Tariq Saeedi
In the first part of this analysis, I examined the foundational flaws in the Board of Peace (BoP) charter—its dramatic departure from the UN-mandated focus on Gaza reconstruction, the absence of essential governance mechanisms like succession planning and accountability, and its troubling resemblance to a personal fiefdom rather than a legitimate international institution.
From someone of Trump’s intellectual stature, one might have anticipated a more robust framework.
In this concluding part, I turn to the temporal fragility of the BoP.
Even if we set aside its structural deficiencies, the organization’s viability appears inextricably tied to Donald Trump’s tenure as President of the United States. Once he departs office—whether through term limit, or any other means—the BoP risks fading into irrelevance, lacking the military muscle, institutional backing, and genuine multilateral buy-in to sustain itself. This is not mere speculation; it stems from the BoP’s heavy reliance on American power, the composition of its Executive Board, and the questionable motivations of its member states.
The Ticking Clock – Trump’s Tenure as the BoP’s Lifeline
The Board of Peace, as currently conceived, draws much of its potential influence from Trump’s position as U.S. President. His ability to leverage American diplomatic, economic, and especially military resources underpins the organization’s credibility—or at least its perceived capacity to act decisively in conflict zones.
But presidencies are finite. Trump’s second term, assuming no unforeseen extensions, will end in January 2029. What happens then?
As a former president, Trump would retain his role as BoP Chairman for life (per the charter’s lack of term limits), but he would lose the authority to mobilize the U.S. armed forces. Under the U.S. Constitution, only the sitting President, as Commander-in-Chief, can deploy troops abroad, subject to congressional oversight via the War Powers Resolution.
A retired Trump could advocate, negotiate, or even attempt to influence his successors, but he could not unilaterally commit American military assets to BoP initiatives. This is no small matter.
The BoP’s charter implicitly envisions the possibility of establishing stabilization forces—echoing the Gaza-specific International Stabilization Force authorized by UN Resolution 2803—but without U.S. troops, such forces would be hollow.
Imagine a scenario where the BoP, under Trump’s post-presidential chairmanship, identifies a new conflict zone requiring intervention. The organization could “adopt resolutions or other directives” (per Article 6 of the charter), but enforcing them would depend on member states voluntarily contributing forces.
Without American boots on the ground—historically the backbone of many multilateral interventions—the BoP would be reduced to a discussion forum, issuing toothless pronouncements.
From someone of Trump’s intellectual stature, one would expect a design that anticipates this obvious vulnerability, perhaps by embedding mechanisms for independent military coalitions or diversified funding for private security forces. Instead, the charter is silent, betraying a shortsightedness that dooms the BoP to an inevitable sunset tied to Trump’s Oval Office access.
Voiceless Contributors: Member States as Cannon Fodder Without Influence
This military dependency exacerbates another core imbalance: the disconnect between those who might bear the costs of intervention and those who make the decisions.
The BoP’s Executive Board, which holds veto power over major actions and advises the Chairman, is dominated by Americans or U.S.-aligned figures. Of the seven members:
- Donald Trump (U.S. President and Chairman)
- Marco Rubio (U.S. Secretary of State)
- Jared Kushner (Trump’s son-in-law and former U.S. advisor)
- Steve Witkoff (U.S. Special Envoy)
- Tony Blair (Former UK Prime Minister, but a longtime U.S. ally in interventions like Iraq)
- Ajay Banga (World Bank President, U.S.-nominated)
- Marc Rowan (U.S.-based CEO of Apollo Global Management)
This composition is overwhelmingly American-centric, with members whose primary loyalties and stakes lie in U.S. interests rather than in the diverse member countries of the BoP.
These individuals lack meaningful ties to the nations expected to contribute troops—countries like Saudi Arabia, the UAE, or smaller European states that have joined. Blair, for instance, represents a past UK leadership, but his inclusion feels more like a nod to transatlantic alliances than genuine representation of non-U.S. perspectives.
Critically, these board members have no proven track record in peacekeeping or creating peace.
Kushner’s Middle East experience culminated in the Abraham Accords, a diplomatic achievement but one focused on normalization rather than active conflict resolution or post-war reconstruction.
Rubio and Witkoff are diplomats without notable peacekeeping credentials. Blair’s legacy includes the controversial Iraq War, which destabilized the region rather than securing enduring peace. Banga and Rowan bring financial expertise, useful for funding but irrelevant to the nuances of mediation or stabilization. Rowan, in particular, as a private equity CEO, raises questions about whether the BoP is viewed more as an investment opportunity than a peace mechanism.
In contrast, effective peacekeeping bodies like the UN’s Department of Peace Operations draw on experts with decades of field experience in conflict zones, from Bosnia to Mali. The BoP’s board, by design, prioritizes personal connections to Trump over expertise, ensuring that decisions about potential wars or interventions are made by a clique with little skin in the game beyond American geopolitical aims.
Member states—those invited and paying for permanent seats—would be expected to send their troops into harm’s way, yet they hold no decisive voice on the Executive Board. — Decisions flow from majority votes among members (subject to Trump’s veto), but the board’s advisory role and Trump’s unilateral authority marginalize them further.
This is not equitable multilateralism; it’s a system where contributors are voiceless, risking lives and resources for agendas set by distant, unaccountable elites.
Motivations of the Joiners: Short-Term Gains Amid Impending Obsolescence
Given these flaws and the BoP’s probable expiration post-Trump, why did approximately 25 countries—out of 60 invited—choose to sign the charter in Davos?
These nations, including key players like Saudi Arabia, the UAE, Israel, and some European states, are not naive; their foreign ministries surely recognized the organization’s structural weaknesses and temporal limits. Yet they joined, likely driven by pragmatic, short-term calculations rather than faith in the BoP’s longevity.
First, geopolitical alignment with the U.S. during Trump’s presidency offers immediate benefits.
For some, participation signals loyalty to a pro-Israel, anti-Iran administration, potentially unlocking U.S. arms deals, intelligence sharing, or favorable trade terms.
Paying $1 billion for permanent membership might seem steep, but it’s a bargain if it secures Washington’s favor in regional rivalries—especially with the BoP’s initial (though unmentioned in the charter) tie to Gaza reconstruction, where these states have economic interests in post-conflict development.
Second, some joiners may view the BoP as a hedge against UN inefficiencies. Countries frustrated with Security Council vetoes might see value in a parallel forum where decisions can be made swiftly—albeit under Trump’s thumb.
Third, economic opportunism plays a role. The charter’s focus on “coordinating funding” for redevelopment appeals to nations with investment arms, like sovereign wealth funds in the Gulf. Joining could position them for contracts in Gaza or future “peace-building” projects, turning the BoP into a lucrative network rather than a pure peacekeeping entity. Even if the organization sunsets, early involvement might yield deals that outlast it.
Finally, there’s the prestige factor—or perhaps the fear of exclusion. Declining Trump’s invitation risks straining bilateral ties during his presidency, as seen with France, Germany, and the UK’s refusals, which drew public rebukes. For smaller states, membership offers a seat at a high-profile table, however fleeting, enhancing their international profile.
These motivations, while rational in the short term, underscore the BoP’s fragility.
Joiners are betting on Trump’s current influence, not the institution’s endurance. They understand the impending sunset but calculate that the window until 2029 provides sufficient value—arms, investments, alliances—before the structure collapses under its own weight.
Summary of Additional Deficiencies
Building on the first part’s analysis, these temporal and motivational issues reveal further critical shortcomings:
- Tenure Dependency: The BoP’s viability hinges on Trump’s presidential authority, particularly for military mobilization.
- Post-Presidential Impotence: Without U.S. forces, future interventions would lack credibility and enforcement.
- Imbalanced Decision-Making: Troop-contributing countries have no decisive Executive Board voice.
- Unqualified Leadership: Board members lack peacekeeping expertise and stakes in member nations.
- Opportunistic Membership: Joiners prioritize short-term U.S. alignment over long-term institutional faith.
- Inevitable Irrelevance: No mechanisms to transition power or sustain operations beyond Trump’s term.
Conclusion
In examining the Board of Peace across both parts of this analysis, what emerges is not a visionary contribution to global stability but an ephemeral construct, ambitious in rhetoric yet fatally undermined by haste, hubris, and hyper-personalization.
The BoP’s charter, untethered from its Gaza origins and lacking basic safeguards, now reveals an even deeper flaw: its life cycle mirrors Trump’s presidency. Once he steps down, the organization—deprived of American military might, burdened by an unqualified board, and sustained only by members’ fleeting self-interests—will likely reach the natural end of its brief existence.
This is not the profound, lasting legacy one might expect from someone of Trump’s intellectual stature. Instead, it’s a cautionary tale of how personal ambition, unchecked by institutional rigor, produces entities doomed to obsolescence.
The world deserves better frameworks for peace—ones built on collective wisdom, not individual whim. As the BoP fades, perhaps it will serve as a reminder of what not to do in the pursuit of global security. /// nCa, [CONCLUDED.]