Could Trump’s extreme rhetoric deliver a wider peace? It’s not impossible

For decades, US policy on the Israeli-Arab/Palestinian conflict has hinged on detailed peace plans built on conventional diplomacy. Not so with Donald Trump. His approach is transactional, prioritising leverage over meticulous blueprints. The Abraham Accords were not the result of a grand strategy but rather a series of ad hoc trade-offs: Netanyahu shelved annexation in exchange for UAE normalisation; Morocco gained US recognition of Western Sahara in return for ties with Israel. These precedents are key to understanding Trump’s latest vision for Gaza.

Trump has three stated objectives related to Gaza: a ceasefire and the return of all hostages, the extension of the Abraham Accords to include Saudi Arabia, and the rebuilding of Gaza under American supervision—including the relocation of Gaza’s population during this period and perhaps beyond.

His immediate goal is a ceasefire and hostage return. By publicly floating a relocation plan, Trump increases his bargaining power over both Israel and Hamas. For Netanyahu, Trump’s support has helped shore up his position – not only with the Israeli public but, crucially, with his far-right coalition partners. Dangling his Gaza plan in front of figures like Bezalel Smotrich makes it easier for them to accept a ceasefire as a necessary step toward larger strategic gains.

Simultaneously, Trump exerts pressure on Hamas. Israel demands that Hamas’ leadership go into exile and that the group disarm. If Hamas refuses, it risks US backing for an Israeli military campaign to impose those terms. Furthermore, with Hezbollah and Iran weakened, Hamas’ previous strategy – provoking a regional war – looks far less viable than it did a year ago.

However, the majority of Gazans will not voluntarily opt to leave. While some third countries might accept limited numbers, Arab states reject mass relocation outright. Even Netanyahu’s government, with its far-right component, is unlikely to pursue expulsion. Doing so could set the West Bank ablaze, unravel Israel’s normalisation and peace agreements, and destabilise pro-Western regimes – gifting Iran, ISIS, and similar groups a massive political boost.

Assuming Israel dismantles Hamas’ governing capability power within a timeframe acceptable to Trump – a major "if" – Gaza will be left in a political vacuum. Trump has signalled that he does not want Israeli occupation or settler return, raising the question of who will fill the void. At this point, America’s Arab allies might seek to head off Trump’s relocation plan by investing heavily in Gaza’s reconstruction, with most of its population remaining. In return, Trump could leverage his support for Netanyahu to extract the concessions needed to secure Saudi normalisation – potentially an “over-the-horizon” Palestinian state, conditional on reforming the Palestinian Authority.

This scenario, however, is vulnerable to multiple points of failure – not least Trump himself. He is instinctively isolationist, having threatened to leave NATO, pushed for withdrawal from Iraq and Afghanistan, and even offered to remove all of America’s 25,000 troops from South Korea in exchange for a nuclear deal with North Korea. How likely is it that he would take on a massive commitment in Gaza – a potential quagmire where American forces would be constantly targeted by radical Islamist militias?

Trump’s brand of diplomacy is built on pushing extremes to shift negotiations in his favour. By introducing a radical alternative – relocation – he forces regional players to make concessions to prevent it from materialising. But there is a difference between entertaining the idea of population transfer in principle and making it an actionable priority. For Trump, relocation is a tool, not a strategic goal.

Professor Jonathan Rynhold is the head of the Political Studies department at Bar-Ilan University and a senior researcher at the Begin-Sadat Centre for Strategic Studies.