Gaza is not a 'business deal' nor an 'investment opportunity'

As the sun rises over Gaza’s scarred horizon, the city stands resilient, its spirit unbroken despite the relentless weight of foreign impositions. US President Donald Trump, known for his transactional approach to global affairs, has once again set his sights on Gaza, framing its future in the language of real estate deals and economic incentives. But to the people of Gaza, Trump’s so-called vision is not a proposal – it is an insult.

“We are not a business deal. We are not an investment opportunity,” says Hussam Lolo, 33, his voice unwavering despite the weight of loss. “Trump looks at Gaza like a property up for grabs, but he does not own this land. Only the hands of Gaza’s own people will rebuild what has been destroyed.”

Lolo’s frustration echoes a deeper, collective outrage among Palestinians in Gaza. For generations, their land has been bombed, their homes demolished, and their lives disrupted. And yet, they remain steadfast in their refusal to be bought, displaced or erased.

“The world must understand,” he continues, “we are not looking for a new place to call home. We already have one. Gaza is our home, and we will never abandon it.”

False promises

Trump’s proposal, masked in promises of reconstruction and prosperity, suggests that Gaza’s people should leave their land, their suffering cynically repackaged as a reason for displacement. But the people of Gaza see through the facade. The offer, dressed in diplomatic niceties, does not honour their dignity or history – it perpetuates the narrative of erasure that the people of Gaza have fought against for generations.

“We do not want conditional American money,” Lolo says. “There are millions across the Arab and Islamic world who love Palestine, who would support us without asking us to leave. We do not need to be removed from our land in order to receive aid. This is our right, not a favour.”

Noor Zaqout, 43, also challenges the premise of forced migration under the guise of a better life. She has lived through the turmoil of war, seen the devastation of her homeland, and yet her identity remains etched in Gaza’s landscape.

“There is a difference between choosing to travel and being forcibly displaced. Trump’s plan is not about improving our lives, it is about removing us,” she says.

“It is not about finding a better future. It is about taking away our right to stay where we belong. It is not about finding peace; it is about forcing us to surrender.”

For Zaqout, the issue is deeply personal. Her family, once proud inhabitants of Gaza, has seen the devastation first-hand, and their bond to this land runs deep. It is a bond that cannot be severed by foreign promises of better opportunities.

“My relatives who left before the war now wish they could come back, even to a broken Gaza,” she says, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and defiance. “This is our home, our identity. How do you expect us to abandon our memories, our streets, our lives?”

Trump's narrative paints Gaza as unlivable, justifying displacement under the guise of humanitarian concern. But this framing is both cynical and false.

“Did Trump order the evacuation of Los Angeles when wildfires burned through it?” Zaqout asks. “Did he suggest its people should leave forever? Of course not. This is not about the living conditions here. This is about politics, about trying to make us disappear. Gaza is not unlivable. Gaza is a place where people live, love, fight, and die for what they believe in. It is our home, and we will not leave.”

Generations of resistance

Ayat Al-Ghossain, 27, traces her roots back through decades of Palestinian struggle. Like thousands of others, her family has lived through wars, through displacement, through exile, and yet they remain committed to their land. For Al-Ghossain, staying in Gaza is not just a personal choice, it is a political statement, a refusal to let foreign powers dictate their fate.

“My grandfather lived here for 80 years, my father for 70. I will stay, and I will teach my children to stay,” she declares, her voice strong with conviction. “This land is not just land. It is our history. Our identity. Our future. We will not give that up.”

Al-Ghossain challenges the world’s silence on the suffering of Palestinians in exile. “No one talks about the struggles of Palestinian refugees, how they live stateless, without citizenship, denied basic rights. Yet here in Gaza, we have an identity. We will not give that up.”

For her, the delays in reconstruction efforts expose the hypocrisy of foreign intervention.

“The same forces that turned Gaza into rubble now want to play the role of saviors?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. “If they really cared, they would have allowed rebuilding to begin immediately.”

The price of survival

While diplomats debate, Palestinians face harsh realities. Homes remain in ruins. Families search for missing loved ones buried beneath the debris. Food and medicine are scarce. And yet, the people endure. They endure not because they have no other choice, but because they have a deep, unshakeable love for their land and their people.

Samah Hassanein, 30, laughs bitterly when asked if Trump’s plan is a solution or a crime.

“Have you ever seen a crime with a fresh coat of paint?” she asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “That is what this is. This is not a solution; it is an insult.”

She refuses to accept the argument that Gaza is unfit for human life.

“They have strangled Gaza for years, kept us under blockade, and then turned around to say we cannot survive here. But we are still here, still breathing. We will survive because Gaza is not just a place; it is a people,” Hassanein says, a fierce pride in her voice.

For Hassanein, if she were ever to leave, there would be only one destination, Safed, her family’s ancestral home in Palestine before 1948, seized by Zionist militia and today part of Israel.

“Will they be comfortable with that?” she says, a rhetorical question that lingers in the air.

Gaza - loud and unyielding

Despite the unimaginable suffering, Gazans are not passive victims. They are the authors of their own story, refusing to let foreign powers dictate their fate.

“If Trump wants to build something, let him rebuild the homes that were destroyed by US-funded bombs,” says Lolo. “But he should know whatever is rebuilt will be for us, not for his political legacy.”

Zaqout and Hassanein emphasise that the people of Gaza are not seeking aid or foreign intervention but rather the fundamental right to live freely on their own land with dignity. They reject superficial solutions that ignore core issues like the blockade, ongoing bombings, and lack of freedom. Their demand is clear: an end to oppression, recognition of their existence, and the ability to rebuild their future without external deals made at their expense.

“We are not asking for permission to live. We are demanding that the world stop trying to erase us. We are not a statistic. We are Gaza, and we will survive,” says Hassanein.

A city that refuses to be erased

Gaza is not a chess piece to be moved at will. It is a city with history, with culture, with a people who refuse to be erased. Gaza’s voice is loud, clear, and unyielding. The city is not just a place of pain; it is a symbol of resistance, of survival, of the unbreakable spirit of its people.

“Trump should come to Gaza, see the bodies still trapped under the rubble, see the children playing amid destruction, see the mothers holding on to what little remains,” Al-Ghossain says. “If he truly wants to help, let him fix what has been broken while we are still here, not after forcing us to disappear.”

Lolo, Zaqout, Al-Ghossain, and Hassanein speak for a city that has endured the unthinkable. Their voices do not cry for help, they roar with defiance.

“We will not go,” they say, over and over. “This land is ours.”

And as long as there is breath in their lungs, Gaza will remain – unbroken, unyielding, unforgettable.