A report on Israel’s invasion of Gaza City, where residents say that – despite Israel’s demands to leave – they are willing to resist displacement.
Amid the rubble and the scent of gunpowder, the faint echo of life still lingers in Gaza City. Repeated threats of a full-scale Israeli invasion could reduce what remains of its streets and buildings to ruins. Thousands of families are now faced with an existential question: Should they stay under bombardment and hunger, or flee once again to the south, where there is neither shelter nor safety?
Before the war, the population of Gaza City alone was around 450,000. Today, with the mass displacement of people from northern Gaza and the heavily targeted areas of Beit Lahia, Jabalia, and Beit Hanoun into the heart of the city, the population has surged to nearly 1.2 million. The city lacks the basic necessities of life: there has been no electricity for months, water is either contaminated or scarce, and hospitals are either destroyed or out of service.
Mohammed Labad, 42, a father of three young children, the youngest born during the war on Gaza, is a resident of the Sheikh Radwan neighbourhood.
“We live in a half-destroyed room,” Labad says. “We queue for water from a tanker that comes to the neighbourhood once every three days, and the bread barely lasts us a day. There’s no nearby hospital I can turn to if my son gets sick. But despite all of that, I cannot leave Gaza City.”
Why do the residents insist on staying? The primary reason is the fear of permanent displacement. Palestinians in Gaza view the Israeli evacuation orders as a repetition of what happened in 1948, when their grandparents left and never returned.
Amal Al-Kahlout (29), a young woman who was previously displaced from northern Gaza and returned during the temporary truce, explains:
“I went with my family to Deir al-Balah beach. We found no tent, no food. The children slept out in the open. I felt like a stranger without roots. I returned to Gaza when the truce began, and now-despite the danger-I feel that dying in the remnants of my destroyed home is easier than living without dignity in a tent.”
In addition, strong social ties motivate people to stay. Here – even among the rubble – they are surrounded by their families and neighbours.
Despite threats of a full-scale invasion, only a limited number – about 10,000 people according to initial estimates – have left Gaza City. Press reports indicate that displacement toward the south is much lower than expected. The reason is that the south itself is no longer safe, with most massacres occurring in the Al-Mawasi area, which the occupation considers and classifies as safe. Additionally, the camps there are overcrowded.
Abdel Fattah Al-Khalidi (56), previously displaced to Al-Mawasi in Khan Younis, says:
“In the south, five families lived in one tent. No water, no bathrooms. Disease spread among the children. Now, despite the fear, we will not flee because death here is more merciful than a life without dignity there.”
Many families will therefore remain in Gaza because the alternatives to leaving are not truly living: unsafe routes, targeted southern areas, tents without services, and repeated failed displacement experiences. They also stay because home is identity and they fear they won’t return if they leave; and because a house half – ruined, close to family and neighbours, feels – to them – more merciful than a distant tent without dignity.
As the invasion expands and evacuation orders begin, some families will leave for the south fearing for their children, but many will stay until their last breath – not out of heroism or a preference for death, but because the alternative simply does not resemble life.
Israel has claimed that they will provide “generous aid” to those who leave Gaza City, but no one in Gaza City believes it.
“Generosity begins with stopping the bombing, not with a tent,” Amal Jabr, an elderly resident in Gaza City, says.
UN human rights reports indicate that Al-Mawasi, presented as a “humanitarian area,” has witnessed deadly strikes on displaced persons’ tents. The supposed “humanitarian offer” lacks basic infrastructure: tents without proper sanitation, insufficient food supplies, and no security.
Khaled Al-Basyouni (55), displaced from Al-Shujaiya neighborhood to a shelter center in western Gaza City, says:
“What generosity? It’s just a worn-out tent that we buy ourselves, with no water or food. We don’t want charity; we want to live with dignity in our homes.”
The city of Gaza and its northern areas are largely devastated today [7 September]. Jabalia, Beit Hanoun, Beit Lahia, along with entire neighborhoods such as Al-Tuffah, Al-Shuja’iyya, and Al-Zaytoun have been levelled to the ground.
The Ministry of Health in Gaza confirms that the number of martyrs in the Gaza Strip has exceeded 64,000, half of whom are women and children. In just the past few days, hundreds of civilians have been killed in airstrikes on residential homes.
Basema Afana, a mother who lost two of her young sons in two separate airstrikes on the Gaza Strip, says, “Every day we bury neighbours and relatives. Death has become a part of our daily life. But I fear being displaced again. I do not want to be a refugee in a foreign land.”
Despite the destruction, armed resistance operations remain present in the neighbourhoods controlled by the occupation army. Resistance factions periodically announce specialized operations they have carried out against the occupation forces.
Gaza is not just a city at war. It is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, mentioned in historical records as an important trading hub and a Mediterranean port.
“Gaza is not only for Palestinians. It is part of world history,” journalist Imad Abu Saif says. “those who destroy it are not just demolishing homes – they are erasing a cultural memory that spans thousands of years.”
For Palestinians, the loss of Gaza means losing their identity and collective memory. The city is not just a geographic location to them but a symbol of resilience and history.
For the world, the loss of Gaza signifies the loss of an invaluable human heritage: ancient artefacts, a rich civilisational memory, and a shared history.
In the face of this reality, the people of Gaza remain torn between two bitter choices: staying under bombardment in a city that is crumbling day by day, or fleeing into the unknown, where hunger and tents await.
“”We may die here, but Gaza will remain in our hearts,” Abu Saif says. “No one can erase it.”
BRAVE NEW EUROPE is one of the very few Resistance Media in Europe. We publish expert analyses and reports by some of the leading thinkers from across the world who you will not find in state and corporate mainstream media. Support us in our work.
Be the first to comment