Indonesia’s Diplomatic Tightrope: Navigating Gaza’s Postwar Security Plan
Indonesia takes center stage in the complex diplomatic dance over Gaza’s future. The country’s unexpected rise to prominence is fueled by its peacekeeping credentials, Muslim-majority status, and rare ability to bridge divides. This shift gained momentum after the UN Security Council’s unanimous vote on a US-drafted Gaza plan, endorsed by President Trump.
The resolution establishes an International Stabilization Force and a ‘Peace Board’ chaired by President Trump, tasked with guiding Gaza’s reconstruction. Russia and China’s abstention, without a veto, indicates a widespread desire for an external actor to lead, free from regional rivalries.
Indonesia, the world’s fourth most populous country and home to the largest Muslim population, is Washington and Arab governments’ preferred choice. Months ago, Jakarta began preparations, considering humanitarian and peacekeeping roles in Gaza, with a potential force of up to 20,000 soldiers, focusing on medical and construction capabilities.
But here’s where it gets controversial: Indonesia’s readiness is questioned. Critics argue that the country’s internal planning is inadequate, with little public debate on the Gaza mission. President Prabowo Subianto’s diplomatic efforts contrast starkly with the lack of detailed plans, relying heavily on personal relationships rather than institutional preparation.
And this is the part most people miss: the risks are high. Indonesian troops would navigate a complex security environment, facing armed Palestinian factions, Israeli military operations, and potential misunderstandings with US forces. The situation is further complicated by Indonesia’s domestic politics, where anti-Israel sentiments are strong, and the public largely views the conflict through the lens of Palestinian suffering.
Indonesia’s challenge is to position itself as a neutral broker. Hamas rejects the UN plan as an imposition of ‘international guardianship,’ while the Palestinian Authority sees it as a first step, but with major issues unresolved. Arab governments support the stabilization mission in principle but hesitate to deploy their troops, fearing backlash from Palestinian fighters and the broader Arab world.
For the US, Indonesia’s involvement fits a strategic pattern, avoiding large-scale troop commitments. However, Israel insists on US oversight and effective veto power, complicating the command structure. The mission’s true nature is also debated; some argue it’s not peacekeeping but a war-fighting mandate to disarm Hamas.
Inside Gaza, the postwar landscape is complex. While Hamas is weakened, other armed factions remain active. Indonesia’s advantage lies in its positive image among Palestinians, having no relations with Israel and supporting Palestine diplomatically. However, legitimacy is fragile, and any mission perceived as serving outside agendas will face immediate challenges.
Indonesia’s unique contribution may be its robust Muslim civil society, offering an alternative to Hamas’s ideology. Yet, this requires direct cooperation with Israel, creating a Catch-22: Indonesia needs progress on Palestinian statehood for diplomatic relations, but its most valuable contribution depends on working with Israel.
The command structure remains a sticking point, with Indonesia seeking UN authorization and operational independence, while Israel demands US oversight. The role of Palestinian institutions in governing Gaza and coordinating with the international force is unclear.
As expectations rise, Indonesia’s own uncertainties persist. Its troops have UN peacekeeping experience in stable environments, but Gaza’s active combat zone and potential hostility present new challenges. The question remains: will Indonesia genuinely consult Palestinians and address their needs, or impose an external solution? The success of its role in Gaza’s future hinges on this delicate balance.