The Gaza International Transitional Authority (GITA), as sketched publicly this week, is being sold as a technocratic bridge from war to “stability.” But what it actually proposes, an externally imposed governing board chaired by an outsider, a temporary multinational force, and donor-driven or investors’ redevelopment models conceived by global consulting firms and think tank insights, reads less like liberation than like a modern trusteeship.
This is not a solution that secures Palestinians’ dignity or their right to self-determination; it is a replay of colonial governance under a new brand.
Proponents argue GITA is pragmatic: it would disarm Hamas, coordinate reconstruction, and hand authority back to a reformed Palestinian Authority after a transition. Yet the plan’s architecture, a supreme “Governing Board” with binding authority, initially operating from abroad and answerable to the UN Security Council, effectively places Gaza under external administration for up to five years.
That is not neutral administration; it is political sovereignty ceded to an international elite, with Palestinians reduced to beneficiaries rather than authors of their fate. Historical analogues are not comforting: transitional administrations like UNMIK in Kosovo or UNTAET in East Timor were outwardly well-intentioned but have been repeatedly critiqued for producing a legitimacy deficit and for sidelining indigenous political agency during the very period when domestic institutions matter most. There, there were no such intentions of throwing indigenous people out with no return prospectives.
The personalities and institutions behind GITA deepen the problem. Tony Blair’s name, central to the proposal as reported, will not reassure many Palestinians who recall how externally imposed solutions have served other geopolitical aims. Meanwhile, the plan’s techno-commercial instincts, including “smart city” fantasies and donor-modelled incentives that sound suspiciously like market-engineered population management, reflect the imprint of global consulting networks rather than popular consultation.
Recent reporting ties Tony Blair’s institute and major consultancies to redevelopment projects for Gaza that were criticised as imagining large-scale relocation and investor-driven urban remaking. Those associations help explain why the great majority of Palestinians view the proposal as illegitimate and why civil society activists call it “colonial” in tone and intent.
There is a deeper moral and legal problem, too. The centrality of an international board and the prospect of conditional “handover” reproduce the paternalistic logic of trusteeship: “we will govern you until you are ready.” That calculus sounds dangerously like the denial of a people’s right to chart their own political future. Self-determination is not an optional perfume added to reconstruction, it is the normative core of any just settlement.
International law and practice have long recognised that post-conflict assistance must be enabled by, and accountable to, local political actors; when it is not, international missions risk creating dependency, delegitimising local leadership, and fuelling resistance that prolongs instability rather than resolving it.
Even if Palestinians were pressured or induced to accept such an arrangement, the Geneva Conventions make clear that such consent is void in law. The protections remain intact, and any plan that diminishes them would constitute a violation of international humanitarian law and fundamental human rights. Any imposed governance structure, particularly one designed externally and without free Palestinian consent, would violate Articles 7, 8, and 47 of the Fourth Geneva Convention, as Palestinians cannot lawfully be deprived of or coerced into renouncing their protections.
It would potentially breach Article 49, if “voluntary” relocation schemes amount to disguised population transfer under conditions of duress. It would also contradict the principle of self-determination under human rights law, rendering the legitimacy of such an authority fundamentally flawed.
Also, practical objections follow. Who vets the “independent Palestinian technocrats” tasked with running ministries? Who guarantees the neutrality of a multinational “security” force whose political patrons include enemies of Palestinian aspirations? How are property “tokens” and relocation grants designed to avoid coercion or economic extortion? These are not academic questions; they speak to everyday rights, to stay in your home, to return if you leave, to elect your leaders. When donor-driven designs treat people as variables in development models, they risk institutionalising dispossession under the label of “development.”
If the international community truly wants a just, stable Gaza, the starting point must be the decolonisation of the process itself. That means four non-negotiables.
First, any interim arrangements must be Palestinian-led. The Palestinian Authority, reformed and credibly inclusive, should have primacy in governance planning; where local governance structures in Gaza need rebuilding, international actors should play a supportive, accountable role, not a substitutive one. Recent statements from Palestinian leaders show readiness to engage in UN-led processes; sidelining them will only deepen fractures and feed the narrative of foreign imposition. A reform that does not mean what Israel wants, as stated by the UK Prime Minister two days ago.
Second, reconstruction must be rights-based, not market-driven. Reconstruction financing should attach unconditional guarantees: preservation of property rights, non-coercive return policies, transparent procurement with civil society oversight, and strict prevention of profiteering through land grabs or investor enclaves. Philanthropic and state donors should pool funds under internationally recognised and engineered mechanisms and a special fund with international audits — assistance, not trusteeship.
Third, security arrangements must prioritise demilitarisation anchored in Palestinian reconciliation, not occupation-style control masked as “stabilisation.” Disarming the resistance groups is legitimate only when tied to a political process that restores accountable local policing and judicial remedies, overseen by mechanisms that include Palestinian representation.
Fourth, justice and accountability cannot be postponed. Reconstruction without credible investigation into wartime abuses is an affront to victims and a recipe for recurring violence. International support must link rebuilding to reparative measures and independent accountability processes.
GITA’s authors may argue that technocratic distance is necessary after devastating conflict. But history warns otherwise: distance breeds distrust. External architects who shortcut Palestinian leadership risk exporting a brittle settlement that will not hold. The test for any post-war plan is not whether it can be administered efficiently from afar, but whether it equips Palestinians, politically, economically and legally, to reclaim their destiny. A durable peace in Gaza/Palestine must be built with Palestinians, not built on them.
The way forward must centre the Palestinian voice, not silence it under external management. It is also essential to recognise the constructive regional role of Egypt and neighbouring Arab states, who are directly tied to Gaza’s security, economy, and humanitarian survival.
Egypt, in particular, has consistently carried the burden of mediation and border management, and its leadership, alongside Qatar and other Arab partners, is indispensable for a plan that is both legitimate and sustainable. What Gaza needs is not another colonial trusteeship dressed in technocratic garb, but a framework that restores Palestinian ownership while anchoring regional actors in a supportive, empowering role. Only then can any vision for Gaza move from imposed blueprint to authentic, lasting peace.
*The writer is Professor of Diplomatic and International Law and Former Head of Regional Office of UNOCHA for the MENA region
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