Trump’s Middle East Peace Plan vs My Lottery Jackpot: Which Comes First?

Place your bets on whether I’ll win the lottery before lasting peace comes to the Middle East. Spoiler: check your lottery tickets.

(Look at all these people who definitely won’t be fighting in two months’ time. Place your bets.) Image: Hindustan Times.

Why Middle East Peace Negotiations Always Fail: A Twenty-Point Peace Plan Has Worse Odds Than Winning the National Lottery.

Which do you think will come first: me winning the national lottery jackpot, or Donald Trump’s twenty-point peace plan for the Middle East being entirely fulfilled before there’s further trouble? Place your bets! Now, I realise comparing geopolitical reality to lottery odds might seem cynical, but hear me out. At least when you buy a lottery ticket, you know exactly what you’re up against—fourteen million to one, balls in a machine, cold hard mathematics. But a comprehensive peace plan for one of the world’s most intractable conflict zones being completely fulfilled without a single hitch? That’s not just unlikely; it’s asking human nature, centuries of history, and a dozen competing interests to all politely agree to behave themselves indefinitely. So forgive me if I’m already checking my lottery numbers, because frankly, those odds are starting to look pretty good.

The Nobel Peace Prize Problem: Trump’s Real Middle East Motivation.

Okay, so putting to one side that Trump has his ego-driven eye on the jewel in the crown—a Nobel Peace Prize which, should he achieve it, would see his interest in the Middle East evaporate faster than steam from a boiled kettle—let’s consider what “peace” actually means in this context. Marcus Aurelius once suggested we’d all be better off if we stopped obsessing over what our neighbours are plotting and focused instead on our own inner virtue. Lovely thought, that. Absolutely cracking advice—for a philosophy seminar. Shame it requires everyone involved to simultaneously agree to forget the last two thousand years of grievances, stop wondering whether the bloke across the border is stockpiling weapons or wedding invitations, and trust that everyone else has also read their Meditations and taken them to heart.

Why Two Thousand Years of Commandments Haven’t Brought Middle East Peace.

And speaking of two-thousand-year-old guidance that hasn’t quite taken hold—we’ve had the Ten Commandments for roughly that long, haven’t we? “Thou shalt not kill,” fairly straightforward stuff, you’d think. And yet here we are, in a region where three major religions all claim connection to those very same commandments, still working out the finer points through increasingly sophisticated weaponry. If we can’t manage ten simple rules in two millennia, what chance does a twenty-point plan have? We’re talking about a region where the very definition of “peace” is contested, where one person’s security is another’s occupation, and where every agreement comes with footnotes, caveats, and the kind of fine print that would make a solicitor weep.

Israel-Palestine Conflict Explained: Who Controls What and Why Peace Is Impossible.

So let’s take a look at the basic and very raw data of it all, shall we, and distil this into the bleeding obvious that even a ten-year-old could comprehend when explained fully. First, the geography: who rules what, and why?

Israel sits on a strip of land roughly the size of Wales—about 22,000 square kilometres, depending on whose map you’re reading and which borders they’re acknowledging this week. It’s surrounded by Lebanon to the north, Syria to the northeast, Jordan to the east, Egypt to the southwest, and the Mediterranean providing a bit of seaside relief to the west. Sounds straightforward enough, doesn’t it? Except it’s not, because sitting within and alongside an Israeli territory that is regarded as the Palestinian territories—the West Bank and Gaza Strip—which are controlled by... well, that depends on who you ask and when you’re asking. The Palestinian Authority nominally governs parts of the West Bank, though Israel maintains security control over most of it. Gaza, until very recently, was run by Hamas—a group Israel, the US, and the EU classify as a terrorist organisation, whilst others see it as a resistance movement. Egypt and Jordan have peace treaties with Israel. Lebanon and Syria don’t. Iran, which isn’t even on the border, funds various groups in the region who’d quite like Israel not to exist.

And why does everyone want this particular patch of desert and hills? Because thousands of years ago, various holy books stated that it was important, and they’ve been fighting over it ever since.

Understanding Israel-Palestine Conflict: Sovereign States vs Sovereign Nations.

Now, to break this down further: Israel is a “sovereign” state. Which, similar to our own UK—or Disunited Kingdom, depending on your viewpoint of its current state of affairs—sketches the outline of what I’m about to say next. Sovereignty, in theory, means you’re in charge of your own patch. You make the rules, you defend the borders, you decide who comes in and who doesn’t. It’s the geopolitical equivalent of “my house, my rules.” Britain’s got it. France has got it. Even Luxembourg’s got it, bless them.

Israel’s got it too—recognised by most of the world, member of the UN, the whole nine yards. But here’s where it gets interesting: the Palestinian territories are not sovereign states. They’re... well, what are they exactly? The West Bank is occupied territory under international law, though Israel disputes that terminology and prefers “disputed.” Gaza, until recently under Hamas control, has been described as an “open-air prison” by its critics and a “self-governing entity that launched thousands of rockets” by Israel. The Palestinian Authority wants sovereignty. Hamas wanted sovereignty. Israel says they can’t be trusted with sovereignty. And round and round we go.

So when we talk about a “peace plan,” we’re not talking about two equal sovereign nations sitting down for a chat over tea and biscuits. We’re talking about one sovereign state and... what? A proto-state? A territory? An occupied population? The very definition of what’s being negotiated is part of the negotiation.

Why Can’t Israel and Palestine Make Peace? The Recognition Problem Explained.

Meanwhile, those countries that surround Israel—and this is where we deep-dive into actual facts, and we all know what they are, don’t we?—this is where we hit the difference between a “sovereign state” and a “sovereign nation.” As in, I could advertise for a whole bunch of mercenaries with the same ideology as myself, launch a raid on the island of Guernsey, overthrow the current governance, and hey presto, I’ve created a sovereign nation. Congratulations to me! I’ve got land, I’ve got people (well, prisoners now, really), I’ve got a flag I knocked up on Canva, and I’ve declared myself in charge.

But am I a sovereign state? That depends entirely on whether anyone else recognises me, doesn’t it? Britain, France, Luxembourg, Jordan, Egypt—these are sovereign states because the international community agrees they are. They’ve got embassies, UN seats, passports that actually get you through airport security. Recognition matters. It’s the difference between being a country and being a bloke with a militia and some very ambitious notions.

And here’s the rub: several of Israel’s neighbours—and various groups operating within and around Israeli and Palestinian territory—fall somewhere on that spectrum between “fully recognised state” and “armed movement with territorial ambitions.” Hamas controlled Gaza, but wasn’t a state. Hezbollah operates in Lebanon, but isn’t Lebanon. The Palestinian Authority governs bits of the West Bank but isn’t recognised as a full state by everyone. Syria’s a state, but half of it’s been controlled by various factions for years.

So when Trump’s peace plan talks about bringing everyone to the table, who exactly is “everyone”?

Israel Palestine Conflict Simplified: My God vs Your God.

Well, firstly, someone has to wake up to the nitty-gritty. You know, the stuff that matters? Yes, that stuff! And here’s what we’re actually looking at: one Jewish-majority nation, Israel—gold star if you knew that without Wikipedia—sitting in a region that’s predominantly Muslim. Now, before anyone accuses me of stating the obvious, stay with me, because here’s where it gets properly absurd.

You’ve got various groups and governments in the region who’ve decided that their particular interpretation of a very old book means Israel shouldn’t exist at all. Never mind the practicalities—like the fact that several million people currently live there and might have opinions about being told to leave. Never mind that Egypt and Jordan signed peace treaties decades ago and haven’t broken them. Never mind that the UAE, Bahrain, and others recently decided normalisation was rather good for business, actually. No, what we’ve got is a situation where everyone’s claiming God’s on their side, God promised them that specific bit of land, and God apparently wants them to keep fighting about it.

The Israelis say God gave them the land three thousand years ago. The Palestinians say they were living there quite happily until 1948, thank you very much, and would like their homes back. Meanwhile, various other parties wave their own holy books around, insisting they’ve got the definitive answer, written right there in scripture, if only everyone else would just read the correct version.

It all boils down to this: my God is better than your God because my God says so. And if you think a twenty-point peace plan is going to convince anyone that their divine mandate is negotiable, I’ve got a lottery ticket to sell you.

Holy Books and Interpretation: The Real Problem With Ancient Texts.

But here’s the bit that apparently needs spelling out in crayon: what is a holy book if it isn’t someone’s interpretation of it two thousand years after it was written? It’s words on a page. Old words. Translated words. Words that have been through more hands than a fifty-quid note, each translator making their best guess at what ancient Hebrew, Aramaic, or Arabic really meant, then passing it on to scholars who spent centuries arguing about semicolons, and finally landing in the hands of people who’ve never read the whole thing but know exactly which verse justifies what they wanted to do anyway.

Every faction finds the passage that backs their claim. It’s biblical Googling—put in your conclusion first, then find the quote to support it. Israelis have their verses. Palestinians have theirs. Hamas has a whole library. Hezbollah’s got receipts. Everyone’s waving around the same basic texts, just highlighted differently, claiming divine authority for entirely opposing positions.

And we’re supposed to believe a twenty-point political document is going to trump that? Please. These people can’t agree on what God meant, and God is allegedly omnipotent and unambiguous. What chance does Donald Trump have?

Trump’s only salvation from this is that he ends up with his golden-locked head even bigger than before, and everyone else’s salvation is that he doesn’t get awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, so he keeps going for another year, doing his best to stay nominated for 2026. Because the moment that prize is in his tiny hands, photographed from every angle, displayed at Mar-a-Lago next to the gilded toilet, that’s it. Job done. Interest evaporated. The Middle East can go back to working out whose God is right, whilst Trump moves on to whatever else might get him a prize, a headline, or a chapter in the history books that doesn’t involve the word “impeachment.”

So place your bets, ladies and gentlemen. My lottery numbers versus a peace plan that requires everyone to agree their holy book might be open to interpretation, that land disputes can be settled with paperwork rather than rockets, and that Donald Trump will remain interested in something that doesn’t directly benefit Donald Trump for longer than it takes to sign the photo op.

I’m checking my tickets.

Why Middle East Peace Process Always Fails: Human Nature and Fundamentalism

And here’s the thing they don’t put in the press releases: you can get as many people around this somewhat mythical table as you like. You can have them all nodding, shaking hands, signing documents with fancy pens, proudly watching this twenty-point plan working to everyone’s satisfaction. Photographers can capture the historic moment. Diplomats can pat themselves on the back. The champagne can flow.

This lasts right up until someone—or even a group of someones—who are so rigidly embedded in and adherent to their interpretation of the original script decide they didn’t actually agree to any of this. Maybe they weren’t at the table. Maybe they were, but they’ve had a rethink. Maybe they never had any intention of honouring it in the first place and were just waiting for the cameras to leave. And then they derail the entire process. A rocket here, a settlement expansion there, an assassination, a protest that turns violent, a politician who needs to look tough for the next election. Back to square one. Reset the board. Start again.

Why, you may ask?

Because we’re all humans. And when human nature and fundamentalism kick in—when someone’s convinced that their reading of a two-thousand-year-old text is the only correct one, when they believe compromise is betrayal, when they’re more committed to being right than being alive—whatever’s in place is doomed. You can’t negotiate with certainty. You can’t compromise with “God told me so.” And you absolutely cannot build lasting peace on a foundation of “we’ll agree to this until it’s inconvenient.”

Is Middle East Peace Actually Possible? The Cycle Never Ends.

Now, brilliantly, and in typical fashion, we find ourselves weaving right back to the beginning. Because this is what happens in a media-friendly—though decidedly not Palestinian-friendly—ongoing dispute based entirely on “my God is right and yours is wrong.” We go round in circles. Peace plan announced, hope briefly flickers, something explodes (literally or metaphorically), everyone retreats to their corners, and we start the whole bloody process again. It’s Groundhog Day with rockets.

Trump announces his twenty-point plan with great fanfare. The world watches. Negotiations happen, or don’t. Something derails it—because something always derails it. And then we’re back here, asking the same question we started with: which will come first, me winning the lottery or lasting peace in the Middle East?

The answer, I’m afraid, remains unchanged. At least with the lottery, the balls keep dropping. The numbers keep coming up. Someone, somewhere, eventually wins. It might take fourteen million goes, but the mechanism works. The system delivers. Now, ain’t this an indisputable fact?

What’s Really Stopping Middle East Peace? Final Verdict on Peace Plan vs Lottery Odds.

But a peace plan that requires everyone to simultaneously abandon centuries of grudges, reinterpret their holy books, trust their enemies, and stay committed even when it’s politically inconvenient? No. This requires Trump to remain interested after the photos are taken? That needs every single faction—recognised and unrecognised, state and non-state, moderate and fundamentalist—to agree that land matters more than pride, that compromise isn’t surrender, and that maybe, just maybe, their particular interpretation of God’s will could be flexible?

I’ll take my chances with the lottery, thanks. At least those odds are honest.

So go ahead, place your bets. But I know where my money is. And it’s not on twenty points, a peace prize, or divine intervention.

It’s on six numbers and a bonus ball.

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