Donald Trump’s ‘Board of Peace’ is reshaping global diplomacy outside the UN system. Who is in, who stayed out, and why does it matter?
Donald Trump’s announcement of a new international body he calls the “Board of Peace” has reopened a long-running debate about how global conflicts should be managed, who gets to decide peace, and whether traditional institutions like the United Nations are losing relevance. Unveiled during high-profile meetings with business and political leaders and later detailed through U.S. officials and diplomatic briefings reported by Reuters and the Associated Press, the initiative presents itself as a pragmatic, results-driven alternative to what Trump has repeatedly described as slow, politicised, and ineffective multilateral systems. At the same time, its selective membership and informal legal standing have raised concerns among diplomats, analysts, and governments that chose not to participate.
According to Reuters, the Board of Peace is structured as a compact group of countries and appointed figures tasked with conflict mediation, ceasefire supervision, and post-conflict reconstruction oversight, beginning with Gaza but with ambitions that stretch far beyond a single theatre of war. Unlike the UN Security Council, it has no permanent charter rooted in international law, no universal membership, and no veto system. Supporters argue this flexibility allows faster decision-making, while critics say it risks bypassing established norms and accountability mechanisms. The list of who joined and who stayed out offers a revealing snapshot of current global alignments.
Countries that have confirmed participation include Saudi Arabia, Turkey, Egypt, Jordan, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, Pakistan, Indonesia, Azerbaijan, Hungary, Argentina, Morocco, Kazakhstan, Kosovo, Armenia, Uzbekistan, Paraguay, Vietnam, Albania, and Bulgaria, according to multiple Reuters dispatches published in January 2026. Many of these states maintain either close strategic ties with Washington, pragmatic transactional relationships with Trump personally, or a desire to gain influence in shaping post-conflict arrangements in the Middle East. For Gulf states such as Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and the UAE, involvement provides a seat at the table in discussions about Gaza’s reconstruction and regional security while maintaining leverage with Washington. Turkey’s participation reflects its long-standing ambition to be recognised as a central diplomatic broker between East and West.
Pakistan’s decision to join, confirmed by officials cited by Reuters, fits within its broader strategy of balancing relations with the United States, China, and the Muslim world. Participation offers diplomatic visibility without requiring formal commitments comparable to UN peacekeeping mandates. Indonesia, the world’s largest Muslim-majority country, has framed its involvement as consistent with its traditional emphasis on mediation and non-alignment, while Central Asian states appear motivated by the opportunity to strengthen bilateral ties with Washington and diversify their diplomatic portfolios.
On the executive side, Trump chairs the Board himself, with U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio playing a central operational role. High-profile figures such as former British prime minister Tony Blair, businessman and envoy Steve Witkoff, and World Bank president Ajay Banga have been named in advisory or oversight capacities, according to reporting by the Financial Times and AP News. Their inclusion underscores the hybrid nature of the initiative, blending state power, personal diplomacy, and global finance. Supporters argue this mix reflects the realities of modern conflict resolution, where money, reconstruction, and political guarantees are deeply intertwined.
Yet the list of absentees is just as telling. France, the United Kingdom, Norway, Sweden, and Slovenia have either formally declined invitations or publicly distanced themselves from the project, citing concerns about legitimacy, duplication of existing institutions, and unclear accountability. The Associated Press reported that several European governments privately questioned whether participation would undermine the UN’s authority or set a precedent for ad-hoc bodies driven by the preferences of a single power. Canada’s brief appearance on early invitation lists ended abruptly after public criticism from its leadership, with the invitation later withdrawn, a move widely reported by the Financial Times as emblematic of the initiative’s personalised and transactional character.
Major powers including China, Russia, India, and Germany have so far neither joined nor formally rejected the Board. Diplomatic sources quoted by Reuters suggest these states are watching closely while avoiding endorsement of a framework that could dilute their influence in existing multilateral forums. For Beijing and Moscow, both permanent members of the UN Security Council, the Board represents a potential challenge to structures where they wield formal veto power. India’s caution reflects its preference for strategic autonomy and its sensitivity to initiatives perceived as U.S.-centric.
The European Union as a bloc has not endorsed the Board, with EU officials emphasising continued support for UN-led processes and international law. This divergence highlights a growing transatlantic rift over how global order should be managed. While Washington under Trump emphasises speed, leverage, and deal-making, many European capitals continue to prioritise rules-based systems, even when those systems deliver slow or imperfect outcomes.
From a legal perspective, the Board of Peace occupies a grey zone. It is not a treaty-based organisation, nor does it derive authority from the UN Charter. International law experts quoted by Al Jazeera have noted that while states are free to form ad-hoc coalitions and mediation groups, the Board’s decisions carry no binding legal force unless implemented through bilateral or multilateral agreements. This limits its formal authority but does not necessarily diminish its practical impact, especially if powerful states choose to act on its recommendations.
The question of whether the Board undermines or complements existing institutions remains contested. Trump and his allies argue that the UN has failed to prevent or resolve major conflicts and that alternative mechanisms are not only justified but necessary. Critics counter that parallel structures risk fragmenting global governance and allowing powerful actors to cherry-pick rules. The inclusion of wealthy donors and private sector figures has also sparked debate about the role of money in peacebuilding, particularly given reports, covered by AP News, that participation and influence may be linked to financial commitments for reconstruction.
For the United States itself, the Board represents both an assertion of leadership and a gamble. On one hand, it reinforces Washington’s central role in shaping diplomatic agendas and offers Trump a visible platform to claim progress on conflicts that have defied resolution for decades. On the other, it risks alienating allies who view the initiative as unilateral and undermining shared institutions. Analysts at the Council on Foreign Relations have warned that if the Board is seen as bypassing international law, it could weaken U.S. credibility in advocating for rules-based order elsewhere.
Domestic reaction within the U.S. has been mixed. Supporters praise the initiative as bold and innovative, aligning with Trump’s long-standing critique of multilateral bureaucracy. Skeptics, including some former diplomats, caution that sustainable peace requires inclusive processes and legal foundations, not just high-profile deals. Congressional oversight remains limited, as the Board operates largely through executive authority and informal agreements, raising questions about transparency and accountability.
Looking ahead, the Board’s effectiveness will likely depend less on its membership list and more on tangible outcomes. If it succeeds in facilitating ceasefires, coordinating reconstruction funding, or reducing violence in specific contexts, scepticism may soften. Failure, however, would reinforce criticisms that it is more symbolic than substantive. The absence of key global players means that any durable settlement reached under its auspices would still require broader international endorsement.
In geopolitical terms, the Board of Peace reflects a wider shift toward flexible, interest-based coalitions in an increasingly multipolar world. States are weighing the benefits of access and influence against concerns about legitimacy and precedent. For some, joining is a calculated bet on proximity to U.S. power. For others, staying out is a statement in defence of established norms. Neither choice is purely ideological; both are rooted in pragmatic assessments of national interest.
Whether the Board evolves into a lasting institution or fades as another short-lived diplomatic experiment will depend on how it navigates these tensions. For now, it stands as a clear marker of Trump’s approach to global affairs: sceptical of tradition, confident in deal-making, and willing to reshape the architecture of diplomacy to fit his vision. In doing so, it has forced governments around the world to answer a simple but consequential question: join, watch from the sidelines, or resist.
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