Israel turned a painful page in January when it received the body of Ran Gvili, the final remaining hostage Hamas had held since October 7, 2023. Gvili was a 24-year-old Israeli Police Special Forces officer who was on medical leave that fateful day yet fought with everything he had at Kibbutz Alumim. Even while wounded, he continued to battle terrorists, protect civilians, and embody the fierce moral clarity of Israelis who ran toward danger instead of fleeing from it.
His return offered closure to a nation that spent more than two years in the shadow of the captivity with empty chairs and yellow ribbon pins demonstrating solidarity with the hostages as they endured the suffocating uncertainty of what could happen to their loved ones. With Gvili’s body home, Israel symbolically closed the book on the hostage crisis.
But as one book closed, another quietly opened. Days earlier, Israel was confronted with what could become a new kind of captivity—political, diplomatic, and far more complicated.
The Board of Peace, an invitation-only, U.S.-led, international organization, was created in January to oversee the Gaza ceasefire, manage reconstruction, and weigh in on global conflicts. But its mandate is far broader and more global than rebuilding Gaza, which isn’t mentioned anywhere in its founding charter. Rather, the board “seeks to promote stability, restore dependable and lawful governance, and secure enduring peace in areas affected or threatened by conflict.”
It exists outside the United Nations (UN) and is built to be faster, more centralized, and more insulated from bureaucracy. More than 20 nations quickly accepted the United States’ invitation to join the board, including Egypt, Indonesia, Jordan, Pakistan, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and the United Arab Emirates. Israel will sit on this council too, but at what cost?
Gaza is not an abstraction. It is not a geopolitical thought experiment. It is a strip of land the size of Washington, DC, pressed directly against Israel’s southern flank. Now, more than 20 countries, many with open hostility or deep suspicion toward Israel, will have a seat at the table making decisions about the Jewish state’s future, security, and daily reality.
Turkey has spent the years since October 7, 2023, blasting Israel as an “aggressor.” Qatar has served as a host, financier, and political shield for Hamas. Both are now stakeholders in Gaza’s reconstruction and governance.
This new board risks functioning like a quasi-UN—a frightening prospect, given the UN’s abysmal track record when it comes to Israel. The UN has labeled Israel the world’s worst human rights violator while barely whispering about the egregious abuses of countries like China, Venezuela, North Korea, and Iran. Now, it may have an unaccountable cousin with direct influence over Gaza’s future and, by extension, Israel’s.
Israel may have finished one hostage chapter only to begin another—one not forged with guns or tunnels, but with diplomats and subcommittees. It will now struggle not in the darkness of captivity, but around a conference table where decisions made thousands of miles away can hem in Israel, restrain its security options, and slowly chip away at its sovereignty.
President Donald Trump currently serves as chairman of the Board of Peace, a position that carries enormous power and global influence. But what will happen when the next chairman steps in, someone who may not share his concern for Israel and the Jewish people?
The prophet Zechariah warned of a day when the nations will gather against Jerusalem, and the Lord Himself will intervene (Zech. 14:1–4). Although we are not prophets and must be careful with our interpretations, it’s hard to ignore this prophetic imagery when so many nations are now poised to weigh in on a sliver of land located a mere 50 miles from Jerusalem.
Israel has received its final hostage from Gaza. May it not walk into another hostage crisis.
