Scarcity in Gaza isn’t a transient ‘humanitarian crisis’. It’s a structural policy of domination. After the ceasefire came into effect, limited quantities of food and medicine entered through traders and international institutions, but they remain insufficient. Israel manages scarcity as a control tool: it obstructs entry, determines quantities and links relief to political conditions. This transforms survival from a right to a privilege.

The cash liquidity crisis adds another layer of complexity. Since the war began, insufficient cash has entered Gaza, and what currency exists is difficult to use. Traders refuse old or worn banknotes that haven’t been renewed since the war began, so even if some goods may be available, people often cannot access them due to the collapse of the monetary system. This has transformed the market into a space based on bartering and personal relationships rather than normal economic mechanisms.

Coping strategies vary dynamically across families. Some eat only one meal per day, if that. Priorities shift constantly depending on changing conditions: in some areas, food baskets become secondary to cleaning supplies or materials for building tents and shelters, while in other areas the opposite is true. Families barter assets, postpone medical treatment and continuously recalibrate what constitutes a survivable baseline. This daily resilience shouldn’t be romanticised, because it’s a forced choice that leaves deep psychological and social impacts.

Humanitarian aid matters for immediate survival, but it’s insufficient and operates within a logic that diminishes Palestinian agency: relief is given, but rights are denied.

In conversations about accountability, there’s growing clarity: Israel, as an occupying power, bears direct legal and moral responsibility for the genocide and destruction. But the discussion doesn’t stop there. There’s sharp criticism of international complicity: western states that supply Israel with weapons and provide political cover, the United Nations, which issues resolutions without enforcement mechanisms, and human rights institutions that report violations without translating documentation into accountability. This distribution of responsibility doesn’t absolve anyone. It reveals a systemic structure of impunity.

Concepts such as accountability, human rights and guarantees of non-repetition are present in public discussion, but with a sceptical tone. People have witnessed countless reports, international court decisions and calls for accountability without these translating into consequences for Israel. As a result, there’s a growing sense that what’s needed isn’t more condemnation, but actual mechanisms that ensure accountability and prevent repetition. Human rights discourse remains useful for mobilisation, but loses credibility when not paired with tangible measures.

Civil society in Gaza operates under exceptional conditions, but it hasn’t stopped. Despite the destruction of hundreds of offices and the killing of dozens of staff members, community leaders, informal networks and local organisations continue to fill critical gaps: distributing relief, providing psychological first aid, documenting violations and protecting the most vulnerable, including children, women and people with disabilities.

But there are many obstacles. First, funding: the war has seen a proliferation of crowdfunding campaigns, but much of this money flows to informal networks that exploit wartime chaos for material gain, rather than reaching those genuinely in need or formal civil society institutions that contribute systematically to relief and recovery. Community kitchens, temporary education tents and psychosocial support teams all operate with very limited resources.

The second problem is access: northern Gaza is isolated, as are areas east of the Yellow Line and eastern Gaza Strip, and organisations struggle to reach these zones. The third challenge is coordination, which is made extremely difficult by the absence of a unified authority.

Some obstacles are deliberate: Israel directly targets civil society by bombing centres, preventing entry of equipment and arresting staff or restricting their movement. Far from ‘collateral damage’, this is systematic targeting of civil infrastructure.

The crisis is escalating with the suspension of over 35 international organisations from working in all occupied Palestinian territories, on the pretext of not registering with the Coordination of Government Activities in the Territories. This will severely impact on humanitarian projects in Gaza, particularly in the areas of education, health, shelter and water and sanitation.

But we shouldn’t romanticise civil society’s role as a substitute for political rights. Civil society groups can fill emergency gaps, but can’t — and shouldn’t be asked to — compensate for the absence of sovereignty or the denial of basic rights.

The people of Gaza appreciate solidarity, but also recognise that moral support alone doesn’t stop bombs. What’s needed is pressure that translates into political decisions: an arms embargo, economic sanctions and institutional boycotts. Popular solidarity helps build a base for change, but change itself requires political will, and that political will remains largely absent.

Many saw digital solidarity peak early in the war but quickly fade, shifting from sustained political commitment to temporary emotional gestures. This raises uncomfortable questions: are Palestinians being genuinely heard, or simply consumed as visual content?

A prime example was the All Eyes on Rafah campaign, which peaked in May 2024. It felt like a symbolic turning point, but remained confined to the visual space without tangible political impact. Once the Israeli invasion of Rafah was complete and Gaza turned into an isolated zone cut off from Egypt, we witnessed no digital interaction. No new narratives were woven, not even nominal attention. The image disappeared because the story disappeared. And it disappeared strategically, without real digital echo.

Repression against solidarity movements abroad is understood as part of the same system that denies Palestinians voice and agency. It resonates as another expression of the broader architecture of impunity: even advocacy for Palestinian rights is increasingly delegitimised, penalised and restricted.

What should the international community do to address the situation?

What Gazans need from the international community is straightforward: a complete end to the war, comprehensive relief, recovery support and full reconstruction.

But there’s growing concern that Gaza is increasingly viewed as an investment opportunity rather than a humanitarian catastrophe. Before announcing his election victory, Donald Trump spoke of turning Gaza into a ‘riviera’. Dozens of reconstruction plans have emerged, but most barely mention Palestinian sovereignty or empowerment. This reflects disaster capitalism at work: the reconstruction, which will cost billions, is seen as a chance to extract geopolitical gains. Reconstruction must be Palestinian-led, not externally managed.

The international community should support Palestinian local governance arrangements such as the NCAG, not by imposing them, but by enabling them. Governance must be Palestinian in decision-making, rather than externally dictated or conditioned by international agendas.

Additionally, it should activate international accountability mechanisms, including prosecution of perpetrators through the International Criminal Court and enforcement of the Apartheid Convention.

What Gazans need from the international community is straightforward: a complete end to the war, comprehensive relief, recovery support and full reconstruction.

But there’s growing concern that Gaza is increasingly viewed as an investment opportunity rather than a humanitarian catastrophe. Before announcing his election victory, Donald Trump spoke of turning Gaza into a ‘riviera’. Dozens of reconstruction plans have emerged, but most barely mention Palestinian sovereignty or empowerment. This reflects disaster capitalism at work: the reconstruction, which will cost billions, is seen as a chance to extract geopolitical gains. Reconstruction must be Palestinian-led, not externally managed.

The international community should support Palestinian local governance arrangements such as the NCAG, not by imposing them, but by enabling them. Governance must be Palestinian in decision-making, rather than externally dictated or conditioned by international agendas.

Additionally, it should activate international accountability mechanisms, including prosecution of perpetrators through the International Criminal Court and enforcement of the Apartheid Convention.

In the short term, the desire is for a complete and permanent end to the war rather than a temporary truce liable to collapse. There’s also a strong commitment to staying on the land despite the unbearable conditions — a political refusal of forced displacement or deportation. And people want Gaza to be restored as a unified space, with a reversal of the artificial geographic divisions imposed during the war so they can move freely and rebuild their communities.

In the longer term, many speak of returning to normal life, although life was already harsh before the war started. What they mean by normal is to have a minimum degree of stability, which translates into electricity for a few hours, intermittent water, limited work and some access to education. The situation in the past wasn’t good, but at least it was sustainable.

Freedom of movement is often described as the biggest hope. The current situation at the Rafah crossing – the only crossing point between Gaza and Egypt, and Gaza’s sole border point with a country other than Israel – demonstrates the opposite. What’s happening isn’t an ‘opening’; it’s siege with new tools. A return journey takes 20 hours for just a few kilometres, interspersed with hours of interrogation and inspection, blindfolding and handcuffing, even of sick women. This raises the psychological cost of moving. Out of 50 people who arrive to cross, only about 12 succeed. An estimated 80,000 wait in Egypt, while 6,000 wounded need to leave Gaza, yet only dozens are allowed to cross every day. The gap between need and availability isn’t technical. It’s intentional.

People want full opening of crossings without arbitrary security restrictions. They want the ability to travel for family, study, treatment or work, and an end to the permit regime that transforms mobility from a right into a rare privilege. Freedom of movement isn’t a luxury. It’s a basic condition for human dignity.