By Philip C. Johnson, writing from Rome, Italy
October 15, 2025—The world held its breath as the Peace 2025 Summit in Sharm El-Sheikh, Egypt, on October 13, birthed a ceasefire heralded as a “historic dawn” by U.S. President Donald Trump. With signatures from Egyptian President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, Qatar’s Emir Tamim bin Hamad Al Thani, and Turkey’s Recep Tayyip Erdogan, the deal aimed to end the brutal two-year Gaza war sparked by Hamas’s October 7, 2023, attack—1,200 Israelis killed, 251 hostages taken. Israel’s relentless retaliation left over 67,000 Palestinians dead (according to Hamas authorities) and Gaza in ruins. But behind the fanfare, behind the photo shoots, and despite the hype, cracks already threaten to shatter this fragile peace. Anyone familiar with this region’s history should not be surprised.
A Deal Born Under Pressure
The summit, mediated by Qatar, Egypt, and the U.S., followed Trump’s September 29, 2025, 20-point Gaza peace plan, pushed by desperate Arab states and anguished hostage families. Phase 1 delivered: a ceasefire, the release of all 20 living Israeli hostages for 2,000 Palestinian prisoners (a stark 100-to-1 exchange rate), a partial Israeli withdrawal, and a trickle of aid trucks. Scenes of tearful reunions in Tel Aviv and Khan Younis briefly drowned out Gaza’s grief. Fewer bombs mean quieter nights for 2 million residents, and UN chief António Guterres called it a “profound relief.” But backstage, whispers of betrayal and bad faith paint a darker picture.
Cracks in the Ceasefire
Just one day after the agreement, on October 14, the truce began to fray. Israeli drones struck Gaza City’s Shujayea neighborhood, killing nine Palestinians—locals say they were civilians checking their destroyed homes. Israel says they were security threats. On another sticking point, President Trump, visibly angry, pointed out a major issue: only eight of the 28 deceased hostages’ bodies were returned, leaving 20 still unaccounted for. “This deal is falling short,” he declared, threatening to cut aid from 600 trucks a day to just 300. The Rafah border crossing, only partially open, restricts aid to a trickle, keeping Gaza under a near-siege. Israel still holds 53% of the Strip, and Prime Minister Netanyahu’s coalition, backed by hardline settlers, resists a full pullout. Without a clear enforcement mechanism, U.S. assurances of stability ring hollow. And after the horrific loss of so many innocent lives back on October 7, 2023, it would seem to Israel’s leaders, a senseless idea to leave the job of destroying Hamas unfinished.
Hamas’s Defiant Underbelly
Behind closed doors, Hamas’s new leader, Muhammad Sinwar, brother of the slain Yahya, orchestrates from Rafah’s tunnels. Yes, tunnels not yet destroyed by Israel’s constant efforts. Hamas’s charter, unyielding, demands Israel’s destruction, viewing armed resistance as divine. Public executions of “collaborators” expose brutal internal purges to maintain control. Only half the hostages and bodies have been returned, and October 14’s attacks scream defiance. Phase 1 looks like a tactical wins—freed hostages, silenced guns—but it crumbles against Phase 2’s impossible ask: disarming Hamas. “Surrender is annihilation,” a leaked Hamas memo chillingly states.
The Edge of Collapse
Today, October 15, all eyes are on Hamas’s promised body handover. Delays could unleash Israeli strikes, as Netanyahu vows no exit without Hamas’s disarmament—a nonstarter. Aid is the lifeline: 600 trucks daily and a fully open Rafah border could ease famine; anything less risks starvation and riots. Israeli protests against withdrawal and Hamas’s purges of any Palestinian group that they believe cooperated with Israel, or even groups that might provide new leadership to Gaza, threaten new clashes. Iran’s proxies—the Houthis, Hezbollah—what in the shadows, testing the truce with drones. Past ceasefires collapsed in weeks; Phase 2 talks loom in Doha (Qatar) by November, but without U.S. troops or UN peacekeepers, this feels like 2023’s false hopes reborn. As one Gaza resident whispered to reporters, “This isn’t peace—it’s a pause before the next storm.”
The Global Nexter 