Donald Trump has gone bankrupt more times than most nations survive wars. His “empire” — a string of hollowed-out towers, shuttered casinos, and unpaid contractors — is a monument to illusion. Now he wants to roll those same instincts into the Middle East, pitching a “20-point Peace Plan” like it’s another Trump-branded resort on the Mediterranean.
Israel should know better.
Because every Trump venture starts the same way: big talk, big promises, big gold letters — and ends in court filings, unpaid bills, and other people cleaning up the mess.
The pattern is unmistakable.
Trump Airlines, bankrupt.
Trump Vodka, bankrupt.
Trump Steaks, bankrupt.
Trump University, sued into oblivion.
Trump Taj Mahal, Trump Plaza, Trump Castle — all bankrupt.
And now, if Israel isn’t careful, Trump Peace will be next on the list.
The sales pitch never changes. Trump arrives with swagger, declares himself the only man who can fix everything, and dazzles the room with promises of “tremendous success.” Then come the debts, the defaults, the denials.
This time the stakes aren’t unpaid electricians or stiffed architects. This time, the “investors” are Israel’s soldiers, families, and children. The collateral is the safety of the Jewish state.
Trump’s 20 points sound like they were drafted in the boardroom of a bankrupt casino: all marble and mirrors, but no structure underneath. A “historic” deal, a “once-in-a-century” opportunity — he always says that. The showmanship hides the bankruptcy of substance.
Like his Atlantic City casinos, the plan glitters until the first bomb goes off.
For decades, Trump sold himself as the “King of the Deal.” But his real art was the art of the bankruptcy — walking away before the collapse, leaving investors holding the bag. He called it “smart business.”
That’s what Israel risks becoming: the latest bagholder in Trump’s long trail of “smart business.”
Trump thinks peace is a real estate closing. Sign the papers, pose for the cameras, shake a few hands, declare victory. But the Middle East doesn’t forgive unpaid moral debts. When the photo ops end and the rockets begin, Trump will shrug and say, “It was a beautiful deal — until the Israelis ruined it.”
He’s done it a hundred times before.
Ask the bankers in Atlantic City who trusted his spreadsheets. Ask the students who paid for “Trump University.” Ask the bondholders of Trump Plaza. Ask anyone who thought “The Donald” ever stayed to finish what he started.
The moment the math turns ugly, Trump vanishes.
Trump is a master of illusion. His casinos were built to make losers feel like winners — at least until the lights went out. His politics work the same way. He tells Israelis they’re winning, that the Arabs are lining up to sign peace deals, that “everyone loves Israel” now. But it’s just the casino glow before the collapse.
Reality doesn’t sparkle. The Iranian regime still funds terror across the region. Hezbollah’s rockets still aim at Haifa. Hamas still builds tunnels under Gaza. And the so-called “Arab moderates” still whisper that Israel is the problem.
Peace isn’t built on press releases. It’s built on truth. And Trump’s record with truth is as bankrupt as his balance sheet.
The Rambam warned that false peace — shalom shel sheker — is more dangerous than open war. Trump’s plan reeks of false peace: a deal designed to look like success while quietly mortgaging Israel’s security to unstable regimes and temporary applause.
In the 1980s, Trump turned Atlantic City into a circus of self-promotion. He built gaudy palaces with names like “Taj Mahal” and “Castle,” promising jobs, glory, and endless profit. Within a few years, they were all bankrupt. Thousands lost livelihoods. Trump walked away richer in fame, poorer in everything else.
Israel cannot afford that cycle.
Ben-Gurion didn’t build the Jewish state by chasing photo ops. He built it by defying the world, standing alone when necessary. When Eisenhower threatened sanctions in 1956, Ben-Gurion didn’t blink. He understood that Jewish survival isn’t a “deal” — it’s a destiny. Trump, by contrast, mistakes attention for achievement. His “Peace Plan” isn’t about Israel’s future — it’s about Trump’s next headline.
Like every Trump venture, the debts will come due — and Israel will be asked to pay them. In lost deterrence. In emboldened enemies. In the false comfort of promises written on the back of a bankrupt man’s business card.
Trump’s entire career is a warning label: he bankrupts everything he touches — except his own ego.
He’s bankrupted companies, casinos, and truth itself. Now he wants to try peace.
Israel must walk away from this table before he flips it. Because when the cards are down and the cameras off, Trump will walk away — just as he always has — leaving others to pay for his performance.
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