The proposal for a “Board of Peace” (BoP), spearheaded by US President Donald Trump with an initial focus on Gaza but with declared global ambitions, raises profound questions about the future of international diplomacy and multilateralism. At its core, the initiative appears less as a spontaneous peace endeavour and more as the latest, and perhaps most explicit, gambit in a long-running US struggle with the existing United Nations (UN) system. To understand its prospects, one must first examine the US discontent that fuels this proposal.
For decades, the US has been the UN’s principal funder as well as a dominant force within its secretariat and many of its specialised agencies. Western influence, with Washington at the helm, is palpable in the staffing of senior posts and the general orientation of UN programmes. However, this dominance runs up against a formidable wall in the UN Security Council (UNSC). The veto-wielding power of China and Russia has repeatedly thwarted US and generally Western initiatives, turning the council from an instrument of US policy into a chamber of constraints. This is the central headache for Washington: a system it heavily bankrolls but cannot fully control on matters of supreme geopolitical importance.
Consequently, the US has often bypassed the UN when anticipating a Russian or Chinese veto. The unilateral economic sanctions against Russia and military strikes, such as those in Iran, stand as recent, stark examples. The logical, if radical, extension of this frustration is not mere bypassing but the creation of a parallel structure. The BoP, complete with plans for an International Stabilization Force (ISF), is not a novel concept in spirit. It echoes past failed initiatives like the proposed League of Democracies, championed by Joe Biden in his Senate years.
Trump, however, introduces a distinct, transactional approach to this idea. Learning from prior failures, he has chosen a title that is emotionally potent and vaguely bureaucratic, potentially obscuring its confrontational underpinnings. The design of the logo is reminiscent of that of the UN’s, which suggests an attempt to borrow the legitimacy of the established order while seeking to supplant it. Trump’s obsession with a Nobel Peace Prize adds a personal dimension; a laureate Trump would undoubtedly have leveraged that prestige to lend credence to this new venture.
The tactics for enrolment appear to follow Trump’s well-documented playbook: a mix of persuasion and pressure. Invitations are dispatched, with an implicit or perhaps explicit threat of punitive trade tariffs for those who decline. This coercive potential may sway some nations dependent on the US market, but it simultaneously undermines the project’s credibility. An organisation born from strong-arm tactics will struggle to be perceived as a genuine forum for equitable peacebuilding.
This is where the BoP faces its most significant hurdles. Major global powers are likely to abstain. China and Russia would naturally view it as a hostile, US-centric alliance designed to marginalise them further. Crucially, many European nations, despite being traditional US allies, remain deeply invested in the UN framework and are wary of initiatives that explicitly undermine multilateralism for a unilateral, transaction-based world order. Their participation is doubtful without guarantees of shared, substantive leadership—a concession unlikely from a Trump-led project.
Therefore, the most probable outcome is not the birth of a robust new UN, but the accelerated weakening of the current one. The Board of Peace may not stand firm as a functional alternative, but the very act of its promotion by a figure like Trump inflicts damage. It encourages further disengagement from the UN, legitimises non-cooperation, and deepens the rift between Western and non-Western visions of global governance. The world would not gain an effective new peace body but instead lose faith in the existing one, without a viable replacement.
In conclusion, Trump’s Board of Peace is unlikely to find deep or widespread diplomatic traction. Its divisive genesis, coercive recruitment strategy, and exclusionary premise alienate the very actors necessary for global stability. It is less a vessel meant to hold water and more a wrecking ball aimed at the foundations of the post-war multilateral system. Its legacy may not be a new era of peace, but a deepened global crisis: a world where the rules-based order is further fragmented, leaving behind a dangerous vacuum where ad hoc alliances and raw power politics hold greater sway than ever before. The greatest risk is not the board’s success, but the collateral damage its pursuit will cause to international cooperation.
Md. Firoj Alam is a development consultant.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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