Is the Gaza War Really Over? A Deep Look Into the Illusion of Peace
When headlines proclaim that the “war in Gaza is finally over,” many around the world breathe a sigh of relief. But as Guardian columnist Arwa Mahdawi argues, such proclamations are dangerously misleading. The sound of bombs may have quieted, yet the wounds of Gaza — physical, social, and moral — remain open and festering. To call it peace is to confuse silence with justice.
A Landscape of Destruction
After more than a year of relentless bombardment, Gaza lies in ruins. Estimates suggest that nearly 90 percent of homes have been damaged or destroyed. Entire neighborhoods have vanished, turned into indistinguishable fields of dust and twisted metal. For many families, there is no longer even an address to return to — only coordinates on a shattered map.
The destruction goes beyond housing. Ninety-five percent of Gaza’s schools have been damaged or reduced to rubble. Generations of children — those who survived — are now without classrooms, books, or teachers. Even the simple act of learning, a cornerstone of human dignity, has been stripped away.
Gaza’s once-vibrant agriculture has fared no better. Reports estimate that 97 percent of tree crops, 95 percent of shrubs, and 82 percent of annual crops have been wiped out. Farmlands have been bulldozed or burned. The soil itself, contaminated by explosives and toxic debris, may not yield safe harvests for years. The very foundation of sustenance has been poisoned.
When a War Becomes a Genocide
Mahdawi insists that what unfolded in Gaza cannot honestly be called a “war.” Wars, after all, are fought between armies. But Gaza’s statistics tell a different story — of hospitals bombed, maternity wards targeted, and civilians trapped with nowhere to flee. “This was not warfare,” she writes, “but the systematic destruction of a people’s capacity to live.”
The scale and pattern of destruction — coupled with rhetoric dehumanizing Palestinians as “human animals” or “collateral damage” — have led many human rights organizations and legal scholars to use a graver word: genocide. The term is controversial and politically charged, yet the moral weight behind it cannot be ignored.
Mahdawi emphasizes that even if global leaders are reluctant to utter it, the lived reality in Gaza — displacement, starvation, collective punishment, and erasure — embodies the essence of that word. Calling it a “war” allows those responsible to claim victory, rather than accountability.
Ceasefire, But Not Peace
The announcement of a ceasefire has been greeted by much of the world as a hopeful turning point. Yet, as Mahdawi argues, the so-called end of the war does not mean the end of violence.
Israeli forces continue to operate in certain “buffer zones,” shooting at Palestinians accused of crossing invisible lines drawn in rubble. In the occupied West Bank, settlers and soldiers continue to carry out attacks, demolish homes, and detain civilians without charge. For many Palestinians, “peace” is a foreign concept when occupation, surveillance, and daily humiliation remain constant.
The author points out that ceasefire terms have been uneven, designed largely on Israel’s terms, with few protections for Gaza’s civilian population. This imbalance allows the stronger side to claim moral authority while the weaker continues to suffer under new, quieter forms of domination.
The Politics of Gratitude
Mahdawi is sharply critical of how international leaders and media outlets are now framing the aftermath. Western governments, she notes, often expect Palestinians to be grateful for the cessation of bombing — as though mere survival is a gift bestowed upon them by their occupiers.
She describes this as a cruel distortion: to demand gratitude from people who have lost their homes, children, and futures. “Peace,” she argues, cannot be built upon dehumanization or erasure. It requires recognition — of suffering, of agency, of humanity. Anything less is not peace, but submission dressed in diplomatic language.
The Mirage of Reconstruction
In the months to come, the world will talk about rebuilding Gaza. Aid conferences will be held, pledges made, and photo opportunities arranged. But as Mahdawi warns, reconstruction without justice is just another form of control.
Who will rebuild Gaza? Under what conditions? If Israel maintains control over borders, resources, and imports, then even humanitarian aid becomes a tool of dependency. True recovery demands freedom — the right of Palestinians to decide their own fate, rebuild their own land, and educate their own children without external coercion.
A Deeper Reckoning Ahead
Declaring the Gaza war “over” risks absolving the world of its responsibility to reckon with how it began — and what it says about humanity today.
Mahdawi concludes that peace cannot emerge from denial. It requires truth. It requires holding those responsible accountable, not only for crimes committed but for the narratives that enabled them. It requires rejecting the idea that the lives of some people are worth less than others.
The real end of the war, she suggests, will not come with a ceasefire agreement, or a handshake on a tarmac, or a reconstruction fund. It will come only when the cycle of dehumanization is broken — when Gaza’s people are seen not as statistics, but as human beings deserving of dignity, safety, and home.
The War That Never Ended
To say the war in Gaza is “over” is to misunderstand what war really is. A war that leaves a land poisoned, a generation traumatized, and an entire people stripped of self-determination cannot truly be over.
Gaza’s silence is not peace. It is the pause between tragedies — a fragile, exhausted moment in which the world decides whether to rebuild justice or repeat history.
Until the rubble is cleared, the wounded healed, and the displaced return home with dignity, the war will continue — not on the battlefield, but in every heart that still dares to hope for freedom.
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