As a Palestinian Pastor, I Can’t Call This ‘Peace’ Plan Justice

In Palestine, we welcomed the news of a ceasefire with hope—a fragile, trembling hope. After months of unbearable horror, we allowed ourselves to exhale. For the people of Gaza, it meant a pause in the killing, a night of uneasy quiet, and the possibility of sleep without bombs. For the first time in months, aid convoys could move, families could begin to search for loved ones beneath the rubble, and the living could start to count the dead.

But almost immediately, our reality of living under occupation intruded again. The arrest of Layan Nasser, a young Palestinian Christian activist who was recently detained by Israeli security forces for the third time, reminded us that nothing has fundamentally changed. Even as hostages are released, Israel continues to place more Palestinians under administrative detention. Even as politicians congratulate themselves on achieving “peace,” the machinery of occupation continues its cruel rhythm.

As a pastor and a Palestinian living in the West Bank, I write with gratitude and grief. I am grateful that, for a moment, the people of Gaza can breathe. I am grateful for every life spared, for every child who can wake up to silence rather than explosions. I rejoice for those released from captivity—Palestinian and Israeli—and I mourn for those who did not return. I grieve deeply for the thousands who remain imprisoned, displaced, and exiled, denied even the dignity of mourning.

But I cannot pretend that this ceasefire, or the so-called “peace” plan that follows it, represents anything close to justice. Last weekend, Israel launched airstrikes in Gaza, which killed close to 100 Palestinians and wounded over 200 more. Israel claimed that this breach of the ceasefire was a retaliation for Hamas attacking and killing Israel Defense Force troops in Rafah. But reports indicate that the two IDF casualties were not a result of a Hamas attack, but due to a bulldozer running over an unexploded ordnance. As reported by Al Jazeera, Gaza’s media office alleges that Israel has broken the ceasefire agreement 80 times since it took effect on Oct. 10. Still, despite violent rhetoric from both U.S. and Israeli officials, Hamas told BBC that it remains committed to the ceasefire agreement. The killing of Palestinians continues in large numbers.

These are dark and troubling times. We live in an age where war criminals are celebrated as peacemakers—where those who starve children, flatten buildings, and bomb refugee camps are praised for their “restraint.” It is a tragic irony that those who commit atrocities can be hailed as heroes the moment they pause the killing.

To make matters worse, the architects of past catastrophes—people like Tony Blair, the former British Prime Minister who supported the 2003 U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, which resulted in nearly one million people being killed—are being invited once again to oversee “reconstruction” and “stabilization.” The same logic that destroyed other nations is now being applied to rebuild Gaza.

READ MORE: Looking at Life Through the Eyes of Gaza

What politicians are selling to the world is not peace; it is submission. It is the illusion of peace; it is a coercive peace where the powerful impose their will, dictate terms, and call it “stability.” There is no mention of justice, no acknowledgment of war crimes, and no talk of reparations or accountability. The message is clear: Might makes right. The powerful rule, and the rest of us must accept.

Gaza is now being transformed into an investment opportunity. President Donald Trump’s 20-point peace plan promises to make Gaza one of the “thriving modern miracle cities in the Middle East.” The same nations that armed Israel during its campaign are now preparing to profit from rebuilding what their weapons destroyed. Companies and investors are being invited to line up to benefit from the ashes of Palestinian homes, to turn genocide into a business venture. The rich will grow richer, while the poor will rebuild their lives under the same occupation that tried to destroy them.

Meanwhile, Palestinians in the West Bank remain under siege—as they are subjected to daily raids, expanding settlements, and settler terrorism. Yet in the political discourse, Palestinians are told that we must be the ones to “reform.” As if our oppression were our own fault. As if the colonized must prove their worthiness for freedom.

Our humanity seems negotiable. When it comes to genocide, the world says, “Never again,” but this seems to only be applicable to some. Global leaders rush to ensure that Israeli suffering is never repeated, yet remain silent as Palestinians are bombed, starved, and erased. The interests of the empire outweigh the cries of the oppressed. Once again, Palestinians are asked to die quietly for someone else’s peace.

I am not trying to be cynical or pessimistic. But truth must be spoken plainly. A ceasefire is not peace. A pause in the killing, while apartheid continues, is not peace. A plan that ignores justice and accountability is not peace.

Real peace begins with the recognition of historic injustice—with naming what has been done to the Palestinian people for more than 75 years: ethnic cleansing, dispossession, and apartheid. Without truth, there can be no reconciliation. Without justice, peace will always be an illusion.

And yet, amid the ruins and a fragile ceasefire agreement, I hold on to hope. Not a naïve hope, but the stubborn, biblical hope that insists light can rise from darkness. We must honor the pain and loss of this war. We must tell the truth about the genocide that unfolded before our eyes. We must work for healing, not through denial, but through accountability and repentance.

Peace cannot be imposed. Rather, it must be built on justice, equality, and recognition of every human life as sacred. The people of Gaza, and all Palestinians, deserve not charity but dignity; not reconstruction under occupation but liberation from it.

Peace cannot be imposed. Rather, it must be built on justice, equality, and recognition of every human life as sacred.

The ceasefire has given us a moment to breathe. May it also be the moment we awaken to the truth that peace without justice is merely the continuation of war by quieter means.