'The Trump plan changed nothing': One year later, Gaza still lives in ruins, under bombs

The October 10, 2025 ceasefire was presented as a major transition from war toward security and recovery. Hamas was expected to release all hostages, disarm and leave political life. Full humanitarian aid, reconstruction and an Israeli military pullout were also promised. These terms mattered because Gaza had already been devastated by the campaign that followed the October 7, 2023 attacks.

The agreement was brokered by United States President Donald Trump. Yet the article describes a ceasefire that was “barely applicable” in practice. Israeli troops remained in Gaza, and the army’s occupation extended across two-thirds of the territory. More than 2.2 million people were forced into only 130 square kilometers.

A year later, families still lived in tents among insects, rodents and overcrowding. The Hamad family’s home in Bureij had become rubble east of the “yellow line.” The continuing occupation, displacement and destruction show that the promised shift toward aid and reconstruction had not become daily reality.

A ceasefire is an arrangement in which opposing forces stop or sharply reduce fighting. It may be temporary, local or conditional. Its immediate purpose is to reduce violence and create space for actions such as releasing hostages, delivering aid or negotiating. The article describes the October 10, 2025 deal as a ceasefire intended to support all three.

A permanent peace agreement goes further. It creates a durable political framework for ending the conflict, not merely a pause in combat. It may settle borders, governance, security arrangements, accountability and the rights of affected people. Those broader features are not detailed in the article, so this distinction comes from established international practice.

The Gaza example shows why the difference matters. A ceasefire can exist while troops remain deployed, territory stays occupied and civilians remain displaced. One year later, Israeli forces still controlled two-thirds of Gaza, making the announcement far less than a settled peace.

The article gives two stark measures of military control and civilian displacement. Israel’s army occupies two-thirds of the Gaza Strip. More than 2.2 million residents have been forced into the remaining 130 square kilometers. Together, these figures show that the issue is not only battlefield control. It is also the compression of a huge population into a much smaller area.

That compression produces dense, overpopulated living conditions. The Hamad family is sheltering under a patched-up tent near a landfill. Ali Hamad describes foul odors, skin diseases and respiratory infections around his one-year-old daughter, Watine. Their original home in the Bureij camp lies east of the “yellow line,” in the occupied area, and has been reduced to rubble.

The immediate reality is persistent displacement rather than recovery. With Israeli troops still present and large areas designated as buffer zones, families cannot return home. The figures suggest that any future relief or reconstruction plan must address both territorial access and the needs of millions crowded into the remaining space.

Destroying or overcrowding civilian homes and essential systems turns ordinary survival into a daily emergency. People can lose shelter, clean water, sanitation, medical care and dependable food supplies. Crowded conditions also make infectious disease easier to spread and leave families more exposed to insects, rodents and polluted surroundings. These are established humanitarian consequences; the article specifically documents several of them in Gaza.

Watine Hamad’s family lives under a patched-up tent next to a landfill. Her father describes foul odors, skin diseases and respiratory infections. The family’s home in the Bureij camp is gone, and more than 2.2 million people have been pushed into only 130 square kilometers. These conditions combine displacement, environmental hazards and limited space.

The consequences continue after fighting pauses. A ceasefire without safe housing, functioning services, sufficient aid and access to food cannot restore normal life. The article’s picture of Gaza suggests that reconstruction must include homes and basic systems, not merely an end to shooting. Otherwise, civilians remain trapped in preventable health and survival risks.

The ceasefire plan divided responsibilities among the main actors. Hamas was required to release all hostages, disarm and completely withdraw from political life. Israel was supposed to begin pulling its army out of Gaza. The agreement also called for full humanitarian aid and the start of reconstruction, which would have addressed the enclave’s devastation.

The United States, represented in the article by President Donald Trump, brokered the deal. Its role was diplomatic rather than a listed day-to-day governing responsibility. The plan’s mechanism depended on linked steps: Hamas would make major security and political concessions, while Israel would withdraw and Gaza would receive aid and rebuilding support.

The article reports that the arrangement did not produce those promised conditions. Israeli troops remained in Gaza, occupying two-thirds of the territory. Civilians still lived in tents, and the Hamad family’s home remained rubble. The gap between assigned responsibilities and conditions one year later is the plan’s central failure.

According to the article, Hamas launched terrorist attacks on October 7, 2023. Israel then carried out a campaign of destruction against the Palestinian enclave. The ceasefire announced on October 10, 2025 was intended to end that campaign and move Gaza toward aid and reconstruction. This sequence explains why the territory was already devastated when the ceasefire began.

The agreement tried to address both the attacks and their aftermath. Hamas was asked to release all hostages, disarm and leave political life. Israel was expected to pull out, while full humanitarian aid and reconstruction were supposed to start. These conditions linked security measures with civilian recovery.

One year later, the article describes a different reality. Israeli troops still occupied two-thirds of Gaza, and more than 2.2 million people were confined to 130 square kilometers. The Hamad family’s home in Bureij was rubble. The campaign’s destruction therefore remained visible in daily displacement, unsafe shelter and the absence of meaningful rebuilding.

International humanitarian law is built around limiting harm during war. Armies and armed groups must distinguish civilians and civilian objects from military targets, avoid indiscriminate attacks, take feasible precautions and respect proportionality. They must also treat detainees humanely and protect the wounded. These are established legal principles beyond the article’s specific account.

The law also requires parties to facilitate rapid, impartial humanitarian relief for civilians in need, subject to lawful security controls. Occupying powers have additional responsibilities to protect the population and support food, medical care, public health and basic services. Armed groups are bound by humanitarian rules too; civilian status does not depend on which side controls an area.

These duties matter in Gaza because the article describes mass displacement, destroyed homes, overcrowded tents and disease risks. Military control does not erase civilian protections. A ceasefire plan promising full aid and reconstruction would need practical compliance, safe access and protection for residents, not only a written announcement.