In a year marked by global turbulence and political spectacle, the Nobel Peace Prize has landed at the center of a storm—one that’s as much about optics and alliances as it is about the ideals of peace itself. On October 15, 2025, the Norwegian Nobel Committee awarded its highest honor to Venezuelan opposition leader María Corina Machado, citing her “tireless work promoting democratic rights and her struggle to achieve a just and peaceful transition from dictatorship to democracy,” according to The Philippine Daily Inquirer. The decision, while lauded by many as a victory for democracy, sparked a cascade of reactions that exposed the shifting sands beneath the world’s most prestigious peace accolade.
Machado’s recognition comes after years of relentless activism against Venezuela’s authoritarian regime. Her supporters, both at home and abroad, have long pointed to her courage in the face of threats and repression. But what truly set this year’s ceremony apart was not just the honoree, but the swirl of political theater that followed. Upon receiving the prize, Machado publicly thanked US President Donald Trump for his “decisive support”—a move that immediately set tongues wagging and Twitter feeds ablaze.
Trump, who had made no secret of his desire to win the Nobel Peace Prize himself, wasted no time in responding. He congratulated Machado, reposted her praise, and then took to social media to declare that the Nobel Prize had “lost credibility.” It was, as The Daily Star/Asia News Network put it, “the self-restraint of a toddler denied dessert.” For a man whose presidency has often been described as a whirlwind of ego and spectacle, the moment felt almost scripted. Yet, it was just the beginning of a dizzying round of global endorsements and criticisms.
Russian President Vladimir Putin and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu—leaders not exactly renowned for their pacifism—were quick to praise Trump as a global peacemaker. Putin lauded Trump for “doing a lot to resolve complex crises,” while Netanyahu hailed him as a force for peace. The irony was not lost on observers. As columnist Barrister Noshin Nawal wryly noted in The Daily Star, “When the planet’s most conflict-committed leaders start agreeing on who deserves a peace prize, one begins to wonder whether ‘peace’ has been redefined to mean ‘PR coordination between autocrats.’”
Critics of Trump were equally swift in their condemnation. Marty Morrison, writing in The Philippine Daily Inquirer, pointed out that Trump’s record stood in stark contrast to the spirit of the award. “Following his loss in the 2020 presidential election, he incited a violent insurrection in an attempt to stop the certification of Joe Biden as the winner. As soon as he was sworn in for his current term, he pardoned all participants convicted in that riot that we all watched on TV. He also watched it on TV, and did nothing to stop it,” Morrison wrote. The column further noted Trump’s controversial moves, such as proposing to rename the Department of Defense as the Department of War, and deploying federal agents and National Guard troops into US cities, actions seen by many as a direct affront to constitutional norms.
The Nobel Committee’s choice not to award Trump, despite his overt campaigning and the backing of influential world leaders, was interpreted by some as a stand for integrity. “Not at all surprising that the Norwegian Nobel Committee has chosen to maintain their integrity, and honor the Nobel Peace Prize by awarding it to someone who deserves the honor of receiving it,” Morrison observed. The decision was seen as a rebuke to those who would politicize the prize for personal or national gain.
Yet, the ceremony and its aftermath also raised uncomfortable questions about the nature of peace and the evolving meaning of the Nobel Prize itself. The Daily Star’s commentary did not mince words, suggesting that the award had become “less like a celebration of courage and more like a LinkedIn endorsement exchange.” The piece drew a sharp line between the activism of past laureates—like Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr.—and the media-savvy, sponsor-thanking tone of modern recipients. “Gandhi did not fast for brand partnerships. Martin Luther King Jr. did not ask his oppressors to like and subscribe,” Nawal wrote, lamenting the transformation of peace into a “beautifully packaged illusion, complete with hashtags, handshakes, and a trophy for whoever looks best holding it.”
Of course, the Nobel Peace Prize has always been dogged by controversy and contradiction. Barack Obama’s 2009 win for “promoting dialogue” came just months before he authorized drone strikes that, as critics pointed out, did anything but promote peace. But as The Daily Star noted, at least Obama “did not dedicate his award to George W. Bush.” Machado’s decision to thank Trump—whose administration dismantled the Department of State and the US Agency for International Development under the influence of billionaire advisers like Elon Musk—struck many as a diplomatic misstep, if not a calculated bid for political favor.
The optics of the event were further complicated by the global context. Trump’s alignment with Putin and Netanyahu, both of whom have faced international censure for their roles in ongoing conflicts, only added to the sense that the lines between peacemaker and provocateur had blurred. “It has become more and more apparent that the enemy within, in Trump’s mind, are those who disagree with him, including the free press,” Morrison wrote, underscoring the dangers of conflating power with principle.
As the dust settles, the debate over this year’s Nobel Peace Prize shows no sign of abating. Supporters of Machado argue that her recognition shines a much-needed spotlight on Venezuela’s struggle for democracy and justice. Detractors, meanwhile, warn that the prize risks becoming a pawn in a larger game of geopolitical influence and media spectacle. The Nobel Committee, caught between tradition and the demands of a digital age, faces a daunting challenge: how to preserve the credibility of an award that once embarrassed the powerful, but now seems to flatter them instead.
For all the headlines and hashtags, one truth remains: peace, in its truest form, is not polite, nor is it for sale. It does not thrive on applause from the world’s strongmen, nor does it survive by thanking its sponsors. As the world watches the Nobel stage transform from a platform for the brave into something resembling a red carpet, the question lingers—has the meaning of peace changed, or have we simply lost sight of it amid the glare of modern politics?
