Gaza Earthquake... and Its Repercussions in American Ballot Boxes

They sought to reshape Gaza, only for the war to reshape the questions in their capitals. They spoke of uprooting its people and turning its coastline into the “Riviera of the Middle East,” as if the land had no owners, and as if the rubble concealed the rights of children and women who had lived upon it. Today, Trump faces political and electoral repercussions that have reached the heart of Washington. Gaza, which they imagined as a file to be closed through brute force, has returned to prominence in debates over conscience and national interest, and in the American reckoning with the price of war and the limits of blind bias toward Israel.

Since the Al-Aqsa Flood on October 7, 2023, the region has entered a series of confrontations that exceeded expectations. The war spread to other fronts, clashes with Iran escalated, and Netanyahu ignited a fire of war until the United States became a party to it. In my view, it is difficult to separate the American electoral landscape from this sequence. As is well known, some aftershocks of an earthquake take years to manifest far from their epicenter.

The war with Iran can be viewed as an extension of the escalation following the Al-Aqsa Flood, while acknowledging the deeper roots of Israeli-Iranian hostility and the responsibility of each leadership for its decisions. However, what followed October opened doors to confrontation, and the leadership of the Zionist entity chose to widen them. The path from Gaza to regional war, and then to American polling stations, warrants an analysis that interconnects these events.

In February 2025, Trump proposed American control over Gaza, the transfer of its population, and its transformation into the “Riviera of the Middle East.” He reduced a people’s tragedy to a real estate project and national rights to a space for redistribution. Confidence in force became so dominant that it seemed the future of Palestinians was being decided at a press conference, without asking them about their land, homes, children, or the rights of their martyrs.

Today, Republicans have lost their majorities in both chambers of Congress, and Trump has acknowledged that the war with Iran contributed to the loss. The leadership, which spoke confidently about arranging the lives of others in Gaza, now faces opposition within its own country. It has retained its executive powers but lost the parliamentary majority that supported it, becoming obliged to justify its war and its costs before institutions that have grown more capable of holding it accountable.

These developments recall reports attributed to Yahya Sinwar predicting the deepening of Israel’s isolation and the return of the Palestinian issue to the forefront. I addressed this meaning when writing about the victory of Zuhair al-Mamdani, and today the scene has transcended the symbolism of a local victory to encompass broader accountability for the war, for those who decided to wage it, and for the devil that fuels it relentlessly.

The Palestinian state has not been established, and Israel retains its strength and supporters. However, its moral image has fractured, and its narrative of victimhood has eroded. Images of children, hunger, and destroyed hospitals have surpassed cover-up efforts in Zionist lobby circles. The UN Independent International Commission of Inquiry concluded that Israel committed genocide in Gaza, and the review of positions extended to European countries accustomed to relying on its support. These are shifts in the legitimacy of policies, despite the persistence of power.

It is incorrect to reduce the elections to a single factor. Inflation, domestic policies, and the president’s personality carry greater weight and depth. The results do not prove that voters cast their ballots as a victory for Palestine, but the war has become a burden acknowledged by its leaders, and its costs have extended to the lives of Americans. The impact of Gaza is read within this trajectory, without turning analysis into certainty.

The victories of Abdulrahman “Abdul” Siddeeq in the Michigan Senate race and Ilhan Omar’s re-election to the House of Representatives dealt a direct moral blow to Trump. Siddeeq was labeled a “jihadist” and linked to terrorism without evidence, while Omar was targeted for her Somali origins and calls to return to her country of birth. This rhetoric, which questions citizenship based on religion and ethnicity, crosses the line from political opposition into incitement and discrimination. Their wins send a message that intimidation does not guarantee voters’ support, and that the collective awareness of American voters is undergoing an unprecedented historical shift.

The people of Gaza have paid a price that no party loss or shift in majority can compensate for. What Democrats and Biden did at the onset of the current upheaval is worse than Trump. The true measure of change lies in stopping the killing, protecting the survivors, rebuilding, facilitating aid delivery, and opening a path toward a Palestinian state. Realizing this requires organized, institutional political action, championed by diaspora communities, rights-based organizations, and diverse American forces. Such work must track votes on arms and aid, hold elected officials accountable for their promises, provide verified information to media and policymakers, and transform sympathy into sustained demands and pressure.

The issue goes beyond counting seats; it is about communities’ ability to hold accountable those who speak on their behalf and to refuse open-ended mandates for war. A shift in majority does not mean Washington’s policies will change overnight, as entrenched interests do not recede after a single election night. Therefore, organized follow-up is essential, so that the window of hope does not close with the winners’ celebrations and tragedy returns to the margins.

It has become common to view Republicans as closer to the Gulf and more understanding of its concerns, but the war has revealed the limitations of relying on them. The American partnership did not prevent threats from reaching us. Washington’s priorities may differ from ours, and calculations supporting Israel often take precedence over Gulf interests, despite the largest deals. Trust in allies requires clear commitments and testing them during crises; the war has exposed the limits of the presumed American protection.

Kuwait and its sister states need to review their relationships, preserve beneficial partnerships, and expand their options. Neither a Republican victory is a guarantee, nor does a Democratic victory warrant panic. Each administration has its own interests, and we have a responsibility to protect our security. Our capacity to influence increases with a common stance led by Saudi Arabia, clear demands, and readiness to shoulder our responsibilities.

What is required is a genuine Gulf union, at least in security and defense, transforming shared destiny into joint decisions and effective responses. Waters, ports, energy, and supplies are interconnected; an attack on one state extends its impact beyond its borders. In this context, pathways such as the Mecca Agreement for Joint Defense, and the leading role of Saudi Arabia within it, gain importance insofar as they add to deterrence and stability.

Strength must be accompanied by serious dialogue with Iran, based on respect for sovereignty, non-interference, and mutual interests. The Gulf has no interest in an open war, and it has the right to possess the means to prevent it and protect itself. The aftershocks of the earthquake have reached Washington, and it is incumbent upon us, being closest to the epicenter, to read the transformations and build our security through shared will, before the crises of others decide the fate of our region.