When Donald Trump announced his 20-point plan to “end” the Gaza war, several Muslim-majority states rushed to endorse it. Among them was Indonesia, a nation long viewed as an unwavering supporter of Palestinian aspirations. Jakarta’s decision to back the proposal was framed as constructive diplomacy — a sign of readiness to engage globally. Yet beneath the optics lies a dangerous gamble: Indonesia’s reputation as a principled defender of Palestinian rights is at stake, while the plan itself bears all the marks of failure.
Indonesia’s history makes this endorsement surprising. Since independence, the country’s leaders have consistently positioned themselves as champions of Palestinian statehood, insisting that true peace requires freedom for Palestinians. President Prabowo Subianto, addressing the United Nations just weeks before the plan’s release, called for an independent Palestine and pledged 20,000 troops for any UN-mandated peace mission in Gaza. Such words suggested resolve. The quick embrace of Trump’s initiative, however, signals a pivot toward Washington that risks undermining decades of policy.
The problem lies not only in symbolism but in substance. Trump’s framework, unveiled with fanfare at the White House, offered familiar promises: a cease-fire, phased Israeli withdrawal, reconstruction of Gaza, and even a “credible pathway” toward Palestinian statehood. But those promises dissolved almost immediately when Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu attached sweeping conditions. Israel, he insisted, would keep “security control” over Gaza for the “foreseeable future.” The Palestinian Authority, long touted by the West as the legitimate representative, would be barred from governing. And the idea of eventual statehood? Brushed aside, replaced by demands that Palestinians recognize Israel as a “Jewish state” and abandon appeals to international courts.
The pattern is unmistakable. Israel gains real concessions up front — international legitimacy, hostages returned, freedom to operate militarily — while Palestinians receive only conditional, open-ended promises. It is Oslo all over again: immediate recognition for Israel, deferred statehood for Palestinians, and no enforcement mechanism to ensure balance.
For Indonesia, the cost of endorsing such a framework is high. Domestically, sympathy for Palestine is not merely policy; it is a deep-seated element of political identity. Civil society, religious groups, and ordinary citizens have long mobilized in solidarity with Gaza. Already, the sight of Prabowo’s image on billboards in Tel Aviv — part of an Israeli campaign touting support for Trump’s plan — has stirred anger at home. Analysts in Jakarta warn that the government appears hasty, even careless, in aligning with a plan widely criticized for its pro-Israel bias.
Beyond domestic backlash, Jakarta risks diluting its hard-earned credibility abroad. Indonesia has often acted as a bridge in international forums: a Muslim nation with global legitimacy, able to press the case for Palestine while engaging major powers. By appearing to rubber-stamp a flawed American initiative, it jeopardizes that standing. Instead of shaping the peace process, Indonesia could be cast as merely echoing Washington’s line.
The humanitarian stakes are impossible to ignore. More than 65,000 Palestinians have been killed in Gaza since the conflict began. A UN commission has described Israel’s campaign as genocidal. Yet Trump’s proposal — and Netanyahu’s edits — contain no demand for accountability, no mechanism to address war crimes, no acknowledgement of the scale of civilian suffering. A “peace plan” that refuses to confront the root causes of destruction is not a roadmap to reconciliation; it is a shield for impunity.
Indonesia does have alternatives. It could use its diplomatic weight to push for revisions to Trump’s document, demanding concrete timelines for Israeli withdrawal and international guarantees for Palestinian sovereignty. It could coordinate with other Muslim nations to ensure that Palestinian voices shape the negotiations. And it could frame its offer of peacekeeping troops not as tacit approval of a biased plan, but as leverage to insist on a fair and enforceable agreement.
Prabowo has spoken of a vision of “peace without hate, peace without suspicion.” Noble words — but without mutual recognition and real accountability, such peace remains elusive. By endorsing a plan already gutted of its promises, Jakarta risks abandoning the principles it has long defended.
History offers sobering lessons. George W. Bush’s “Road Map” collapsed under Israeli reservations. The Oslo Accords delivered recognition to Israel but left Palestinians stateless three decades later. Trump’s blueprint, rewritten almost immediately by Netanyahu, is destined for the same fate. If Indonesia attaches its name to yet another dead-end, it risks complicity in legitimizing an indefinite occupation.
Indonesia’s global influence matters precisely because it has no entanglements with Israel and represents nearly a fifth of the world’s Muslims. That influence should not be squandered on a document that offers Palestinians little more than conditions and delays. Jakarta can and should demand more — a peace that is just, enforceable, and rooted in Palestinian freedom. Anything less is not peace at all, but surrender disguised as diplomacy.
The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.







