Kushner Wages Peace Blitz: Billions Promised, Guns Must Fall in Gaza

Paul Riverbank, 1/25/2026Kushner launches a massive Gaza peace plan, but heartbreak and skepticism overshadow billion-dollar promises.

Moscow was a marathon. Four hours with Vladimir Putin, eyes locked on the Ukraine question. One U.S. official emerged calling the discussion “very productive,” though it’s hard to square those words with the jarring headlines that greeted dawn: another series of missile barrages across Kyiv, more chaos as ever. Zelensky took a diplomatic route, remarking the talks were “constructive.” On the ground, that optimism felt almost surreal—a distant echo from inside a shielded roundtable.

No sooner had the dust settled in Moscow than Kushner and Witkoff landed in Israel. Israeli officials didn’t sugarcoat their priorities. Tracking down the remains of Ran Gvili—an Israeli hostage whose family’s grief remains unresolved—dominated the agenda, alongside the enduring aim to dismantle Hamas’s military presence and preserve the uneasy truce gripping southern Gaza. “Non-negotiable,” an Israeli official put it, as blunt as one can be behind closed doors. For Gvili’s loved ones, every diplomatic overture is a distraction from an agony that feels endless. “We need closure before anyone talks about shaping the region’s future,” the family insisted.

Even with these wounds open, Kushner and company were quick to pivot to what comes next. In Davos, amid the tinkle of glasses and the endless swirl of press, he laid out a vision for Gaza—one filled with sleek towers and thriving markets. “That’s Gaza’s future,” Kushner announced, invoking the “free market mindset” that powered his American projects. The price tag? An estimated $25 billion for the rebirth, though organizations like the UN quietly warn it’s likely no less than double that.

Kushner’s caveat is a pointed one: “No security, no investment.” The fate of his much-publicized peace roadmap pivots entirely on an unyielding requirement—the full demilitarization of Hamas. So far, the world’s investment banks haven’t exactly been ringing his phone off the hook.

And yet, the scale of this attempt to broker peace is different—grand, perhaps, even by Middle Eastern standards. The group leading the charge is dubbed the Board of Peace. It includes the likes of U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and former UK Prime Minister Tony Blair, whose names alone draw fifteen-minute standing ovations in some Western circles. Thirty-five heads of state have signed on, drawing a line from Riyadh to Cairo, Doha to Ankara. Their task is as monumental as it sounds: organizing Israel, Palestinians, and every neighbor with even a tangential interest in stability, all under a single—and probably very cramped—roof.

Signs of progress are visible, if you squint. The long-closed Rafah crossing may re-open within days, a narrow artery for aid into Gaza. Aid workers talk about “green shoots,” but history makes them wary. “We’ve had plenty of hopeful starts fall apart before,” a UN staffer observed, her tone heavy with skepticism born from experience.

Still, diplomatic choreography doesn’t always hit its cues. The White House was keen on a photo op: Israeli President Isaac Herzog onstage in Davos, a show of unity stitched together for the cameras. The result? An empty chair after Netanyahu resisted, spotlighting how fragile even symbolic gestures can be under such relentless pressure.

Meanwhile, any talk of future prosperity is undercut by the daily reality in Gaza—columns of smoke, sounds of shelling, anxious glances to the sky. The much-touted “Riviera of the Middle East” is, for now, buried under concrete and heartbreak.

To seasoned observers, this dance has the flavor of déjà vu—Camp David’s cautious optimism, Oslo’s bittersweet promises, and a long string of diplomatic bursts that start strong but fade faster than hope. What’s changed is the constellation of players—more actors, more urgency, and, to many, stakes that feel existential.

Kushner and his entourage know all too well that hope never travels these roads without its shadow: heartbreak. But as they shuttle from frostbitten Moscow halls to Jerusalem’s stone-laden corridors, it’s evident—each fresh initiative carries both in equal measure. Whether one finally outweighs the other remains a question only time, and perhaps a measure of luck, will be able to answer.

Jared Kushner has no shortage of experience walking into rooms thick with expectation, but lately, those meeting rooms—however grand—seem incapable of thawing the chill outside their walls. Last week, he and developer Steve Witkoff found themselves crossing borders faster than time zones change: first, the snow-dusted Russian capital, and not long after, the tension-soaked air of Jerusalem.Moscow was a marathon. Four hours with Vladimir Putin, eyes locked on the Ukraine question. One U.S. official emerged calling the discussion “very productive,” though it’s hard to square those words with the jarring headlines that greeted dawn: another series of missile barrages across Kyiv, more chaos as ever. Zelensky took a diplomatic route, remarking the talks were “constructive.” On the ground, that optimism felt almost surreal—a distant echo from inside a shielded roundtable.No sooner had the dust settled in Moscow than Kushner and Witkoff landed in Israel. Israeli officials didn’t sugarcoat their priorities. Tracking down the remains of Ran Gvili—an Israeli hostage whose family’s grief remains unresolved—dominated the agenda, alongside the enduring aim to dismantle Hamas’s military presence and preserve the uneasy truce gripping southern Gaza. “Non-negotiable,” an Israeli official put it, as blunt as one can be behind closed doors. For Gvili’s loved ones, every diplomatic overture is a distraction from an agony that feels endless. “We need closure before anyone talks about shaping the region’s future,” the family insisted.Even with these wounds open, Kushner and company were quick to pivot to what comes next. In Davos, amid the tinkle of glasses and the endless swirl of press, he laid out a vision for Gaza—one filled with sleek towers and thriving markets. “That’s Gaza’s future,” Kushner announced, invoking the “free market mindset” that powered his American projects. The price tag? An estimated $25 billion for the rebirth, though organizations like the UN quietly warn it’s likely no less than double that.Kushner’s caveat is a pointed one: “No security, no investment.” The fate of his much-publicized peace roadmap pivots entirely on an unyielding requirement—the full demilitarization of Hamas. So far, the world’s investment banks haven’t exactly been ringing his phone off the hook.And yet, the scale of this attempt to broker peace is different—grand, perhaps, even by Middle Eastern standards. The group leading the charge is dubbed the Board of Peace. It includes the likes of U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio and former UK Prime Minister Tony Blair, whose names alone draw fifteen-minute standing ovations in some Western circles. Thirty-five heads of state have signed on, drawing a line from Riyadh to Cairo, Doha to Ankara. Their task is as monumental as it sounds: organizing Israel, Palestinians, and every neighbor with even a tangential interest in stability, all under a single—and probably very cramped—roof.Signs of progress are visible, if you squint. The long-closed Rafah crossing may re-open within days, a narrow artery for aid into Gaza. Aid workers talk about “green shoots,” but history makes them wary. “We’ve had plenty of hopeful starts fall apart before,” a UN staffer observed, her tone heavy with skepticism born from experience.Still, diplomatic choreography doesn’t always hit its cues. The White House was keen on a photo op: Israeli President Isaac Herzog onstage in Davos, a show of unity stitched together for the cameras. The result? An empty chair after Netanyahu resisted, spotlighting how fragile even symbolic gestures can be under such relentless pressure.Meanwhile, any talk of future prosperity is undercut by the daily reality in Gaza—columns of smoke, sounds of shelling, anxious glances to the sky. The much-touted “Riviera of the Middle East” is, for now, buried under concrete and heartbreak.To seasoned observers, this dance has the flavor of déjà vu—Camp David’s cautious optimism, Oslo’s bittersweet promises, and a long string of diplomatic bursts that start strong but fade faster than hope. What’s changed is the constellation of players—more actors, more urgency, and, to many, stakes that feel existential.Kushner and his entourage know all too well that hope never travels these roads without its shadow: heartbreak. But as they shuttle from frostbitten Moscow halls to Jerusalem’s stone-laden corridors, it’s evident—each fresh initiative carries both in equal measure. Whether one finally outweighs the other remains a question only time, and perhaps a measure of luck, will be able to answer.