In a recent public statement, US President Donald Trump referred to the ongoing war in Gaza as a “brutal conflict” and expressed hope that the release of Israeli-American hostage Edan Alexander by Hamas would mark the beginning of its end. 

“Hopefully this is the first of those final steps necessary to end this brutal conflict,” Trump said, acknowledging the roles of Qatar and Egypt in brokering the deal.

Alexander, a 21-year-old Israeli soldier from New Jersey, had been held captive since Hamas’s attack on October 7, 2023. His release, facilitated by the International Committee of the Red Cross and coordinated through a temporary halt in Israeli attacks, was widely viewed as a symbolic win for the Trump administration.

Despite this development, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was quick to clarify that the pause in fighting was temporary and tactical — aimed solely at ensuring Alexander’s safe return. It did not mark a broader ceasefire.

Israel’s war in Gaza, he reaffirmed, would intensify until Hamas is completely dismantled.

But what does it really mean?

Coming from the man who once gave Netanyahu near-unchecked support, from moving the US embassy to Jerusalem, to slashing UNRWA funding, to supplying an endless stream of devastating weaponry, Trump’s call for restraint may seem like a crack in what was once an unbreakable alliance.

Yet for many Palestinians, including my own family, still trapped and starving under siege in Gaza, the question is not what Trump says. It’s whether anything will change.

So far, there’s no indication that it will.

Netanyahu remains defiant. His government is pushing forward with an expanded military operation, continuing to displace over two million Palestinians into smaller, increasingly uninhabitable zones. Food aid remains tightly restricted, meaning starvation is not a byproduct of war, but a method of warfare.

This is not the behaviour of a government preparing to end a war. It’s the behaviour of one who sees suffering as a strategy.

And let’s not forget who Netanyahu is. He’s not just waging war—he’s fighting for his political survival. His fragile coalition is built on far-right partners who see the destruction of Gaza not as collateral damage, but as a goal. For him, backing down could mean the collapse of his government or criminal prosecution.

Trump’s motivations, meanwhile, are deeply suspect. His recent suggestion that the US might “redevelop” Gaza reeks of colonial fantasy, where Palestinian devastation becomes an investment opportunity. His call to end the war may be less about peace and more about positioning: for a business deal, a diplomatic play, or campaign optics ahead of a visit to the region. 

We don’t know. But we do know this—Trump does not care about us Palestinians.

Still, even symbolic pressure matters.

The fact that a figure like Trump is now publicly expressing concern signals growing unease in Western capitals. As Gaza’s humanitarian catastrophe deepens and as the evidence of war crimes grows undeniable, even Israel’s staunchest allies are being forced to recalibrate.

History repeating itself

If this dynamic feels familiar, it’s because it is. US presidents have a long history of issuing rhetorical concern while maintaining material support for regimes accused of atrocities. From Ronald Reagan’s backing of Saddam Hussein during the Iran-Iraq war—even as chemical weapons were used—to Bill Clinton’s arms sales to Egypt while it cracked down on dissent, America’s posture has often prioritised strategic alliances over human rights.

Barack Obama, who spoke frequently about peace, oversaw record-breaking military aid to Israel and provided diplomatic cover during previous assaults on Gaza in 2012 and 2014. Those wars, too, were marked by disproportionate force and widespread civilian suffering—and ended with no real accountability.

This pattern—condemn publicly, arm privately—is exactly what allows leaders like Netanyahu to persist. It is not new. But its consequences are now unfolding in real time, live-streaming from Rafah to Ramallah.

What happens next?

There are a few likely scenarios:

Continued war – The most probable outcome. Netanyahu intensifies the war, aiming to assert full control over Gaza. Trump’s remarks grab headlines, but no real policy shifts follow. Starvation deepens. Genocidal attacks escalate. Global outrage builds. But Israel carries on with impunity.

Partial ceasefire – Under international pressure, Israel agrees to temporary or localised pauses—perhaps to release more hostages or allow limited aid. But the war effort continues. Full control over Gaza becomes the next goal. The gesture is more about optics than justice.

Sudden US shift – The least likely. Trump (or the US administration more broadly) could condition or suspend military aid, finally applying meaningful pressure. But so far, there is no signal—rhetorical or real—that this will happen.

So what’s most likely?

Sadly, continued war.

Because Netanyahu sees this as existential—not for Israel, but for himself. And he is emboldened by decades of Western silence. Unless that silence turns into consequence, he has no reason to stop. Trump’s words may sound different, but they carry no threat. And without threat, there’s no leverage.

Perhaps, under mounting global outrage, Israel will be forced to allow in more humanitarian aid. Perhaps it will reduce the intensity of its bombing. But Gaza will remain under siege, and life for Palestinians will remain unlivable—by design.

If Trump truly wanted to stop the brutality, he could act. He could freeze military aid. He could end diplomatic cover. He could stop arming a regime that is starving civilians.

But until that happens, Gaza will continue to burn.

And we, the Palestinians—like my family—will be left watching the world debate whether our lives are worth saving.