The political irony of Prabowo’s Gaza moment

President Prabowo Subianto’s presence at the Gaza Peace Summit in Sharm El-Sheikh, Egypt, last week marked a significant moment in Indonesia’s foreign policy stagecraft. Standing alongside world figures such as Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, US President Donald Trump, and several Middle Eastern leaders, Prabowo projected an image of Indonesia as a country ready to play a larger role in international peace efforts. For domestic audiences, his appearance was seen as a natural continuation of his earlier speech at the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA), where he called for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza and reaffirmed Indonesia’s longstanding stance that the two state solution must remain the cornerstone of any durable peace.

Yet behind the diplomatic fanfare and the applause in the Egyptian resort city, lies a deeper irony. The so-called Gaza Peace Summit, officially meant to consolidate what has come to be known as the Gaza Plan, did not, in essence, fulfill the moral and political spirit of Prabowo’s UNGA address. On the contrary, it may well mark another step away from the very foundation of peace that Prabowo passionately defended: the two-state solution.

The Sharm El-Sheikh meeting was orchestrated largely by Washington and Cairo, with Trump at the center of attention. In his characteristically dramatic style, Trump praised several attending leaders, including Prabowo. “He’s a tough man, a great leader from Indonesia,” Trump said before a room of cameras, a remark that swiftly made headlines in Jakarta. Symbolically, it was a moment of recognition, an acknowledgment of Indonesia’s growing diplomatic visibility. Prabowo, smiling and visibly at ease, exchanged words with Trump and was even caught on a “hot mic” requesting to meet Trump’s son, Eric, to which Trump responded warmly.

READ: Why Prabowo’s presence at the Sharm el-Sheikh summit raises questions 

For some observers, that exchange underscored Prabowo’s effort to build personal rapport with Washington, still the key power broker in Middle Eastern geopolitics. But praise from Trump, however flattering, should not be confused with alignment of vision. If one reads the Gaza Plan closely, the dissonance with Indonesia’s long-held principles becomes evident. The plan, championed by the US and endorsed by Egypt, the European Union, and a number of “moderate” Arab states, centers less on political justice for Palestinians and more on stabilizing security and rebuilding Gaza’s shattered infrastructure.

The plan envisions the creation of a Board of Peace for Gaza, a multinational supervisory body that would oversee reconstruction and transitional governance in the enclave. Yet, both Hamas and the Palestinian Authority (PA), the two political entities that have represented Palestinian aspirations in different capacities, are effectively sidelined. Gaza, once again, is treated not as a political community with agency but as a humanitarian project to be managed. Under this arrangement, Gaza’s future will largely be directed by a consortium of nations, Egypt, the US, the EU, and other states that maintain close relations with Israel. It is difficult to ignore the implication: this new “peace board” risks becoming an extension of Israeli influence under the veneer of international cooperation.

For Prabowo, attending the summit may have felt like the logical sequel to his UN speech: a chance to translate rhetoric into action, to demonstrate Indonesia’s commitment to global peace. Yet, the substance of the Gaza Plan itself runs counter to the very spirit of that speech. What is being built in Sharm El-Sheikh is not a peace grounded in justice, but a pragmatic truce designed to freeze the conflict while preserving the status quo. The U.S. seeks to reclaim its image as a peacemaker, Egypt wants to reaffirm its role as a regional stabilizer, and Israel benefits from a framework that neutralizes Hamas without conceding political sovereignty to the Palestinians.

On the surface, all seems well, the guns fall silent, aid convoys return, and international pledges flow. But beneath this facade, the Gaza Plan cements a new political reality, the quiet entrenchment of a one-state paradigm. Israel remains the dominant authority over security and territory, while Palestinian governance is reduced to administrative and economic functions. Political sovereignty, the essence of statehood, is conspicuously absent.

This is the painful irony of Prabowo’s Gaza moment. In celebrating what appears to be a diplomatic victory, he may unwittingly be witnessing the burial of the very principle he championed at the UN, the two-state solution. The historical legitimacy of that idea has been eroding for years, undermined by expanding Israeli settlements, political fragmentation among Palestinians, and the world’s growing fatigue with the conflict. The Gaza Plan merely formalizes this erosion, replacing the vision of an independent Palestinian state with a managerial peace that treats Palestinians as subjects of reconstruction, not as citizens of a nation.

Trump’s flattering words, calling Prabowo a “tough man”, thus carry a certain irony of their own. True toughness in leadership is not measured by appearances on the world stage or by cordial moments with powerful counterparts. It lies in the ability to uphold principle amid pressure, to speak uncomfortable truths even when applause demands conformity. Prabowo’s presence in Egypt projected strength and confidence, but it also highlighted the narrow space available to Indonesia within the current geopolitical order, an order increasingly defined by transactional diplomacy rather than moral conviction.

Worse still, Indonesia’s participation risks being misinterpreted as tacit endorsement of a peace framework that strips Palestinians of agency. As the world applauds a ceasefire and hails a “new beginning,” few are asking whether the people of Gaza have truly been given control over their future. Without political inclusion, reconstruction becomes little more than a humanitarian facade masking continued occupation and control.

It is precisely here that Indonesia’s moral voice must not falter. Since the days of Sukarno, the nation’s foreign policy has rested on two guiding principles, opposition to colonial domination and support for the right of all nations to self determination. To uphold that legacy means insisting that peace cannot be imposed from above, nor can it serve as a stage for the vanity of global leaders. Genuine peace must empower the oppressed, not simply pacify them.

Prabowo’s diplomatic activism undeniably brings Indonesia new visibility. Yet visibility without substance risks turning into mere spectacle. To celebrate “peace” in Gaza while ignoring the absence of sovereignty is to confuse silence with justice. A ceasefire without political solution is not peace, it is postponement.

Ultimately, the most dangerous outcome of the Gaza Plan and the Sharm El-Sheikh conference would be if they were reduced to platforms for personal glorification. If Donald Trump sees it as a bid for renewed legitimacy, if President el-Sisi uses it to bolster his image as a regional stabilizer, and if Prabowo treats it as validation of Indonesia’s rising global profile, then the cost will be devastating: the sovereignty of the Palestinian people sacrificed on the altar of international reputation. Real peace demands humility, moral clarity, and the courage to prioritize justice over image. Anything less risks turning Gaza’s future into nothing more than another stage for political theater, played out over the aspirations of a nation still struggling to breathe free.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.