Israeli fighter jets struck Hamas targets in the Nuseirat and Deir al-Balah areas of Gaza, the IDF stated, even as the United States pushed forward with a ceasefire initiative that has exposed sharp divisions between Washington and Jerusalem. The strikes killed at least four people in Gaza, according to Reuters, while President Trump announced what he called a "major milestone" toward implementing a Gaza peace plan agreed to in October, with Hamas set to disarm.

A ceasefire is a formal agreement to stop fighting, typically as a step toward broader negotiations. A disarmament plan, in this context, would require Hamas to give up its weapons — something the group has long refused to do.

The timing laid bare the gap between diplomatic framing and operational reality. Trump declared that talks had reached a "historic" deal for Hamas to disarm. Yet on the ground, Israeli strikes continued, and an Israeli minister said there was no deal to halt them. A spokesperson for Netanyahu's office told Reuters that Israel had expressed concerns to the U.S. about the Hamas disarmament plan, signaling that the Israeli government is not aligned with a core element of the American proposal.

Israeli skepticism hardened publicly on Sunday. Energy Minister Eli Cohen voiced doubts about the disarmament plan on Israel's Army Radio, according to Time, joining a chorus of officials questioning whether the framework advanced by Washington addresses Israel's security requirements. A spokesperson for Netanyahu's office had already confirmed to Reuters that Israel raised concerns directly with the United States about the plan's provisions for Hamas disarmament.

The IDF's own account of the strikes frames them within a broader escalatory posture. In February, the military stated it had begun striking Hamas targets across the Gaza Strip in response to what it called a "blatant violation of the ceasefire agreement." That characterization positioned the current campaign as a resumption rather than a new operation. The IDF also states it uses phone calls, text messages, leaflets, and roof knocking — the practice of firing a small missile at a building's roof as a final warning — to warn civilians before strikes, though the toll from the recent attacks points to the difficulty of reducing casualties in densely populated areas.

Al Jazeera reported that Israel escalated its Gaza attacks and pushed hardline demands, threatening the U.S.-backed peace roadmap. The framing from regional media contrasts with the Trump administration's characterization of progress, reflecting the extent to which the same events are being read differently by the parties involved.

The broader context here is a fragile diplomatic architecture under simultaneous stress from multiple directions. Trump's October peace plan, now described as reaching a milestone, includes Hamas disarmament as a central plank. Hamas's reported willingness to disarm, if confirmed in practice, would amount to a fundamental shift in the group's posture since the conflict reignited. But that word "if" carries enormous weight. Disarmament has been a red line for Hamas in prior negotiations, and the mechanisms for verification, sequencing, and security guarantees remain undefined in public accounts. Israeli officials are not questioning whether disarmament is desirable in the abstract; they are questioning whether the plan as presented can deliver it in a way that does not leave Israel exposed.

There is also a structural tension in the U.S.-Israel dynamic that the current episode makes visible. Washington is pursuing a diplomatic outcome on a timeline shaped by its own political imperatives, while Jerusalem retains operational discretion on the ground — the authority to decide when and where to strike. Think of it as two drivers in the same car, one steering toward a negotiated destination and the other keeping a foot on the accelerator. The strikes in Nuseirat and Deir al-Balah are not a sideshow to the peace plan; they are a live test of whether the parties can align military action with diplomatic commitments. So far, the evidence points in opposite directions. Trump is describing a breakthrough. Israeli officials are describing a process that does not yet include a ceasefire, does not command their confidence, and may not survive contact with the operational realities they face.

For observers tracking the trajectory of this conflict, the critical question is not whether a deal on paper exists but whether the parties with the capacity to implement it or to derail it — Israel, Hamas, and the United States — are converging or diverging. The current record suggests divergence. Israel is escalating strikes, expressing concerns about the plan, and casting doubt through cabinet ministers. The United States is declaring progress. And civilians in Gaza are caught between a diplomatic process that has not stopped the bombing and a military campaign whose endpoint remains undefined.