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Conflicting Visions for Gaza’s ‘Day After’ Amid a Complex Reality

Palestinians bid farewell to a relative killed in an Israeli airstrike outside the Indonesian Hospital in Beit Lahia, northern Gaza Strip, on Saturday (AFP)
Palestinians bid farewell to a relative killed in an Israeli airstrike outside the Indonesian Hospital in Beit Lahia, northern Gaza Strip, on Saturday (AFP)
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Conflicting Visions for Gaza’s ‘Day After’ Amid a Complex Reality

Palestinians bid farewell to a relative killed in an Israeli airstrike outside the Indonesian Hospital in Beit Lahia, northern Gaza Strip, on Saturday (AFP)
Palestinians bid farewell to a relative killed in an Israeli airstrike outside the Indonesian Hospital in Beit Lahia, northern Gaza Strip, on Saturday (AFP)

As discussions over the future of Gaza continue, the conflicting visions among key players make reaching a consensus increasingly difficult. The phrase “it’s complicated,” used by US envoy to the Middle East Steve Witkoff to justify Israel’s continuation of the war, summarizes the deep divisions among stakeholders.

Since the October 7, 2023, Hamas attack on Israel, followed by Israel’s devastating war on Gaza, international efforts to define the “day after” scenario have remained unresolved.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu refuses to allow either the Palestinian Authority (PA) or Hamas to govern Gaza. Meanwhile, former US President Donald Trump envisions turning Gaza into the “Riviera of the Middle East”—without the PA, Hamas, or even Palestinians themselves. Arab states are considering an independent committee to manage Gaza, while the PA insists on taking sole control. Hamas, on the other hand, has proposed a support committee to oversee governance. The result is a landscape where no party shares a unified vision for post-war Gaza.

A senior Palestinian official emphasized that the PA and Arab states are relying on the US to take a firm stance and impose a solution on Israel. “There is no agreement yet. The issue must still be settled,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat. The official stressed that a binding US position, along with Arab and international support, is necessary for any effective governance plan.

While Trump and Netanyahu have outlined different visions for Gaza, behind the scenes, the US is engaged in discussions about post-war governance. Yet, Netanyahu has repeatedly avoided addressing this issue, preferring to focus on military operations. Israeli writer Avi Shilon argued in Yedioth Ahronoth that Netanyahu is prolonging the war to evade making a tough decision about Gaza’s future.

Both Witkoff and Shilon believe Hamas intends to maintain its presence in Gaza. While Witkoff insists that Hamas’ continued rule is unacceptable to Trump’s administration, he hinted that the group could participate politically if it disarms.

Witkoff also suggested that negotiations might provide a path forward, arguing that Hamas is not as ideologically rigid as some claim.

This approach aligns with US efforts to engage Hamas indirectly, recognizing that Israel has been unable to decisively eliminate the group. Shilon noted that Israel’s demand to end Hamas’ rule is justified in principle but impractical in reality.

“Israel cannot force Hamas to surrender. A group willing to sacrifice tens of thousands of its people and endure Gaza’s destruction has no incentive to return hostages if all we offer is their removal from power,” he wrote, adding that the US has come to the same realization.

Hamas responded swiftly to Witkoff’s remarks, with spokesperson Abdel Latif al-Qanoua stating that some of these proposals are under discussion with mediators. He affirmed that Hamas is open to governance arrangements in Gaza, provided they have broad consensus. “We approved the formation of a societal support committee in Gaza that does not include Hamas. We have no ambitions to govern Gaza; what matters to us is national consensus, and we are committed to its outcomes,” he said.

Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdel Aty previously outlined a comprehensive reconstruction plan for Gaza, including training Palestinian security forces in Egypt and Jordan before their deployment to the Strip. A Hamas official confirmed to Asharq Al-Awsat that the group genuinely does not seek to govern Gaza, but it insists that governance arrangements be Palestinian-led, without US or Israeli dictates. “Our weapons are not up for discussion unless it leads to a Palestinian state,” the official emphasized.

The PA and Fatah have also entered the debate, calling on Hamas to relinquish control of Gaza. Fatah spokesperson Munther al-Hayek urged Hamas to step aside, warning that the upcoming period could be “even more severe” for Gaza’s civilians.

A lingering question remains: Will the October 7 attack ultimately bring Palestinians closer to statehood, or will it destroy their aspirations?

Thirty-two years after the Oslo Accords—when US sponsorship, international backing, and a strong PA seemed to pave the way for peace—Israel’s refusal to conclude negotiations has kept Palestinians in a cycle of talks, conflicts, and political paralysis. Over time, Israel’s approach has weakened the PA and, whether intentionally or not, bolstered Hamas’ influence—leading to the devastating events of October 7.

As the region contemplates Gaza’s future, the unresolved question remains: What lessons have Washington and Tel Aviv learned, and what do they truly want?

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They Fled Syria Years Ago. Now, they Spend their First Ramadan Back amid Nostalgia, Relief and Loss

Displaced Syrian women prepare food at a makeshift camp in Idlib on May 23, 2019. (AFP)
Displaced Syrian women prepare food at a makeshift camp in Idlib on May 23, 2019. (AFP)
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They Fled Syria Years Ago. Now, they Spend their First Ramadan Back amid Nostalgia, Relief and Loss

Displaced Syrian women prepare food at a makeshift camp in Idlib on May 23, 2019. (AFP)
Displaced Syrian women prepare food at a makeshift camp in Idlib on May 23, 2019. (AFP)

When Mariam Aabour learned of the ouster of Syrian leader Bashar Assad, she shed tears of joy. But as the time came to return to her homeland from Lebanon – where she fled years earlier – Aabour felt torn.
She was happy about the homecoming, but sad to leave behind a son and a stepson who remained in Lebanon to work and pay off family debts. Months before her return, Aabour’s father died in Syria without her seeing him. Her Syrian home has been destroyed and there’s no money to rebuild, she said.
Thus it’s been bittersweet experiencing her first Ramadan – the Muslim holy month – since her return, The Associated Press said.
“We’ve all lost dear ones,” she said. “Even after our return, we still cry over the tragedies that we’ve lived through.”
As they spend their first Ramadan in years in their homeland, many Syrians who’ve recently trickled back in from abroad have been celebrating the end of the Assad family’s rule in December after a fast-paced opposition offensive. They are relishing some new freedoms and savoring some old traces of the lives they once knew.
They enjoy family reunions but many also face challenges as they adjust to a country ravaged by a prolonged civil war and now grappling with a complex transition. As they do, they grieve personal and communal losses: Killed and missing loved ones, their absence amplified during Ramadan. Destroyed or damaged homes. And family gatherings shattered by the exodus of millions.
A time for daily fasting and heightened worship, Ramadan also often sees joyous get-togethers with relatives over food and juices.
Aabour – one of the more than 370,000 Syrians the United Nations' refugee agency, UNHCR, says have returned to the country since Assad’s ouster – delights in hearing the call to prayer from mosques signaling the end of the daily fast. In her Lebanon neighborhood, she said, there were no nearby mosques and she relied on phones to know when to break the fast.
The hardest part, she added, is sitting for the fast-breaking meal known as “iftar” without some loved ones, including her father and a son, who she said was killed before the family fled Syria.
She bitterly recalled how her child, who she said was about 10 when killed, liked a rice and peas dish for iftar and would energetically help her, carrying dishes from the kitchen.
“I used to tell him, ‘You’re too young,’ but he would say, ‘No, I want to help you,’” she said, sitting on the floor in her in-laws’ house which her family now shares with relatives.
Faraj al-Mashash, her husband, said he’s not currently working, accumulating more debt and caring for an ill father.
The family borrowed money to fix his father’s home in Daraya. It was damaged and looted, but still standing.
Many Daraya homes aren’t.
Part of Rural Damascus and known for its grapes and its furniture workshops, Daraya was one of the centers of the uprising against Assad. The conflict devolved into armed insurgency and civil war after Assad crushed what started as largely peaceful protests; this Ramadan, Syrians marked the 14th anniversary of the civil war’s start.
Daraya suffered killings and saw massive damage during fighting. It endured years of government besiegement and aerial campaigns before a deal was struck between the government and opposition factions in 2016 that resulted in the evacuation of fighters and civilians and control ceded to the government.
Today, in parts of Daraya, children and others walk past walls with gaping holes in crumbling buildings. In some areas, a clothesline or bright-colored water tank provides glimpses of lives unfolding among ruins or charred walls.
Despite it all, al-Mashash said, it’s home.
“Isn’t Daraya destroyed? But I feel like I am in heaven.”
Still, “there’s sadness,” he added. “A place is only beautiful with its people in it. Buildings can be rebuilt, but when a person is gone, they don’t come back.”
In Lebanon, al-Mashash struggled financially and was homesick for Daraya, for the familiar faces that used to greet him on its streets. Shortly after Assad’s ouster, he returned.
This Ramadan, he’s re-lived some traditions, inviting people for iftar and getting invited, and praying at a mosque where he has cherished memories.
Some of those who had left Daraya, and now returned to Syria, say their homes have been obliterated or are in no condition for them to stay there. Some of them are living elsewhere in an apartment complex that had previously housed Assad-era military officers and is now sheltering some families, mostly ones who've returned from internal displacement.
The majority of those who've returned to Syria since Assad's removal came from countries in the region, including Lebanon, Jordan and Türkiye, said Celine Schmitt, UNHCR’s spokesperson in Syria.
A main security fear for returnees is unexploded mines, Schmitt said, adding UNHCR provides “mine awareness sessions” in its community centers. It also offers legal awareness for those needing IDs, birth certificates or property documents and has provided free transportation for some who came from Jordan and Türkiye, she said.
The needs of returnees, so far a fraction of those who’ve left, are varied and big – from work and basic services to house repairs or construction. Many, Schmitt said, hope for financial help to start a small business or rebuild, adding that more funding is needed.
“We’re calling on all of our donors,” she said. “There’s an opportunity now to solve one of the biggest displacement crises in the world, because people want to go back.”
Many of those who haven't returned cite economic challenges and “the huge challenges they see in Syria” as some of the reasons, she said.
In January, UN High Commissioner for Refugees Filippo Grandi said living conditions in the country must improve for the return of Syrians to be sustainable.
Umaya Moussa, also from Daraya, said she fled Syria to Lebanon in 2013, returning recently as a mother of four, two of whom had never seen Syria before.
Moussa, 38, recalls, at one point, fleeing an area while pregnant and terrified, carrying her daughter and clutching her husband’s hand. The horrors have haunted her.
“I’d remember so many events that would leave me unable to sleep,” she said. “Whenever I closed my eyes, I would scream and cry and have nightmares.”
In Lebanon, she lived for a while in a camp, where she shared the kitchen and bathroom with others. “We were humiliated ..., but it was still better than the fear we’ve lived through.”
She’d yearned for the usual Ramadan family gatherings.
For the first iftar this year, she broke her fast with her family, including brothers who, she said, as fighters against the Assad government, had previously moved to then opposition-controlled Idlib province.
Missing from the Ramadan meal was her father who died while Moussa was away.
Like Moussa, Saeed Kamel is intimately familiar with the pain of a joy incomplete. This Ramadan, he visited the grave of his mother who had died when he was in Lebanon.
“I told her that we’ve returned but we didn’t find her,” he said, wiping away tears.
And it wasn’t just her. Kamel had been hopeful that with Assad gone, they would find a missing brother in his prisons; they didn’t.
Kamel had vowed never to return to a Syria ruled by Assad, saying he felt like a stranger in his country. His home, he said, was damaged and looted.
But despite any difficulties, he held out hope. At least, he said, “the next generation will live with dignity, God willing.”
Kamel fondly recalled how – before their worlds changed – his family would exchange visits with others for most of Ramadan and neighbors would send each other iftar dishes.
“Ramadan is not nice without the family gatherings,” he said. “Now, one can barely manage.”
He can’t feel the same Ramadan spirit as before.
“The good thing,” he said, “is that Ramadan came while we’re liberated.”