The “Board of Peace” in Davos

Promise, Politics, and the Test of Implementation

[CIM/BofP]

On January 22, 2026, President Donald Trump used the World Economic Forum in Davos to inaugurate a new initiative he calls the “Board of Peace,” presenting it as a conflict-resolution body ambitious enough to rival existing multilateral mechanisms. The unveiling was paired with an explicit focus on Gaza: sustaining a ceasefire, supporting a transitional governance concept, and accelerating reconstruction discussions with a growing list of participating states.

For practitioners of mediation and conflict management, the launch is worth taking seriously without romanticizing it. New mechanisms can sometimes unlock stalled diplomacy, create political cover for compromise, and mobilize resources faster than legacy institutions. Yet novelty alone is not a substitute for legitimacy, and speed often produces design flaws that later prove fatal. The Board’s prospects will be determined less by its rhetoric and more by its structure, incentives, and follow-through.

Why the Board could matter

The strongest case for the Board of Peace is pragmatic. Institutional gridlock is real, and many conflicts now move faster than traditional diplomacy. If the Board becomes a disciplined platform that coordinates ceasefire monitoring, humanitarian access, and reconstruction sequencing, it could reduce duplication and create clearer lines of responsibility among donors and implementers. In protracted crises, clarity is not a bureaucratic luxury; it is an operational necessity.

There is also a geopolitical argument. A number of states feel underrepresented in established forums or view them as too slow, too constrained, or too politically burdened to deliver results. An alternative platform, if it remains genuinely inclusive and technically competent, can sometimes function as a bridging table between Western power, regional stakeholders, and emerging actors. That is particularly relevant in Gaza, where any durable arrangement will require coordination across security, governance, finance, humanitarian operations, and the political constraints of multiple capitals.

A third potential benefit is implementation. Peace processes do not collapse only because of bad faith. They collapse because of weak scaffolding: unclear authority, delayed financing, fragmented messaging, and leaders who sign statements while avoiding hard decisions. A properly designed Board could help close that gap by setting measurable milestones, aligning donor commitments to realistic timelines, and maintaining sustained attention beyond the first news cycle.

The risks that could undermine it

The skepticism begins with governance and legitimacy. Any new body operating in a contested diplomatic space must answer basic questions: Who appoints its leadership? Who sets its agenda? What standards guide its decisions? How are disputes resolved? Without clear answers, the Board risks being perceived as a political vehicle rather than a neutral mechanism—an image that would make buy-in from key stakeholders difficult, especially in conflicts where trust is already scarce.

A second risk is mission creep and institutional rivalry. Peace efforts require coordination, not competition. If the Board frames itself as a replacement for existing institutions rather than a complement, it may trigger defensive reactions from governments and multilateral organizations whose cooperation is needed for the very tasks the Board seeks to advance. Parallel tracks can quickly become parallel failures: multiple authorities issuing different guidance, competing funding pipelines, and contradictory political messaging.

Third is the problem of consent and enforceability. No ceasefire mechanism can succeed without credible verification and consequences for violations. If principal parties see the Board as aligned with one side’s political goals, or if it lacks operational access, its monitoring function may devolve into a platform for accusations rather than a tool for stabilization. Gaza is not a laboratory for institutional experimentation; it is a crisis in which design errors carry human costs.

Fourth is reputational risk and politicization. Peace initiatives tend to succeed when they are boringly procedural: clear mandates, transparent criteria, and predictable standards applied consistently. They tend to fail when personalities become the institution and headlines become the strategy. If the Board’s credibility becomes dependent on domestic political cycles or selective application of principles, it will lose authority quickly among those whose cooperation is indispensable.

A balanced hope: measure it by outputs, not slogans

The Board of Peace could become a useful coordinating mechanism—particularly if it prioritizes civilian protection, humanitarian access, credible verification, and reconstruction sequencing tied to measurable security and governance arrangements. It could also become another forum that produces announcements without durable implementation. The difference will not be decided in Davos. It will be decided in the operational details: who governs, who funds, who verifies, who has standing, and what happens when commitments are broken.

From a mediation perspective, the standard should be simple. Does this initiative reduce violence, expand protections for civilians, and create a realistic pathway to governance arrangements that can endure? If it does, it deserves cautious support and serious engagement. If it does not, it will join a long list of initiatives that promised peace but delivered only process.

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