Netanyahu’s Strategy of Divide and Rule in Gaza Is Bound to Fail Once More | Israel-Palestine Conflict

From October 2023 to January 2025, Benjamin Netanyahu managed to displace approximately 1.9 million Palestinians—nearly the entire population of Gaza. He must be proud. The Israeli prime minister can now claim a place in the Guinness Book of Records as the man who single-handedly displaced the most people within the smallest territory.

I am one of those 1.9 million. I was displaced twice: first at the start of the genocidal war and again a year later.

Many Palestinian families were displaced repeatedly, some as many as 10 times or more.

Netanyahu’s strategy was clear: to divide us. The north was severed from the south. “Northerners” were forcibly expelled to the south. Then “southerners” and other displaced individuals were pushed further into the center.

But that wasn’t enough for him. The Israeli prime minister authorized a large-scale campaign to destroy housing across the Gaza Strip, particularly in the north and south. He also ordered the blockage of humanitarian aid to starve us.

According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, 92 percent of homes in Gaza—about 436,000 structures—were destroyed or damaged due to Israeli aggression. The Al Mezan Center for Human Rights reports that the Israeli army continued to demolish homes in Rafah even during the ceasefire.

The World Food Programme stated that, as of January, over 2 million people in Gaza were entirely dependent on food aid, with hundreds of thousands facing “catastrophic levels of food insecurity.”

Now, Netanyahu has ordered all humanitarian aid to be cut off again and is planning to forcibly expel Palestinians from the north to the south once more.

His goal is evident: to tear apart communities, separate and weaken us, and turn us against each other through extreme deprivation. Yet his strategy failed over the past 16 months, and it will fail again.

In the face of this genocidal war, the people of Gaza showed remarkable solidarity. Those with standing homes opened them to shelter the displaced—family, friends, neighbors, and even strangers. Whoever had food shared it.

When we were besieged in our neighborhood, Sheikh Radwan, in December 2023, we threw water bottles through the windows to our neighbor and his daughter to ensure they had something to drink. We also shared food with others in need by tossing it over the wall that separated our home from theirs.

During our second displacement, a friend of my father’s opened his home to us in the south, where we stayed for four months.

On January 15, when the ceasefire was announced, the people of Gaza triumphed over Netanyahu and his “divide and rule” strategy. Four days later, some displaced individuals from Rafah were able to return.

Then, on January 27, came the “great return.” Hundreds of thousands of Palestinians headed back to the north.

For most, “return” meant confronting homelessness. People walked long distances only to find their homes damaged or destroyed. In Gaza today, we use the word “biscuit” to describe a wrecked home—flattened like a biscuit.

The homeless returnees had few options: seek shelter in schools turned into shelters, pitch a tent in open spaces or beside the rubble of their homes, or attempt to repair standing walls into livable spaces.

Families are enduring heavy rain, strong winds, and bitter cold. Many, while cleaning, repairing, or searching through rubble for belongings, have uncovered the bodies of loved ones and buried them.

Yet, even in the harsh reality of homelessness, Palestinians continue to find solidarity.

People share what little they have—food, water, and even space in overcrowded tents. Neighbors work together to repair broken walls and roofs. Those with half-damaged homes offer shelter to others in need. Volunteers organize campaigns to distribute food and clothes to schools, shelters, and tent camps.

Youth gather daily to cook in communal kitchens, ensuring no one goes hungry. Emotional support is provided through WhatsApp groups and mental health gatherings. At night, families come together to share stories and comfort one another, easing the loneliness.

The men in our neighborhood created a schedule to help each other build shelters in damaged houses. They helped us put up tarps, secure them with poles, and mend walls in our damaged home. We, in turn, provided electricity for equipment using our barely functioning solar panel.

“Home” is now what most in Gaza yearn for. It’s supposed to be a warm sanctuary of cherished memories, a place to retreat when the world becomes too much. It’s not supposed to be a tent, a school, or a ruined house.

But Palestinians have been here before. Three-quarters of Gaza’s population are refugees or descendants of refugees who lost their homes during the Nakba. My own ancestors were expelled from their homes in the town of al-Majdal.

What Netanyahu and other Israeli leaders like him seem not to grasp is that Gaza is not just a place for us—it is our home.

No matter how many times Israel cuts off aid, attacks, destroys homes, and displaces people, we will rebuild—not by magic, but through our solidarity, resilience, and the support of the world.

The unity passed down through generations has forged a community that refuses to be erased. This is what will help Gaza rise again.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.