In the context of the ongoing genocide in Gaza, the policy of siege and starvation cannot be understood as a side effect of war, but rather as one of its core instruments. Starvation is not merely a byproduct: it is a systematic method used to dismantle, subjugate, and break Palestinian society both psychologically and physically.

Israel has not limited itself to conventional military attacks. Instead, it has imposed a precise system of control over Palestinian life, turning humanitarian aid itself into a tool of collective punishment. This system is not random; it is the result of a deliberate design to impose a rationing model controlled by the Israeli military in coordination with the so-called “Gaza Humanitarian Association,” while simultaneously dismantling the independent civilian infrastructure that once managed aid operations inside the Strip.

The result: a complete paralysis of food, water, and medicine distribution networks, and the forced gathering of people in areas like Rafah, a strategy to push them toward collapse or mass displacement.

A ceasefire does not end these policies. Even in the absence of bombing, Israel continues to control crossings, entry points, and vital supplies, rendering any ceasefire superficial and insufficient.

The real war is not only fought through planes and tanks, but through deliberate impoverishment, slow death, and the disintegration of collective survival. Genocide doesn’t always require bombs, it only needs control over daily life: food, water, healthcare, and shelter.

The painful irony is that all this unfolds under blatant international silence, and a disturbing moral detachment among many observers outside of Gaza. In air-conditioned cafés, or elegant offices and hotels, some negotiate deals and issue statements, as if what’s happening in Gaza is a distant scene irrelevant to them.

Some, even from within the Arab world, watch the war as if it were a stock market report or a real estate opportunity for reconstruction — not a comprehensive humanitarian and moral catastrophe. As for Western media — and even segments within Israel — they have only recently begun criticizing what they now call the “mistakes of the far-right government,” though just weeks ago they were offering “strategic advice” on how to win the war.

The discourse on war has been reduced to an internal administrative issue, stripped of its essence: a colonial project rooted in genocide and domination. At its core, this is not a war against an armed group or a response to a military threat. It is the enactment of a long-standing Zionist doctrine: to cleanse the land of the “Palestinian problem.”

This project does not differentiate between political factions and civilians. All of Gaza — as an entity, a community, a space — is treated as the enemy. Every Palestinian becomes a potential target. Every civilian structure is labeled a threat. Security and national identity are conflated, turning war into an extension of identity politics rather than security policy. Within this logic, killing Palestinians is not a crime — it is a necessity. And any attempt to separate Hamas from Gaza is perceived as a threat to the logic of the genocide itself.

This is how death becomes a sacred collective performance, stripped of its political context. Meanwhile, Palestinian death is treated as a technical data point, or a footnote — collateral damage unworthy of attention. It is a grotesque equivalence in dehumanization: glorified death here, silent death there.

The truth is no longer hidden: this is a genocide. It always has been, but today it is more visible, more brutal, and more thoroughly documented. It was never about security, or revenge, or even land alone; it’s about an entire identity that has no place in either geography or narrative.

Therefore, any talk of a ceasefire is meaningless unless it is tied to dismantling the structures of domination, lifting the siege entirely, restoring Palestinian control over aid distribution, and holding accountable those who weaponized hunger.

This cannot be seen as an ordinary war, nor understood through tired narratives of conflict. It is a fully realized genocide with clear objectives, chilling precision, and an architecture of destruction.