelevant. He promised to pull U.S. representatives out of key agencies, and he vowed to slash funding—funding that, for decades, Washington had leveraged as its ultimate instrument of control. But instead of weakening the UN, Trump’s threat spurred others into action. Within hours, China, the European Union, and several emerging economies pledged to fill the financial gap, signaling that they would seize the leadership America was relinquishing. It was a symbolic passing of the torch: power, influence, and responsibility were no longer to be monopolized by Washington.
For Trump, the United States remained the indispensable nation. He warned that no country could survive without its blessing, invoking America’s military might and economic reach. Yet his words rang hollow against the backdrop of near-total isolation. In the past, weaker nations might have bowed to U.S. pressure, clinging to trade deals or fearing the loss of aid. But now, emboldened by collective strength, they no longer needed to. The unifying cause of Palestine’s recognition had given the world a new confidence. America’s threats sounded less like the dictates of a superpower and more like the frustrated cries of a bully whose grip was slipping.
This shift was not sudden; it was the culmination of years of resentment. Trump’s doctrine of “America First” had alienated allies, embittered partners, and emboldened adversaries. By weaponizing tariffs, sanctioning friend and foe alike, and dismantling international agreements, Washington had eroded the very leverage it once wielded. Countries that once tolerated American dominance out of necessity now saw little reason to comply. As one European delegate noted privately, “When the U.S. withdraws, others rush in. They may have forgotten, but we have not.”
The recognition of Palestine marked a decisive moment. It was not simply a diplomatic statement; it was a strategic realignment. Humanitarian aid would bypass Israel. Sanctions would be imposed directly on Tel Aviv. Military sales would be withheld. Pension funds and sovereign wealth investments would be divested. These measures, adopted with overwhelming consensus, marked the first time Israel faced comprehensive, global punitive action. For decades, its occupation had been shielded by U.S. vetoes and Western complicity. Now, the shield was shattered.
Trump, furious, accused the assembly of hypocrisy and cowardice. He mocked the idea of collective will, insisting that only the United States could lead. But the chamber had already moved on. Leaders from every continent had made clear that the era of American dictates was over. The collective will of nations would no longer bow to one country’s interest. The loudest message of the day was not in the words of presidents or prime ministers but in the silence that followed Trump’s speech—an emptiness where once applause would have echoed.
Perhaps the greatest irony is that America’s own power remains immense. Militarily, economically, technologically, it still towers over much of the world. But power without legitimacy is fragile. Influence without trust is fleeting. Respect cannot be commanded by force alone. Those nations that are weak or dependent may still flatter America out of fear, but those that are strong from within—confident, stable, and united—see no reason to follow. They do not mistake America’s bluster for leadership.
What was witnessed at the UNGA was not just a rejection of a speech; it was the exposure of a failing doctrine. The belief that America could dictate terms, ignore science, crush weaker nations, and shield Israel indefinitely has collapsed. The world has spoken, not in whispers but in unison, and it has chosen a different path—one of defiance against aggression, of recognition for Palestine, of collective resistance to unilateralism.
The United States, under Trump, has forgotten the wisdom of humility, gratitude, and forgiveness. A truly strong nation does not alienate the world; it unites it. A truly great power does not cling to dominance; it earns respect through fairness and justice. By abandoning these principles, America has not only lost leverage but has endangered its own place in history. The verdict from the UN General Assembly is clear: the world will no longer be dictated to by a single power, no matter how mighty. The future will be shaped not by one nation’s arrogance but by the collective will of many.