GAZA — WHAT IT WAS, WHAT IT IS, AND WHAT IT COULD HAVE BEEN
Peace should not be judged solely by the absence of violence, but also by the opportunities it creates for ordinary people.
PART I — THE FUTURE THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
Imagine a Mediterranean coastline lined with hotels, restaurants and thriving businesses.
An international airport connecting Gaza to the world.
Natural gas reserves providing energy, revenue and investment.
Universities educating the next generation of engineers, doctors and entrepreneurs.
A transport corridor connecting Gaza and the West Bank, with opportunities for trade, employment and cooperation with neighbouring Israel and Egypt.
This is not an entirely imaginary picture.
Gaza has approximately 40 kilometres of Mediterranean coastline. An international airport opened in November 1998. Offshore natural gas was discovered in 2000. Agreements were negotiated to establish safe passage between Gaza and the West Bank.
The physical resources existed. Some of the infrastructure had already been built. International governments had committed funding and political support.
What was missing was the sustained political stability, security and institutional cooperation necessary to turn those assets into lasting prosperity.
What if Hamas had never existed?
What if Gaza had instead been governed by leaders whose ambitions centred on economic success, education, employment and peaceful coexistence?
What if Israel, Egypt and the wider international community had helped such a government develop reliable access to markets, investment and international transport?
Could Gaza have become a prosperous Mediterranean economy?
There are no guarantees in such an alternative history. Gaza would still have faced considerable political, geographical and economic challenges. But the possibilities were real enough to deserve serious consideration.
And that raises the question at the heart of this article:
How did a territory with such potential become so deeply associated with conflict, destruction and humanitarian dependency?
The Mediterranean Coastline
Gaza's coastline could have been one of its most valuable economic assets. Across the Mediterranean, coastal communities have built industries around tourism, hospitality, fishing, recreation and maritime trade.
Gaza possessed the geography for some of those opportunities. Its beaches, Mediterranean climate and proximity to regional markets offered possibilities for hotels, restaurants, leisure facilities and small businesses.
There is no reason to assume Gaza could simply have replicated Dubai, whose development depended on very different resources, institutions and circumstances. Nevertheless, Dubai demonstrates what sustained investment, infrastructure and international connectivity can achieve.
Gaza's economic future might have been more modest, but no less meaningful to its people.
A successful hotel creates more than accommodation. It creates employment for builders, electricians, cleaners, cooks, drivers, suppliers and local businesses.
A functioning tourism industry can provide opportunities for young people who might otherwise see little prospect of employment.
But tourism depends on something fundamental: visitors must feel safe, investors must have confidence, and businesses must be able to operate predictably. Without those conditions, geography alone offers little protection against economic decline.
The Airport — An International Investment in Possibility
On 24 November 1998, Gaza opened its international airport, commonly known as Gaza International Airport and also as Yasser Arafat International Airport. The airport was more than a runway.
It represented the possibility that Palestinians might connect directly with the wider world through commerce, travel, education and diplomacy. International partners helped finance and equip the project. For a territory whose movement and trade had long been constrained, the airport was a tangible expression of economic ambition.
Its operation was short-lived. Following the outbreak of the Second Intifada, Israeli military action damaged its facilities in 2001 and 2002, leaving it unable to function. The airport's history reflects the fragility of infrastructure built without a durable political settlement.
There is also a question of symbolism.
Yasser Arafat was internationally recognised as a Palestinian national leader and received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1994 for his role in the Oslo peace process. Yet his earlier leadership of the Palestine Liberation Organization was also associated with a movement whose constituent factions carried out attacks against civilians, a point I will return to later in this piece.
For some Palestinians, naming the airport after Arafat represented national identity and the pursuit of statehood. For others, his political history made him a more complicated symbol. Airports often commemorate political leaders, but they can also celebrate artists, writers and cultural figures.
Liverpool, for example, named its airport after John Lennon in 2002. Perhaps the naming of an airport is about something more than honouring an individual. It is also about what kind of future a society chooses to imagine, and the symbols it selects to represent that future.
The Palestinians are not short of their own cultural figures. Here I name six:
Top Left to Right:
Mahmoud Darwish (1941–2008)
Internationally celebrated Palestinian poet whose writing explored identity, exile, belonging and homeland. Perhaps the strongest literary candidate.
Khalil al-Sakakini (1878–1953)
Educator, writer and intellectual associated with educational reform and Palestinian cultural life.
Fadwa Tuqan (1917–2003)
Celebrated Palestinian poet whose work addressed personal freedom, women's experiences and Palestinian identity.
Bottom Left to Right:
Edward Said (1935–2003)
Palestinian-American scholar, literary critic and public intellectual, internationally recognised for his work on culture, representation and politics.
Ismail Shammout (1930–2006)
Prominent Palestinian artist whose paintings depicted Palestinian history, displacement and collective memory.
Ibrahim Tuqan (1905–1941)
Influential Palestinian poet associated with national identity and patriotic verse.
Safe Passage — From Separation to Integration
Another opportunity lay in connecting Gaza with the West Bank. The 1995 Israeli–Palestinian Interim Agreement envisaged arrangements for safe passage between the two territories, and a route began operating in 1999. The importance of this idea extended far beyond transporting people from one place to another.
A functioning connection could have supported family life, education, employment, business and the development of a more integrated Palestinian economy. One can imagine its gradual evolution. Initially, a carefully controlled transport corridor, with agreed security procedures and reliable schedules. Then, as confidence developed, greater movement for workers, students, goods and commercial vehicles.
Eventually, perhaps, a transport system integrated with wider regional networks, encouraging trade and contact between Palestinian and Israeli communities. Such a progression would have required extraordinary political cooperation and mutual confidence.
It was never guaranteed. But the principle was worth pursuing. The ultimate measure of success would not have been how securely the corridor separated Palestinians from Israelis, but how safely it allowed them to interact.
Gaza Marine — The Natural Gas Opportunity
In 2000, offshore natural gas was discovered in the Gaza Marine field. Common estimates place its reserves at approximately one trillion cubic feet. For a small and economically constrained territory, that represented a potentially significant source of revenue, energy supply and investment.
Developing the field would have required commercial agreements, infrastructure, financing and cooperation over security and access. Those conditions proved difficult to establish.
Natural gas alone would not have transformed Gaza into a wealthy economy. Resource discoveries can also create corruption and political disputes if revenues are poorly managed. But properly developed, the field could have contributed to electricity generation, public finances and long-term economic planning.
Once again, an opportunity existed. Once again, the political and security environment prevented its full realisation.
What Might Gaza Have Become?
Consider these possibilities together.
A coastline capable of supporting tourism and hospitality.
An airport connecting people and businesses with international markets.
A transport corridor facilitating movement and commerce.
Natural gas providing energy and public revenue.
None guaranteed prosperity. All depended on competent government, functioning institutions, security and cooperation with neighbouring countries. Yet they suggest that Gaza's economic possibilities were not merely imaginary.
The coastline existed. The airport was built. The gas was discovered. The transport agreements were negotiated.
What proved far more difficult was creating the political and security conditions in which those opportunities could flourish. And that brings us to the demonstrations taking place around the world today.
PART II — THE DEMONSTRATIONS AND THE NEXT GENERATION
What Are We Teaching Our Young People?
The third anniversary of the Hamas attacks of 7 October 2023 has brought renewed attention to the conflict and to demonstrations held in solidarity with Palestinians. The right to demonstrate peacefully is fundamental to democratic society.
The suffering of Palestinian civilians deserves serious concern. The destruction of homes, the loss of family members, the disruption of education and the collapse of ordinary life are tragedies that should trouble anyone, whatever their political sympathies.
But I find myself asking what some of the young people marching in these demonstrations understand about Gaza's history and the opportunities that have been lost. Their anger at Israel may reflect genuine concern about military operations, civilian casualties, occupation and restrictions on Palestinian life. Those are legitimate subjects for protest and scrutiny.
But why does the anger directed at Israel so often appear more visible than the anger directed at Hamas and the decisions of Gaza's own political leadership?
Hamas won a majority of seats in the Palestinian legislative election of January 2006, although it did not win a majority of the popular vote. Following its violent confrontation with Fatah in June 2007, Hamas established control over Gaza.
Palestinians have not subsequently been given the opportunity to choose a new national government through elections.
Many of today's young Gazans were not even born when those elections took place. Yet Hamas's political and military decisions have profoundly affected their lives. Should those marching through London and other major cities across the world, in solidarity with Palestinians, not also be asking what Hamas has delivered for the people it claims to represent?
What has its strategy achieved in terms of economic independence, employment, education, infrastructure and peaceful coexistence?
And how should its attacks on Israeli civilians, particularly those of 7 October 2023, be assessed against the consequences for the Palestinian population?
These questions do not diminish Israel's responsibilities under international law. Nor do they excuse civilian suffering caused by Israeli military operations. But if the objective is genuinely to improve Palestinian lives, scrutiny cannot stop at Israel's borders.
It must extend to Palestinian political leadership, its decisions, its methods and its record of government.
The Significance of 7 October
The date of a demonstration can carry a message as powerful as its slogans. On 7 October 2023, Hamas-led attackers killed approximately 1,200 people in Israel and took around 250 hostages. Civilians were deliberately targeted, and the attacks included grave abuses.
For Israelis and Jewish communities around the world, the anniversary is a day of mourning and remembrance. Demonstrations for Palestinian rights held on that date may be intended to draw attention to Gaza's suffering. That intention should not automatically be interpreted as support for Hamas.
Nevertheless, organisers should consider how the timing may be understood by those remembering the victims of the attacks.
Would a different date strengthen the credibility of a humanitarian message rather than risk obscuring it?
More importantly, what are demonstrators actually demanding? An end to civilian suffering is an understandable demand. But what political settlement, security arrangements and governing institutions would make such an end sustainable? Without answers, protest risks expressing anger without offering a credible route towards peace.
Solidarity, Selective Outrage and Antisemitism
Support for Palestinian rights is not inherently antisemitic. Criticism of the Israeli government, its military operations or its policies is not inherently antisemitic either. These distinctions matter.
But hostility towards Jews because they are Jews is antisemitism, regardless of the political language used to justify it. Jewish people living in London, Paris, New York or elsewhere are not collectively responsible for decisions made by the Israeli government.
There is also a broader question about the consistency of international outrage. Why do some humanitarian crises attract enormous public demonstrations while others receive comparatively limited attention?
The war in Yemen has produced years of civilian suffering, displacement and humanitarian need.
The mass detention and repression of Uyghurs and other predominantly Muslim communities in China's Xinjiang region has been extensively documented.
Thousands of Iranians have been reported killed by the state as they rise up against the regime.
Yet none of these cases have consistently generated the same scale of international protest in many Western cities as the Israel–Palestine conflict.
There may be many explanations: media attention, historical connections, political organisation, perceived influence over governments and the symbolic significance of Jerusalem. Selective attention does not, by itself, establish prejudice. Nevertheless, it is reasonable to ask whether our humanitarian principles are being applied consistently.
If civilian suffering is the moral foundation of our concern, should that concern not extend beyond the conflicts that dominate our political conversations?
Teaching History, Not Simply Allegiance
Young people deserve more than slogans.
Do they understand the distinction between Hamas, the Palestinian Authority, the PLO and ordinary Palestinian civilians?
Do they know about the conflicts involving Palestinian armed factions in Jordan and Lebanon?
Do they understand the Oslo agreements, Gaza's airport, the proposed transport corridor or the discovery of offshore natural gas?
Are they being encouraged to examine the decisions of all political actors, including those claiming to represent the Palestinian cause?
Or are we sometimes teaching them what to think before teaching them how to think? Solidarity should not require the suspension of critical thinking. And concern for Palestinian lives should include asking difficult questions of those who claim to lead and defend them.
PART III — THE QUESTIONS WE RARELY ASK
The Apartheid Comparison
The word apartheid carries enormous historical and moral weight. In South Africa, apartheid was a formal system of racial segregation and domination, enforced through legislation from 1948 until the democratic transition of 1994.
The term is now also used in international law to describe certain systems of institutionalised domination and oppression.
Human rights organisations and legal experts have applied that description to Israeli policies towards Palestinians. Israel rejects the allegation, arguing that it misrepresents its legal system and the security context.
A meaningful discussion requires distinctions.
Arab citizens of Israel possess citizenship, voting rights and access to public institutions, although discrimination and inequalities remain subjects of legitimate concern. Palestinians living under Israeli occupation in the West Bank occupy a very different legal and political position. These circumstances should not be treated as identical. One example illustrates the complexity.
Salim Joubran, an Arab Christian Israeli jurist, served on Israel's Supreme Court.
On 10 November 2011, he was a member of the three-justice panel that unanimously upheld former Israeli President Moshe Katsav's rape conviction and seven-year prison sentence.
Moshe Katsav Salim Joubran Ehud Olmert
In December 2015, Joubran chaired a five-justice panel hearing former Prime Minister Ehud Olmert's appeal in the Holyland corruption case. The court partially overturned Olmert's conviction and reduced his prison sentence, while Joubran disagreed with the majority on an important bribery count.
Here was an Arab judge exercising judicial authority in cases involving two of Israel's most senior Jewish political figures. That is a significant institutional fact, and one that complicates simplistic portrayals of Israel's domestic legal system. It does not, however, resolve the separate questions surrounding occupation, settlements, military administration and the rights of Palestinians who are not Israeli citizens.
The strength of an argument should rest on its ability to accommodate such distinctions, not on its capacity to reduce them to a slogan.
Humanitarian Assistance — Relief, Dependency and Accountability
Gaza has depended heavily on international humanitarian assistance for decades. UN agencies, private charities and local organisations have provided essential food, healthcare, education and shelter, often under extraordinarily difficult conditions. Their work saves lives and deserves recognition.
Nevertheless, prolonged humanitarian crises raise questions about the institutions established to respond to them.
My particular concern is with privately operated charities and NGOs that depend on public donations, grants and institutional funding.
Two concepts deserve consideration: mission drift and empire-building.
Mission drift occurs when an organisation gradually moves away from its original purpose.
Empire-building occurs when expanding budgets, staffing, influence and organisational reach become objectives in themselves.
Neither necessarily involves corruption. Growth may reflect genuine humanitarian need, and professional administration is essential to effective relief operations. But when an emergency continues for decades, we should ask whether an organisation's structure and priorities remain aligned with the interests of the people it serves.
How much funding reaches beneficiaries?
How effectively are outcomes measured?
What proportion supports immediate relief, and what contributes to reducing long-term dependency?
These questions require evidence from audited accounts, governance records and independent evaluations, rather than assumptions based on an organisation's size or continued presence.
Humanitarian charities cannot resolve political conflicts or independently establish the conditions for peace. Those responsibilities belong principally to governments and political institutions.
But where circumstances permit, assistance should also help people become less dependent on assistance.
The ultimate measure of humanitarian success should not simply be how much aid an organisation delivers, but whether the people it serves are moving towards a future in which they need less of it.
And the central question remains:
Are humanitarian organisations structured primarily to fulfil their mission, or can the continued growth of the organisation gradually become a mission of its own?
Who Bears Responsibility for Gaza's Future?
The question of responsibility cannot be answered by pointing to one actor alone. Israel's military operations, occupation-related policies and restrictions on movement and trade have shaped Palestinian lives and economic opportunities.
Egypt's border policies have also affected Gaza's access to the outside world. Hamas's armed strategy, attacks on civilians, internal repression and record of government require equally serious examination.
The Palestinian Authority, regional governments and international actors have made decisions that have influenced the prospects for peace and development. These responsibilities are not identical in nature or scale. But a serious attempt to understand Gaza's circumstances must be prepared to examine them all.
A political movement should not be judged solely by the cause it proclaims. It should also be judged by the methods it employs and the consequences of its decisions for the people it claims to represent. That principle should apply to governments and armed movements alike.
PART IV — THE HISTORY BEHIND THE CONFLICT
Palestine — Establishing the Historical Record
The territory historically known as Palestine has been home to diverse religious and ethnic communities for centuries. Jewish historical and religious connections to the land are ancient. Palestinian Arab communities also possess deep historical roots and a distinct national identity.
For approximately four centuries, from the early sixteenth century until the First World War, the area formed part of the Ottoman Empire. Following the Ottoman defeat, Britain assumed control under the Mandate system.
Jewish immigration increased, particularly as antisemitism and persecution intensified in Europe. Arab opposition to Zionism and fears over political control, land and national self-determination also grew.
In 1947, the United Nations proposed partition into Jewish and Arab states, with a special international arrangement for Jerusalem. Jewish leaders accepted the plan in principle, while Arab leaders rejected it.
Israel declared independence in May 1948. The ensuing war resulted in Israel's survival and territorial expansion beyond the proposed partition boundaries. Hundreds of thousands of Palestinians fled or were expelled from their homes, an event Palestinians remember as the Nakba, or catastrophe.
In 1967, Israel captured the West Bank, East Jerusalem and Gaza during the Six-Day War. These events established much of the territorial and political framework that continues to shape the conflict.
History cannot be reduced to a simple story of one population arriving and another disappearing.
Nor can the legitimate national aspirations of either Israelis or Palestinians be dismissed.
The tragedy is that competing claims, wars, displacement and political decisions have repeatedly obstructed a settlement capable of protecting both peoples.
The PLO, Arafat and Armed Struggle
The Palestine Liberation Organisation was established in 1964 and became the principal international representative of the Palestinian national movement. Yasser Arafat emerged as its dominant leader through Fatah.
For many Palestinians, the PLO symbolised national identity and resistance to displacement and occupation. But its history also includes armed attacks against civilians, carried out by factions within or associated with the broader Palestinian militant movement.
The 1972 Munich Olympics massacre, in which eleven Israeli team members were killed, was carried out by Black September, a group linked to Fatah.
The 1978 Coastal Road attack in Israel, carried out by Fatah militants, killed 38 Israelis.
Such attacks cannot be treated as incidental details of the movement's history. They are essential to understanding why Israel regarded elements of the PLO as a major security threat and why trust proved so difficult to establish.
The PLO's political direction later changed.
In September 1993, Arafat formally recognised Israel's right to exist in peace and security and renounced terrorism and other acts of violence on behalf of the PLO. That commitment helped make the Oslo process possible.
It did not erase the past, nor did it resolve the conflict. But it demonstrated that movements previously committed to armed struggle could, at least formally, adopt political negotiation as an alternative.
Palestinian-on-Palestinian Violence — An Overlooked History
There is another aspect of Palestinian history that receives comparatively little attention in public demonstrations and political debate.
The killing of Palestinians by other Palestinians.
During the First Intifada, which began in December 1987, Palestinian civilians suspected of collaborating with Israeli authorities were targeted by Palestinian militants and local groups. Some were accused of passing information to Israeli security services. Others became victims of intimidation, personal disputes, factional rivalries or accusations that were never properly substantiated.
These were not simply disagreements between political organisations. They involved the abduction, interrogation, torture and killing of Palestinians by fellow Palestinians.
Human rights organisations documented hundreds of such deaths during the uprising and its aftermath. The precise totals vary according to the period examined and the criteria used, but the scale of the violence was substantial.
Many of those accused were denied anything resembling a fair judicial process. Suspicion alone could place an individual, and sometimes their family, in grave danger.
The pattern did not end with the First Intifada.
During the violent confrontation between Hamas and Fatah in 2007, Palestinians again killed fellow Palestinians in a struggle for political and territorial control. The result was a divided Palestinian political system, with Hamas governing Gaza and the Palestinian Authority exercising limited authority in parts of the West Bank.
This history deserves attention not because it diminishes Palestinian suffering at the hands of Israeli forces, but because it reveals another source of suffering that is too easily overlooked.
Palestinians have suffered not only from conflict with Israel, but also from violence inflicted by political movements and armed groups claiming to represent or defend them.
If our concern is genuinely for the lives and future of ordinary Palestinians, should we not also be prepared to examine that history?
And should the protection of Palestinians from violence by their own political factions not be considered just as fundamental to their future as protection from external threats?
Jordan — Black September
In 1970, tensions between the Jordanian monarchy and Palestinian armed organisations escalated into violent confrontation. Palestinian factions had developed considerable military and political autonomy within Jordan, challenging the authority of the state.
The resulting conflict, commonly known as Black September, caused substantial loss of life and culminated in the expulsion of the principal Palestinian armed organisations from Jordan by 1971.
For the Jordanian government, the central issue was state sovereignty and the presence of armed groups operating outside its authority. For Palestinians, the events became another painful chapter in their history of displacement and conflict.
The episode illustrates that the struggle over Palestinian armed movements was not confined to Israel. It also involved tensions with neighbouring Arab governments.
Lebanon — From the Riviera of the Middle East to a Nation in Crisis
There was a time when Lebanon represented one of the Middle East's most attractive destinations for tourism, education, banking and international business.
Beirut was frequently described as the Paris of the Middle East.
Lebanon's Mediterranean coast, fashionable hotels, restaurants, cultural life and cosmopolitan atmosphere attracted visitors from across the Arab world and beyond. The country became known for its banking sector, universities, publishing industry and entrepreneurial energy.
Wealthy families from neighbouring countries sent their children to Lebanese schools and universities. It was a country to which people travelled for opportunity.
This prosperity was not universal. Lebanon also faced serious social inequalities, sectarian tensions and political weaknesses. Nevertheless, its reputation for commercial vitality and cultural openness was substantial.
The 1969 Cairo Agreement had given Palestinian armed groups greater scope to operate from Lebanese territory. Following their expulsion from Jordan in 1970–71, significant elements of the PLO relocated to Lebanon. The arrival and growing influence of these Palestinian armed organisations became one element in an increasingly unstable political environment.
Their presence contributed to tensions over sovereignty, security and relations with Israel. Lebanon's civil war, beginning in 1975 and lasting until 1990, involved numerous Lebanese factions and foreign powers. Its causes were complex, and it would be inaccurate to attribute the war solely to the PLO.
The subsequent rise of Hezbollah added another powerful armed political movement to Lebanon's landscape. Hezbollah emerged during the 1980s, with Iranian support, amid the circumstances surrounding Israel's 1982 invasion and the wider Lebanese conflict.
Lebanon's later difficulties have extended far beyond those earlier wars. Political paralysis, corruption, institutional weakness, financial mismanagement and repeated conflict contributed to a devastating economic collapse beginning in 2019.
The Beirut port explosion of August 2020 compounded the country's suffering.
The banking system that once attracted international wealth became associated with frozen deposits and shattered confidence.
Many Lebanese citizens, including highly educated professionals, sought opportunities abroad.
A country once celebrated for its ability to attract people and investment became one from which many were desperate to leave. Lebanon did not lose its talent, geography, culture or entrepreneurial traditions.
It lost much of the stability and institutional confidence necessary for those advantages to flourish.
There is a lesson here that extends beyond Lebanon. Economic potential does not guarantee economic success. Prosperity depends on institutions capable of maintaining security, enforcing laws, protecting investment and preventing armed factions from overriding the authority of the state.
Perhaps the most troubling lesson is that prosperity can take generations to build, but the conditions sustaining it can be destroyed far more quickly. And with that history in mind, we return to Gaza.
Oslo — An Opportunity for Political and Economic Change
The Oslo process began in 1993 with mutual recognition between Israel and the PLO. The agreements envisaged a gradual transfer of certain governing responsibilities to Palestinian institutions and further negotiations over unresolved issues.
In 1994, the Paris Protocol established arrangements governing important aspects of economic relations between Israel and the Palestinian territories. These arrangements created opportunities for cooperation but also reinforced significant economic dependence on Israel.
Oslo was never a completed peace settlement...
Borders, Jerusalem, refugees, settlements and security remained deeply contested.
Violence, mistrust, settlement expansion, political opposition and failures of implementation undermined confidence on both sides.
Nevertheless, the agreements represented a period in which diplomatic negotiation and economic development appeared capable of replacing at least some of the conflict's destructive patterns.
Gaza's airport and the safe-passage arrangements emerged within that broader atmosphere of possibility. Their failure illustrates the difficulty of building economic confidence when political trust remains fragile.
Hamas — Ideology, Government and Political Responsibility
Hamas was founded in 1987 during the First Intifada, emerging from the Palestinian Muslim Brotherhood movement. Its original 1988 covenant combined Palestinian nationalism with Islamist ideology and included explicitly antisemitic material.
In 2017, Hamas issued a new political document that altered some of its language and positions, including distinguishing Jews as a religious group from Zionists as a political adversary.
The document did not constitute recognition of Israel.
Hamas developed both a political organisation and an armed wing, combining social services and political participation with attacks against Israel.
Its electoral victory in 2006 reflected several factors, including disillusionment with Fatah and the Palestinian Authority. But the subsequent violent division between Hamas-controlled Gaza and the Fatah-led Palestinian Authority in the West Bank weakened Palestinian political unity.
Gaza's population was left under a government without a renewed electoral mandate. Hamas's 7 October 2023 attacks represented a catastrophic escalation. The deliberate killing and abduction of civilians cannot be justified by reference to Palestinian grievances or aspirations for statehood. Nor does condemning those crimes justify unlawful attacks on Palestinian civilians.
The consequences of Hamas's strategy for Gaza's population demand serious examination.
What was its political objective?
What realistic outcome did its leadership expect?
How did its decisions advance the economic, educational and social interests of ordinary Gazans?
And how should any political leadership be judged when its actions expose the population it governs to foreseeable devastation?
The Palestinian Authority has also faced criticism over corruption, governance, political legitimacy and financial policies, including payments associated with prisoners and families of people killed in the conflict.
President Mahmoud Abbas announced reforms to the payment system in 2025, although implementation and their practical effects require separate assessment. The wider issue is political accountability. A Palestinian state capable of providing security, economic opportunity and democratic representation would require institutions that answer to the population rather than armed organisations or entrenched political elites.
Egypt — The Other Border
Discussions of Gaza's isolation frequently concentrate on Israel.
But Gaza also shares a border with Egypt; a predominantly Muslim country, an Arab neighbour, and a longstanding participant in Palestinian affairs.
This raises an important question.
If solidarity with Palestinians is such a prominent cause throughout the Arab and Muslim world, why has Egypt also imposed significant restrictions on movement across its border with Gaza?
The answer cannot be reduced simply to religion or solidarity. Egypt has longstanding security concerns involving Hamas, its historical connections to the Muslim Brotherhood, militant activity in the Sinai Peninsula, and the possibility of instability crossing into Egyptian territory.
The Muslim Brotherhood was founded in Egypt in 1928 and became an influential movement in Islamist politics across the region. Hamas emerged from its Palestinian branch in 1987.
Egypt's relationship with the Brotherhood became particularly confrontational following the military removal of President Mohamed Morsi in July 2013. Egyptian authorities have treated the Brotherhood as a terrorist organisation, while the legal treatment of Brotherhood-linked movements varies internationally.
Egypt has also feared that large-scale displacement from Gaza into Sinai could become permanent and undermine prospects for Palestinian self-determination.
These concerns help explain its policies, although they do not eliminate the humanitarian consequences for ordinary Palestinians. The Rafah crossing (the border between Gaza and Egypt) has therefore been both a vital point of access and a recurring source of political and security controversy.
Egypt's restrictions have not been identical to Israel's, and control of the crossing has changed under different agreements and military circumstances. Nevertheless, Egypt's decisions have had substantial consequences for movement and humanitarian access.
Any serious examination of Gaza's isolation must therefore consider the policies and responsibilities of both neighbouring countries, rather than concentrating exclusively on Israel.
PART V — WHAT SHOULD WE BE DEMANDING?
We return, finally, to the question with which this article began.
What might Gaza have become?
Its coastline offered possibilities for tourism and business.
Its airport represented international connectivity.
Its offshore gas offered the prospect of energy and revenue.
Its proposed transport links offered the possibility of economic integration and greater freedom of movement.
These opportunities were never guarantees. Israel's policies, Palestinian political divisions, armed violence, regional security concerns and repeated failures of diplomacy all affected whether or not they could be realised. But they were opportunities worth protecting.
The question now is not whether Gaza can recover the years that have been lost. It cannot. The question is whether the next generation can be offered something better. That requires more than the cessation of fighting, essential though that is.
It requires security for Israelis and Palestinians.
It requires political institutions that are accountable to the people they govern.
It requires protection of civilians, respect for international law and credible arrangements to prevent renewed attacks.
It requires access to education, employment, infrastructure, investment and markets.
It requires governments and international organisations to measure success not only by immediate relief delivered, but by whether ordinary people are gaining the means to build independent lives.
And it requires a willingness to challenge the decisions of political leaders and armed movements on all sides.
For those demonstrating around the world, perhaps the most useful demand is not simply that one side should be condemned. It is that those claiming to speak for the people of Gaza should explain, in practical terms, how they intend to secure a future in which children can grow up without war and families can plan their lives with confidence.
What system of government would they support?
How would they protect the population from renewed conflict?
How would they develop the coastline, restore international transport, improve energy supplies and attract investment?
How would they build constructive relations with Israel and Egypt?
How would they ensure that young Palestinians have a genuine say in choosing their leaders?
These are not questions that diminish the suffering of Gaza's people. They are questions that take their future seriously. A generation should not be condemned to inherit only the grievances and failures of those who came before it. It should inherit the possibility of something better.
Peace should not be judged solely by the absence of violence, but also by the opportunities it creates for ordinary people.
Anthony Hegarty MSc (Criminal Psychology & Criminology) DSRM RISK
Comments