Last Tuesday night, Donald Trump announced on social media that Iran and Israel had agreed to a ceasefire, ending what he called a “12-day war”. It was the second war this year, after India and Pakistan’s four-day conflict, tostart and end under Trump’s watch. They followed another, earlier conflict betweenLebanon and Israelduring President Joe Biden’s term.
Here in Gaza, all eyes were fixed on the Iran-Israel conflict. Even cut off from the internet, people found ways to follow the news – on the radio, or by catching weak phone signals by climbing to high rooftops or walking near the sea, or just by staying up all night watching the sky, where some of the missiles launched from Iran could be seen from Gaza. Many wondered if Trump, the man who once promised to stop “endless wars”, would seize the moment to stop not only war on Iran but also the genocide in Gaza.
For 12 days, we finally witnessed a real power in the world enter a war with Israel, the same country that has starved us, bombed us and killed us. But does that really make any difference for us in Gaza? Even if Israel were bombed byIranuntil the last day of our lives, nothing would bring back our beloved ones, our homes, our warm city.
Two years of our lives have passed like decades. But in just 12 days, that war was over. Trump declared the strikes a complete success against a “nuclear threat”, even asinternational inspectors disagreed. The assault on Iran has ended. The assault on Gaza, the tiny coastal strip with no army and no air force, hasn’t.
Trump has brought no change for us. No relief. Only escalation. In just six months, he has failed – or rather, never even tried – to end the war in Gaza. On the contrary, he has become one of its main enablers, sending Israel all the weapons it needs to keep it going. And yet, he offersstatements of optimism, claiming that “I think great progress is being made on Gaza” and that his special envoy Steve Witkoff had told him “Gaza is very close.”Similar optimism was expressed one month ago, when Witkoff spoke of having “very good feelings” about the chances for reaching a temporary ceasefire. A ceasefire that, ultimately, never materialised.
I remember the early months of the war when my little sister asked: “Why do their wars end so quickly? Why isGazathe exception?” These questions echo through every household in Gaza. Back then, we believed it was just a matter of time; that international law would step in. But over more than 600 days we have seen the same pattern repeat again and again – destruction, death, then negotiations, ceasefire talks, “breakthroughs”, then more deaths. Delegations fly to Doha and return empty-handed. This isn’t because peace is impossible. This is because the genocide in Gaza doesn’t inflict real political or economic costs on those in power. Unlike Iran, Gaza poses no strategic threat; it cannot block trade routes such as the strait of Hormuz, nor does it have the means to inflict meaningful damage on Israel. The international pressure is weak, mostly limited to statements rather than sanctions, and thus easily ignored.
For Israel’s leadership, peace in Gaza simply isn’t profitable. In fact, continued assault serves political interests, especially those of the prime minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, who isdoing everything he canto avoid early elections while he faces corruption charges, which he denies.
We’ve come to understand the bitter truth: our lives are conditional. Our dreams, our futures – all worthless unless they serve geopolitical interests. Our suffering is tolerated. Our justice, indefinitely delayed.
Famine and malnutrition are now widespread. Electricity has been cut for nearly two years. Generations of students have lost access to education. Municipalities have collapsed. The healthcare system is overwhelmed. Daily life has disintegrated. Gaza’s streets, once calm, are now haunted by fear. Bombings are no longer the only threat: at night, people face theft, assault or even murder. Lawlessness is growing. Gangs operate openly. Israel shows no interest in restoring order. Chaos serves it better.
Look into people’s eyes. In everyone, from the smallest child to the oldest grandparent, you’ll see blank stares, hollow gazes. Eyes stripped of light. Waiting. Not necessarily for death, but for something to end.
Gaza longs for what all people long for – to breathe, to live, for peace. Butrealpeace cannot be declared from podiums while bombs fall from planes. It cannot be promised in speeches while crossings stay closed. It cannot exist without an immediate, unbroken ceasefire.
A ceasefire that would allow Gaza’s sky at sunset to be dotted with children’s kites floating gently over the rubble. For a moment, they would watch them fly and think: maybe not everything up there means death. Maybe, just maybe, there’s an angel, too.
All we want is what all people want: for this nightmare to end. For warplanes to leave. For tents to become safe, warm homes again. For the soft coastal breeze to blow away the smell of blood.
And maybe justice is not scheduled for today.But I still believe: one day, we will see it.
Hassan Abo Qamar is a Palestinian writer and journalist based in Gaza
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