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So now it’s official. After nearly two years of war and the wholesale displacement of Gaza’s population, and enough rubble to make Dresden blush, Israel has reportedly decided to occupy Gaza—permanently. Not “pacify,” not “stabilize,” not “restore order in.” Occupy. Indefinitely. With tanks and barbed wire and bulletproof morality.

You’d be forgiven for thinking we’ve seen this film before. That’s because we have—just not with Hebrew subtitles. Iraq, Afghanistan, southern Lebanon, Syria…the set changes, but the script remains oddly familiar. A Western-backed power enters to destroy evil, discovers evil breeds underground, and then stays forever, mostly out of inertia and habit.

This time it’s called Operation Gideon’s Chariots, a name so pompous it sounds like a Vegas floor show starring the prophet Elijah and three backup singers from the IDF’s entertainment corps. And like all sequels, the special effects are bigger, the morality blurrier, and the plot harder to follow.

“Now, say what you will about the French Riviera, but it wasn’t built atop the mass graves of its original inhabitants.”

War Is Peace, Occupation Is Rescue
According to Israel’s Channel 12, a senior Netanyahu official laid it out plainly:

“The decision has been made—we’re going to occupy Gaza.”

The rationale? “If we do not act now, hostages will die of starvation and Gaza will remain under Hamas control.” Which is a bit like saying you’re going to burn down the house to save the people in the attic.

Let’s pause and admire the bureaucratic gall here. Starving civilians are the justification for the army that’s starving them. It’s a bit like FEMA withholding disaster aid unless you promise to shop at kosher supermarkets.

But that’s the modern humanitarian intervention: death by moral imperative. To save the children, we must destroy their neighborhoods. To defeat terror, we must administer it. To bring peace, we must send another battalion.

The Mediterranean Riviera of Rubble
Some of the more vision-minded voices in Netanyahu’s cabinet—those unbothered by international law or moral squeamishness—have floated a grand idea: Resettle the Palestinians somewhere else, bulldoze the ruins, and remake Gaza into a luxury resort. President Trump even described it as “the Riviera of the Mediterranean.”

Now, say what you will about the French Riviera, but it wasn’t built atop the mass graves of its original inhabitants. Then again, this is 21st-century realpolitik—colonialism without the guilt, with a TikTok travel reel instead of a Kipling poem.

No word yet on whether the first beachfront hotel will be named the Wailing Waldorf.

The Occupier’s Dilemma: Stay or Stay Forever
Gaza, it must be said, is not a willing host. The inhabitants—those not already displaced, maimed, or buried—are unlikely to greet their new landlords with flowers and fruit baskets. The more permanent the presence, the more permanent the resistance.

Israel can flatten every building in Gaza, but it cannot flatten the memory. You can bomb a mosque. You cannot bomb an idea.

Yet the plan now is clear: Control every inch, because letting go might look like weakness, and looking weak is the one thing modern democracies simply can’t afford. Not after this many funerals.

Meanwhile, in the Holy Land of Optics
Across the border, U.S. House Speaker Mike Johnson has made his pilgrimage to the West Bank settlement of Ariel, declaring it the “rightful property of the Jewish people.” This would be the same Mike Johnson who recently shut down Congress to block the Epstein files, but found time to put on a yarmulke and pray at the Western Wall.

One can only admire the multitasking: protecting pedophiles at home, promoting annexation abroad. The Founding Fathers would be proud.

The Palestinian Authority responded with stern press releases and solemn talk of “violations of international law”—a reminder that when your capital is rubble, your foreign ministry becomes a literary society.

What Comes Next (Spoiler: It’s Insurgency)
So what now? Permanent occupation, backed by temporary justifications. Hostages still underground. Militants still armed. Civilians still starving. And the world still shrugging.

The insurgency will continue, as it always does. Hamas is not a building you can level or a commander you can drone. It is a condition—born of despair, nurtured by grievance, and armed by the illusion that martyrdom is all that remains.

Israel may win every battle, but it cannot win Gaza—not in the long run. You can’t garrison 2 million people without becoming something grim and familiar: not a state defending itself, but an empire in denial.

And empires, as a rule, end poorly.

End of the Beginning
So here we are again, watching a regional power try to do what superpowers couldn’t: occupy the ungovernable, outgun the unkillable, outlast the unbearable.

The hostages may yet be rescued. Or they may die. The war may end. Or it may not. But one thing’s certain: There will be more ruins, more orphans, more funerals, and another press conference to explain how it’s all part of the plan.

Because in the end, we always return to the same place: a pile of rubble, a podium, and the promise that this time—finally—we’ve solved Gaza.