A deal that might heal — or haunt — the Middle East

For the first time in two years, Gaza woke to something close to silence. No airstrikes, no sirens, only the hum of generators and distant shouts of disbelief. Across the border in Tel Aviv’s Hostages Square, families held photos of their sons and daughters and chanted “Thank you, America.” In Khan Younis, vendors reopened stalls among the ruins and children chased kites stitched from old plastic bags. For a day, life tilted toward hope.

The ceasefire between Israel and Hamas — brokered by U.S. President Donald Trump after marathon talks with Qatar, Egypt and Turkey — promises to release hostages and prisoners on both sides. Hamas will free 48 captives; Israel will release nearly 1,900 Palestinians and withdraw troops from much of Gaza. “A strong and lasting peace,” Trump called it. Netanyahu echoed him: “A great day for Israel.”

The words sound rehearsed after so many false dawns. In Gaza, where more than 67,000 people have been killed since 2023, few are ready to celebrate. “Hope hurts,” a Palestinian teacher said quietly. “We’ve had too many beginnings.” Her fear is warranted: Even as the deal was signed, explosions echoed in the south.

Still, the world needs these moments of fragile optimism. A war that has flattened neighborhoods and divided politics in Israel and the U.S alike finally shows a path — however narrow — toward a pause in the killing. The question is whether that pause becomes peace or simply another breath before the next storm.

The Trump administration’s blueprint is bold but brittle. It calls for Hamas to disarm, Gaza to demilitarize and a civilian authority to take charge. Financial markets reacted with brief enthusiasm; the Tel Aviv index ticked up and the shekel strengthened. Yet beneath the relief lies unease. Many Israelis fear that retreating troops could invite Hamas to regroup. Some Palestinians worry that the deal will freeze, not fix, Gaza’s political limbo.

Beyond those immediate concerns, another risk grows in the shadows. Iran and its web of militias — the Houthis in Yemen, Hezbollah in Lebanon and smaller factions in Iraq and Syria — have exploited the Gaza war to expand their reach. In the past month alone, Houthi drones struck ships in the Red Sea, disrupting global trade, while Hezbollah rockets emptied Israel’s northern villages.

If the U.S. and Israel focus solely on Gaza, those peripheries could reignite. A recent American intelligence assessment warned that Tehran views the ceasefire as a “strategic timeout,” a chance to rearm its proxies while Washington celebrates diplomacy.

Iran’s state media has already cast the deal as a “victory for resistance.” Its message to regional allies is clear: Hold fire, wait, then resume when attention fades. The pattern is familiar — peace as intermission.

That is why the real test for this ceasefire lies beyond Gaza’s borders. Ending one war means nothing if others resume. The humanitarian cost already stretches across the region: famine in northern Gaza, displacement in southern Lebanon, dead sailors in the Red Sea. These are threads of the same fabric, woven through decades of rivalry and mistrust.

For Washington, the challenge is to broaden its gaze. It must match humanitarian generosity with strategic discipline. The pledged $500 million in Gaza aid should come with stricter oversight on Iran’s oil exports, cutting the cash that fuels proxy wars. The U.S. can also enlist Gulf partners. Saudi Arabia, fresh from its own Yemen ceasefire, could trade reconstruction funds for verified Houthi restraint. The UAE could back U.N. patrols along Lebanon’s border to keep Hezbollah in check.

None of this requires new wars — only consistency. Peace rarely collapses from lack of power; it falters from lack of attention.

Trump’s dealmaking instincts have produced unexpected openings before. The Abraham Accords rewired parts of the Middle East map. If his Gaza truce is to endure, it must grow into something similar: a platform for practical coexistence, not a brief political trophy. Envoys already in Cairo and Doha could fan out to Beirut and Riyadh, linking Gaza’s quiet to a regional reset.

And yet, lasting peace is not made by presidents alone. It rests in the small gestures that followed this announcement: an Israeli father lighting a candle for the hostages still missing, a Palestinian mother baking bread for the first time in weeks, children in both lands daring to imagine tomorrow.

For too long, the Middle East has lived in short breaths — violence, pause, relapse. The new ceasefire offers another breath, perhaps a deeper one. Whether it heals or haunts will depend on what the world does with the silence that follows.