Monday, October 6, 2025

When the Bullets Go Silent: Why Trump Should Earn the Nobel if Gaza Finally Breathes

 


If President Trump ends the Gaza war, frees hostages, and rebuilds peace, denying him the Nobel Peace Prize would be hypocrisy—because the prize was never for saints, but for those who stopped the killing.

History doesn’t whisper when it turns—it roars. And right now, that roar echoes from the desert halls of Sharm el-Sheikh, where Israeli and Hamas negotiators sit in separate rooms while the world holds its breath. Monday, October 6th, could become the day when bloodshed begins to give way to bargaining, when hostages see daylight, and when a man once mocked as a “chaos merchant” steps into history as a broker of peace. If President  Donald Trump’s deal works—if it stops the war, frees the captives, and opens Gaza to aid—then he doesn’t just deserve recognition; he deserves the Nobel Peace Prize.

Yes, you read that right. The man who built walls might be the one to tear down the most dangerous one of all—the wall of endless war. His plan is as daring as it is divisive. Forty-eight Israeli hostages for nearly two thousand Palestinian prisoners, a partial Israeli pullback, and an international stabilization force to hold the fragile truce together. To critics, it sounds like madness. To realists like myself, it sounds like the only move left on the board.

Trump’s 20-point peace plan forces both sides into uncomfortable corners. He’s ordered Netanyahu to stop the bombings and dared Hamas to relinquish power—or face “Complete Obliteration.” Say what you will about his style, but when Trump says “Peace,” people listen because they’re never quite sure if the next word will be “or else.” In a region where diplomacy usually crawls, Trump bulldozes. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what this frozen conflict needs. Sometimes you don’t need a whispering dove—you need a roaring lion that’s tired of the blood.

Hamas’s lead negotiator, Khalil al-Hayya, has already buried his own son after an Israeli strike narrowly missed him. Across the resort, Ron Dermer—Netanyahu’s top adviser—is representing the government that ordered that very strike. They’re not talking directly; intermediaries rush between rooms like overworked messengers in a Shakespearean tragedy. Hovering over it all are Jared Kushner and Steve Witkoff—Trump’s trusted allies—tasked with “babysitting” both sides to ensure no one storms out. In other words, peace is being built through gritted teeth and sleepless nights.

And yet, hope flickers. Israel’s military wants out. After two relentless years of warfare, five divisions are stuck in Gaza, and tens of thousands of reservists are waiting to go home. A top general has already admitted that a “quick ceasefire and rapid redeployment” is part of the plan. That isn’t defeat—it’s exhaustion speaking truth. As the saying goes, even the sword gets weary of cutting.

For Hamas, the cracks are showing. Their leadership is split between the militants who crave endless “resistance” and the pragmatists who know that power without people is nothing. Gaza is bleeding; its streets are dust, its hospitals overrun. Al-Hayya knows that continuing the fight could destroy what’s left of his movement. If he can bring home 1,950 prisoners—some serving life sentences—he can at least tell his people he wrestled something from the jaws of despair.

Trump’s brilliance, if one dares call it that, lies in his timing. He knows both sides are too drained to keep fighting and too proud to surrender. So he gives them a deal they can sell as victory. Netanyahu, under pressure at home, now calls the ceasefire plan “his own triumph,” boasting that Israel is “changing the face of the Middle East.” Behind the scenes, however, it’s Trump who’s twisting the arms, applying the pressure, and—when necessary—lighting the fire.

Let’s not sugarcoat it: this is one of the riskiest negotiations in modern history. If Israel withdraws too early, Hamas might rearm. If Hamas drags its feet, Israel’s far-right coalition could implode, taking Netanyahu down with it. Yet risk is the midwife of history. Roosevelt risked his credibility when he brokered peace between Russia and Japan in 1905—and won the Nobel for it. Jimmy Carter risked his presidency at Camp David to bring Egypt and Israel together—and that handshake changed the world. Trump, for all his flaws, is now standing where they once stood: between hatred and hope, trying to force enemies to share the same future.

Critics call him opportunistic. Maybe he is. But opportunism in the service of peace is not sin—it’s strategy. The Nobel Peace Prize, after all, was never meant for saints; it was meant for those who stopped the killing. If Trump’s push ends the war, frees hostages, and rebuilds Gaza, then giving him the Nobel isn’t flattery—it’s justice. You can’t preach about rewarding peacemakers and then punish the one who actually delivers peace because you dislike his tweets.

Of course, nothing in the Middle East comes easy. Hamas could backtrack. Israel’s extremists could sabotage the process. The peace could die before it’s born. But for now, something rare is happening: a sliver of sanity amid the smoke. Aid convoys are poised to move. Israeli mothers are daring to hope. Palestinian fathers are praying their sons might finally sleep under skies without drones. When the heart grows tired of war, even thunder begins to sound like applause.

So yes—give credit where it’s due. If President Donald Trump pulls this off, if the guns fall silent and Gaza begins to rebuild, he will have accomplished what generations of diplomats, presidents, and prime ministers could not. The same man mocked for chaos may end up writing one of the calmest chapters in modern history. That irony would sting his critics—but history loves irony.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the price of peace. Sometimes it takes a man who thrives in conflict to finally end one. If President Trump succeeds, then let Oslo prepare the medal, because for once, the world’s most controversial man might just deserve its most unifying prize. When peace finally knocks, it doesn’t matter who opens the door—only that someone does.

 

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