Kushner’s $112B Gaza Gamble: Can “Project Sunrise” Survive Chaos?

Paul Riverbank, 12/21/2025Kushner’s $112B Gaza dream faces skepticism, regional intrigue, and harsh realities on the ground.

The basic structure is bold. The United States, if all went according to plan, would put forward $60 billion over ten years, a mixture of grants and guarantees. The rest? Open to the world, or at least to whomever Kushner and Witkoff can persuade to back the dream. Yet as of now, the list of willing investors remains largely a mystery. That lack of clarity would be troubling anywhere, but in a place as volatile as Gaza, it’s downright perilous.

What the slides promise is dazzling: sleek infrastructure, smart systems running on the latest tech, even beachfront developments most Gazans today might struggle to imagine. But in stark contrast to these digital renderings, the reality on the ground is all too grim. Mountains of concrete—an estimated 68 million tons—block streets and flatten histories. For more than two million Palestinians, many already displaced and traumatized, day-to-day life is far removed from the future city being shopped around regional capitals.

Pressed about where Gaza’s people would go during what would necessarily be a total teardown and rebuild, the presentation is thin: talk of “temporary shelter” and “field hospitals” crops up briefly, but the details are left hanging. That omission haunts the proposal as much as the rubble itself. Rebuilding means not only pouring concrete and laying fiber-optic cables; it means reknitting frayed lives and communities. These are not footnotes—these are the heart of the matter.

Skepticism is just about the only thing in ample supply. Steven Cook, a seasoned hand at the Council on Foreign Relations, puts it with bracing frankness: unless Hamas gives up its weapons, you can forget about cranes and bulldozers. That’s not simply a political opinion but a recognition of phase two in the old Trump-era peace plan, where dividing up investment is only possible if disarmament occurs first—a prospect that at the moment seems distant at best.

Washington isn’t exactly jumping for joy either. Marco Rubio, now Secretary of State, said aloud what many in the administration are whispering: who in their right mind would risk billions in Gaza, knowing that renewed fighting could erase their investment overnight? It isn’t only money at risk, Rubio points out, but lives and any remaining sense of hope among Palestinians.

Still, amid the tangle of realpolitik, not everyone is standing aside. Greece, eager to expand its influence in the region and wary of Turkey’s ambitions, is weighing the possibility of dispatching engineers and construction crews—if, and it’s a big if, there’s a durable peace to build upon. For Israel, this is more than a construction project; it’s a chess move. The government would much rather see Greek boots on the ground than Turkish, entwining strategic alliances that reach far beyond Gaza’s horizon.

The regional stakes are, if anything, getting higher. Greece and Israel, sharing a wary eye on Ankara’s “Blue Homeland” ambitions, are discussing who, exactly, gets a seat at the reconstruction table—and who sets the terms. As one adviser to Athens told me, “It’s essential for Israel to know who will have authority in Gaza, under what mandate, and with whom those forces will coordinate.” Alliances, once fluid, are hardening. The balance could tip with a single diplomatic misstep.

In the end, Project Sunrise remains little more than an idea on a laptop—slides clicking by in conference rooms, hope and disbelief mingling in equal measure. For those gazing out over Gaza’s shattered skyline, the promise of something better remains, stubbornly, just out of reach. The challenges are immense: logistical, yes, but also deeply human. For all its ambition, any lasting change in Gaza will depend not only on big money or blueprints, but on the world’s willingness to confront the reality on the ground—and, perhaps, to listen to the voices of the people whose futures are at stake. Until then, the line between vision and mirage remains as faint and shifting as the Mediterranean horizon at dusk.

There’s a moment, every so often in the Middle East, when an audacious idea appears out of the dust and devastation—something with the power either to inspire or to bewilder. This time, it’s called Project Sunrise: a $112 billion vision promoted by Jared Kushner and real estate developer Steve Witkoff, who believe Gaza, battered and bruised by war, can be transformed into a gleaming showcase for the region. It’s not just another rebuilding proposal. Picture, if you can—a futuristic city stitched together by artificial intelligence, luxury hotels nudging up against a turquoise Mediterranean, high-speed trains knitting neighborhoods once cut off by conflict. The pitch makes for a dramatic PowerPoint—32 slides, by some accounts—but for many observers, it prompts more frowns than applause.The basic structure is bold. The United States, if all went according to plan, would put forward $60 billion over ten years, a mixture of grants and guarantees. The rest? Open to the world, or at least to whomever Kushner and Witkoff can persuade to back the dream. Yet as of now, the list of willing investors remains largely a mystery. That lack of clarity would be troubling anywhere, but in a place as volatile as Gaza, it’s downright perilous.What the slides promise is dazzling: sleek infrastructure, smart systems running on the latest tech, even beachfront developments most Gazans today might struggle to imagine. But in stark contrast to these digital renderings, the reality on the ground is all too grim. Mountains of concrete—an estimated 68 million tons—block streets and flatten histories. For more than two million Palestinians, many already displaced and traumatized, day-to-day life is far removed from the future city being shopped around regional capitals.Pressed about where Gaza’s people would go during what would necessarily be a total teardown and rebuild, the presentation is thin: talk of “temporary shelter” and “field hospitals” crops up briefly, but the details are left hanging. That omission haunts the proposal as much as the rubble itself. Rebuilding means not only pouring concrete and laying fiber-optic cables; it means reknitting frayed lives and communities. These are not footnotes—these are the heart of the matter.Skepticism is just about the only thing in ample supply. Steven Cook, a seasoned hand at the Council on Foreign Relations, puts it with bracing frankness: unless Hamas gives up its weapons, you can forget about cranes and bulldozers. That’s not simply a political opinion but a recognition of phase two in the old Trump-era peace plan, where dividing up investment is only possible if disarmament occurs first—a prospect that at the moment seems distant at best.Washington isn’t exactly jumping for joy either. Marco Rubio, now Secretary of State, said aloud what many in the administration are whispering: who in their right mind would risk billions in Gaza, knowing that renewed fighting could erase their investment overnight? It isn’t only money at risk, Rubio points out, but lives and any remaining sense of hope among Palestinians.Still, amid the tangle of realpolitik, not everyone is standing aside. Greece, eager to expand its influence in the region and wary of Turkey’s ambitions, is weighing the possibility of dispatching engineers and construction crews—if, and it’s a big if, there’s a durable peace to build upon. For Israel, this is more than a construction project; it’s a chess move. The government would much rather see Greek boots on the ground than Turkish, entwining strategic alliances that reach far beyond Gaza’s horizon.The regional stakes are, if anything, getting higher. Greece and Israel, sharing a wary eye on Ankara’s “Blue Homeland” ambitions, are discussing who, exactly, gets a seat at the reconstruction table—and who sets the terms. As one adviser to Athens told me, “It’s essential for Israel to know who will have authority in Gaza, under what mandate, and with whom those forces will coordinate.” Alliances, once fluid, are hardening. The balance could tip with a single diplomatic misstep.In the end, Project Sunrise remains little more than an idea on a laptop—slides clicking by in conference rooms, hope and disbelief mingling in equal measure. For those gazing out over Gaza’s shattered skyline, the promise of something better remains, stubbornly, just out of reach. The challenges are immense: logistical, yes, but also deeply human. For all its ambition, any lasting change in Gaza will depend not only on big money or blueprints, but on the world’s willingness to confront the reality on the ground—and, perhaps, to listen to the voices of the people whose futures are at stake. Until then, the line between vision and mirage remains as faint and shifting as the Mediterranean horizon at dusk.