There is a special kind of madness that exists only in the mind of a real estate developer. Most normal people look at a disaster zone and see tragedy. They see broken homes, suffering families, and a history so complicated it gives diplomats migraines. But then there is Jared Kushner. Where the rest of the world sees a humanitarian crisis in Gaza, the former senior advisor sees something else entirely: a fantastic investment opportunity with a view of the ocean.

It takes a breathtaking amount of confidence to look at images of rubble and think, "You know what this place needs? Luxury condos and a marina." But that is exactly what has happened. The son-in-law of the former American president has shared his vision for the future of Gaza. It does not involve peace treaties or boring political agreements. No, his vision involves high-rise apartments, a bustling port, and a coastline that attracts tourists. Because nothing says "relaxing family vacation" quite like a trip to one of the most volatile strips of land on the planet.

Let’s be honest about what this is. This is the ultimate "fixer-upper" mentality gone wrong. We all know that one person who buys a house that is falling apart because it has "good bones." They ignore the black mold and the leaking roof because they are focused on the potential. Now, take that mindset and apply it to international geopolitics. Kushner looks at the Gaza Strip and talks about its "valuable waterfront property." He suggests that if you just move the people out and clean up the mess, you could really increase the property value. It is the language of a Miami condo broker applied to a war zone.

This approach treats history like it is just a zoning issue. In the world of high-stakes real estate, people are often seen as obstacles to development. If there are tenants in a building you want to tear down, they are a problem to be solved. Kushner’s logic seems to follow the same path. He talks about moving civilians into the desert to "clean up" the strip, as if he is preparing a vacant lot for a new shopping mall. It is a sterile, corporate way of looking at human lives. It assumes that the only thing stopping peace in the Middle East is a lack of five-star hotels.

The news reports say this vision faces "major obstacles." That is the understatement of the century. It is like saying the Titanic faced a "minor ice issue." The obstacles are not just about finding contractors or getting building permits. The obstacles are reality itself. You cannot simply pave over decades of conflict with marble floors and infinity pools. But to a hammer, everything looks like a nail. And to a developer, everything looks like an empty lot waiting for a groundbreaking ceremony.

Imagine the sales pitch for these future apartments. "Beautiful sea views, historic location, explosive potential." The disconnect between the dream and the reality is so wide you could park a cruise ship in it. But this is how a certain type of elite thinker operates. They believe that economics solves everything. They think that if you give people nice shops and a promenade, they will forget about their history and their anger. It is the "let them eat cake" of the twenty-first century, except now it is "let them buy timeshares."

There is something deeply cynical about discussing the real estate potential of a place while the dust is still settling. It suggests that nothing matters—not the pain, not the politics, not the people—except the deal. It reduces a global tragedy to a slide in a pitch deck. While the world wrings its hands over how to stop the fighting and feed the hungry, the developer class is already measuring the curtains.

In the end, this story isn't just about one man’s tone-deaf proposal. It is a perfect example of how disconnected the decision-makers are from the people they impact. They view the world from the top floor of a glass tower, looking down at the little people moving around like ants. They think they can rearrange the map like furniture in a living room. It would almost be funny if the consequences weren't so real. So, get ready for the new vision of the future: a shiny, glass-covered paradise built on a foundation of denial, where the only thing that matters is the price per square foot.