Yahya al-Masri is a Palestinian writer and linguist in Gaza.
After the so-called 20-point peace plan proposed by U.S. President Donald Trump and signed and endorsed by world leaders on Oct. 13—with Israel and Hamas agreeing on the first stage that kicked off a tenuous ceasefire—the Palestinian people are asking a question that cannot be ignored: "What now?"
The plan's first stage includes a cessation of killings and broader hostilities, the release of hostages on both sides and the resumption of humanitarian aid. Subsequent stages will follow, depending on the commitment of both parties. But Palestinians, particularly in Gaza, have experienced ceasefires that did not last, leaving them understandably skeptical.
So far, the plan and ceasefire sit on shaky ground, particularly due to Israeli violations, leaving plenty of reasons for this skepticism. Israel continues to bomb Gaza, restrict aid and forcibly close crossings—all clear violations of Trump's plan.
A few days ago, I managed to contact my family in Gaza via video call, having recently evacuated from the Strip, and asked about their feelings toward the ceasefire. They told me that the ceasefire brought a deep sigh of relief the moment it went into effect. They were happy, celebrating the hope of a temporary respite from daily bombing.
Yet I saw something else in their eyes—a silence that held both relief and terror. I continued asking until they finally told me what they were afraid of: The growing, chaotic clashes between Hamas fighters and armed gangs trained, armed and empowered by Israel to let the genocide go on, albeit in a softer, slower and more difficult to criticize motion.
The violence continues, while no one and nothing—not even Trump's so-called peace plan—appears to be stopping it.
- Yahya al-Masri
Living in the tent that I had recently shared with them, my family told me they had to stay low to the ground to avoid random bullets from these exchanges. I became increasingly concerned, advising them to find a school to live in—at least one built of cement that could offer some protection. But that solution is impossible today: Israel has destroyed most schools, and the few remaining are already crammed with displaced families who have lost everything because of Israel's genocide.
Just a few days ago, Saleh al-Ja'afarawi, a widely known Palestinian journalist, was found kidnapped, beaten and murdered while covering the firefight between Hamas security forces and Israel's armed militias. Saleh, alongside his fellow brave Palestinian journalists, spared no effort to document the Israeli atrocities in Gaza over the two-year genocide. He received numerous threats from the Israeli occupying forces, warning him to stop his coverage. Israel promised to kill him otherwise.
He refused to stop, continuing to report while defying fear. He was determined to tell the world the truth. Recently, he filmed himself with civil defense workers celebrating the ceasefire. The video went viral.
Now, Saleh is gone. Did Israel fulfill its promise to kill him through its collaborators?
Saleh is not the only victim of these engineered, chaotic actions. Reports suggest that several fighters and innocent civilians have been killed since the ceasefire took effect—people who merely celebrated their survival after two years of unprecedented horror. The violence continues, while no one and nothing—not even Trump's so-called peace plan—appears to be stopping it.
If peace were truly the goal, why not immediately deploy peacekeeping forces to restore order and protect civilians?
This plan does not resemble any real sense of peace. Peace, for us as Palestinians, means ending occupation and apartheid. It means enabling the Palestinian people to realize their own state.
- Yahya al-Masri
That simple question, among many others, constitutes the vagueness defining Trump's 20-point plan. This lack of detail risks making it ineffective—potentially by design. For example, it does not explicitly state when Israeli troops will fully withdraw from Gaza, remains vague on aid and fails to clearly outline steps leading to the transitional technocratic Palestinian committee, which is set to eventually assume governance of the Strip. It is silent on other critical issues, such as what Hamas' disarmament will look like in practice, and only vaguely acknowledges the possibility of Palestinian statehood in passing.
This dynamic is precisely why Palestinians find the plan hollow and detached from reality. It fails to offer a vision of peace rooted in justice or accountability, as opposed to a return to the status quo under worse security and economic conditions than before Oct. 7, 2023, with only the dim possibility of a full solution in some vaguely defined future.
Many experts agree. Norman Finkelstein, a Jewish historian, commented on the plan, saying, "It is literally a 20-point with no reference, no elaboration and no coherence." He added, "The only deadline in the twenty-point plan…is [that] Hamas has 72 hours to accept it, or Trump will give Israel a green light to decimate Gaza."
Mehdi Hasan, CEO of Zeteo, shared similar criticism: "To have a plan created by Tony Blair, Jared Kushner and edited by Benjamin Netanyahu will clearly not be great to the Palestinians." He added that it is "a very colonial plan…Tony Blair and Donald Trump should have nothing to do with the running of Gaza."
Meanwhile, Diana Butu, Palestinian human rights attorney, former advisor to the negotiating team of the Palestine Liberation Organisation (PLO) and DAWN Non-Resident Fellow, described the plan as "not only a farce, but also an insult to anybody who actually believes in peace."
In truth, Trump has not designed this deal to bring peace to the Middle East, nor to Palestine. It was crafted to rescue Israel from global outrage and deepening isolation. It is also Trump's attempt to construct a "peacemaker" image for himself, in a blatantly childish and narcissistic attempt to edge closer to the Nobel Peace Prize he has long coveted.
Yet, this plan does not resemble any real sense of peace. Peace, for us as Palestinians, means ending occupation and apartheid. It means enabling the Palestinian people to realize their own state.
We need genuine peace: One that acknowledges decades of ethnic cleansing, occupation, colonization and apartheid, allowing Palestinians either to return to their homes from which they were forced to flee in the 1948 Nakba—when over 700,000 Palestinians were forcibly displaced from their homes upon the creation of the state of Israel—or to be compensated.
We do not need or want a peace plan that allows Israel to continue the annihilation of the Palestinian people in Gaza; a plan that repackages genocide in new suits; a plan that Trump politically manipulated to secure awards; or a plan that enables Arab nations to conceal their failure to halt yet another genocide in their neighborhood.
If the plan's purpose is to absorb the world's outrage, shielding Israel from deeper isolation, then let my message be clear: To all who have stood and stand for Palestine, humanity and justice, keep your eyes on Gaza.
Do not be deceived into thinking the genocide is over.
Do not let them numb your outrage or demobilize you.
Because the question of "what now" is not only ours—it belongs to the world, too.
