The proposed Board of Peace under President Donald Trump is moving from concept to implementation. Its first major gathering in the United States on February 19 signals that what once appeared to be a headline-grabbing diplomatic idea is evolving into an operational entity. For Indonesia — invited to participate and now weighing its level of commitment — this is a consequential moment.

The Board of Peace is not structured like a conventional international organization. It is highly personalized, centered on a single political figure. That design feature lies at the heart of Indonesia’s dilemma.

The key question is straightforward: Should Indonesia allocate scarce public resources to secure permanent membership in an organization whose long-term survival, governance model, and leadership remain uncertain?

Understanding the Board of Peace
Trump initially proposed the Board of Peace as part of a broader plan tied to rehabilitation and ceasefire efforts in Gaza. Since then, according to its charter, it has positioned itself as a global peacebuilding body with ambitions comparable to established multilateral institutions. Its stated objectives are broad: promoting stability and peace in conflict zones worldwide.

Membership, however, is by invitation. Countries may join for a three-year term. Permanent membership requires a $1 billion capital contribution — creating a clear two-tier structure between temporary and permanent members.

The charter designates Trump as the first chairman and grants sweeping authority: the power to invite members, veto decisions, amend rules, and appoint his successor. Such concentration of authority diverges sharply from the rules-based, shared-governance principles underpinning most enduring international institutions. Rather than a multilateral framework grounded in institutional checks and balances, the Board resembles a centralized executive body with a global brand.

The Gaza Question
In Indonesia, two major Muslim organizations have voiced support for joining, citing solidarity with Palestine. Yet the charter itself makes no specific reference to Gaza, despite the initiative’s public framing as part of post-conflict recovery.

Instead, the document criticizes existing international institutions as inefficient and dependent, while granting the Board broad latitude to intervene globally. This distinction is significant. Under Trump’s leadership, the initiative appears focused on building an alternative diplomatic platform rather than executing a clearly defined post-war reconstruction program.

Moreover, the governance model raises further concerns. Any member state may withdraw at any time. Permanent members — those contributing $1 billion or more — are exempt from certain conditions applied to temporary members. While the organization claims legal rights and protections comparable to established international bodies, its operational direction remains closely tied to Trump’s personal authority.

Indonesia’s Strategic and Fiscal Stakes
For Indonesia, permanent membership would cost $1 billion — approximately Rp 16.8 trillion. That sum is equivalent to a major infrastructure project or a large-scale social investment.

At a time of fiscal constraint and domestic economic challenges, committing Rp16.8 trillion to an institution with an untested governance model entails opportunity costs. Funds allocated to permanent membership would not be available for social protection, healthcare, food security, or infrastructure development.

Beyond the fiscal calculus lies a structural risk. The chairperson’s authority to appoint successors, control membership, and exercise veto power embeds personal control at the heart of the institution. International organizations endure because they distribute authority and outlast individual leaders. By contrast, the Board’s legitimacy and direction are explicitly tied to Trump.

This linkage introduces political uncertainty. While Trump retains strong support among segments of the US electorate, his political trajectory remains subject to domestic dynamics. An international body whose credibility and continuity depend heavily on one leader’s standing carries inherent volatility.

Additional scrutiny surrounding Trump’s alleged business interests during his presidency further complicates the picture. Perceptions — fair or otherwise — of blurred lines between political leadership and private financial interests could affect the Board’s legitimacy. Member states risk reputational exposure if the initiative becomes entangled in controversies unrelated to peacebuilding.

A Calibrated Middle Path
Indonesia need not reject engagement outright. In diplomacy, total disengagement is rarely strategic. However, engagement does not require immediate capital commitment.

The Board offers a three-year temporary membership option. This provides Indonesia with flexibility: maintaining constructive relations with Washington, monitoring institutional development, and contributing to peace initiatives—without committing Rp16.8 trillion upfront.

Should the Board evolve into a stable, transparent, and genuinely multilateral institution, deeper participation could be reconsidered. There is no strategic advantage in rushing toward permanent status.

Indonesia’s foreign policy tradition emphasizes pragmatic multilateralism, fiscal prudence, and strategic autonomy. Preserving budgetary flexibility amid economic headwinds is not hesitation—it is sound statecraft.

In international diplomacy, enthusiasm must be tempered by institutional realism. Indonesia can support peace initiatives while safeguarding its economic interests and political independence. At this juncture, committing $1 billion to a still-evolving institution appears less like visionary diplomacy and more like an avoidable gamble.

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Didin Nasirudin is a doctoral candidate in Political Communication and Diplomacy at Sahid University, with a research focus on US politics.

The views expressed in this article are those of the author.

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