Gaza Peace Deal: A Missed Opportunity

A Fleeting Glimmer of Relief Amidst a Deepening Tragedy

The announcement of a peace deal, marking the first phase of a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas, offers a brief moment of relief. However, this relief is fragile, like a gasp that cannot stem the bleeding. The magnitude of what has been lost and what could have been saved demands more than symbolic gestures—it requires accountability.

Since October 7, 2023, Gaza has endured one of the most harrowing human tragedies of modern times. Over 67,000 Palestinians have lost their lives, with the majority being civilians, including at least 20,000 children. This is not just a number; it represents a generation of potential lives cut short.

The orphan crisis in Gaza is overwhelming. Official figures indicate that after 534 days of war, 39,384 children have lost one or both parents, with around 17,000 losing both. Among these children are newborns killed by bombardment and infants whose lives were extinguished by the collapse of healthcare and infrastructure.

Each of these numbers is a human life: a child with hopes, parents with dreams for them, who might have grown up, loved, laughed, and made something of themselves. But their lives were stolen due to the ongoing conflict.

There is no excuse for the actions of Hamas on October 7. The slaughter, abductions, and terror inflicted on Israeli civilians were barbaric. Families lost loved ones, and trauma echoes in every hallway and shattered hope. Any honest assessment must begin with acknowledging this truth. We must mourn the Israeli dead and grieve for Israel’s traumatized families. Their sorrow is real, and their pain is deep. They deserve justice, security, and peace.

However, recognizing this truth does not absolve others from responsibility. The issue lies less in what was done on that day and more in what has happened since: the decision to let the disaster escalate, political calculations that rejected or delayed pathways to peace, the freezing of diplomacy, and the complicity of powers that could have intervened more forcefully but chose strategic alignment, domestic optics, or personal legacy over human lives.

Calling this a war is a lie to language itself. Whatever conflict started on October 7 has long stopped being a war. It turned into an assault—a relentless, uneven bombardment by one of the world’s most powerful militaries against a besieged, starved population. These tens of thousands of children who died were not casualties of combat; they were victims of a political campaign carried out from the sky.

Let me be clear: Tens of thousands of Palestinian children who are now dead or orphaned would still be alive today if different choices had been made. These choices are not complicated in principle: ceasefires, humanitarian corridors, restrictions on bombing densely populated civilian areas, respect for international law, and a genuine willingness to negotiate in good faith.

Yet Benjamin Netanyahu and his far-right war hawks in Israel repeatedly rejected peace efforts, delayed ceasefires, prioritized military dominance, and allowed policies that did not just respond but worsened the disaster. Reports show that infrastructure, hospitals, and schools were damaged or destroyed; aid blockades turned urgent health crises into death sentences; the blockade and restrictions on fuel, medical supplies, and food all starved children not only of nourishment but of life.

On the U.S. side, the role of “enablers” cannot be ignored—politicians, diplomats, funders who, even in moments when they could have pushed harder for a ceasefire or pressured Israel to restrain, did not. Or did so only when it suited broader strategic interests. Washington’s role was pivotal and disappointing. President Joe Biden urged restraint yet kept the weapons flowing and the diplomatic shields up. Each week of delay, each UN veto translated into more funerals. Yes, some Americans and others genuinely sought to reduce suffering, but overall, the inertia, the reluctance to use leverage, and the tendency to prioritize alliances over lives are deeply shameful.

Now enters Donald Trump, seeking to cast himself as the peacemaker angling for the Nobel Peace Prize. There is a grotesque moral inversion in seeking personal glory on the backs of tens of thousands of Gaza children whose lives might have been saved. Even as death piles up, as children starve, freeze, bleed, and die in hospitals without electricity, there is applause over peace deals, praise for plans that are “the best on the table,” and declarations of success. But peace “on paper” after two years of war and endless delays is not enough.

If a peace deal is genuine, it should have been reached much earlier, saving thousands more lives. Its admission can never erase complicity in what came before. Trump’s rhetoric, his claiming of credit, his public relations campaign for awards—all of this degrades the memory of those who died and lets those who delayed off the hook.

Benjamin Netanyahu’s resistance to peace hasn’t been abstract. There were many offers, numerous third-party mediators, and multiple international proposals. Some peace plans were even proposed during the Biden administration that could have limited the worst excesses of the war. But they were ignored. Why? Because, for Netanyahu, as innumerable analyses show, his political survival in Israel depended on prolonging the war. The far-right coalition he leads thrives on polarization, on portraying strength over negotiation, and maintaining a constant conflict stance. Achieving peace or a genuine end to war would, in many ways, signal political ruin for him. Possibly even pose legal risks. Therefore, the politics of staying in power, resisting international pressure, and rejecting peace when it required concessions, always conflicted with the demands of humanity.

And in that tension, humanity lost.

To everyone claiming this deal is a victory, yes, it’s a relief that there is talk of a ceasefire. But no flowers, please. No parades. Especially, no peace prizes awarded before full, verifiable justice and restitution. Nobody deserves flowers for the deaths of tens of thousands of Gaza children when those deaths were preventable, when political choices could have been made differently by multiple actors, and when the costs were clear from the beginning.

Sympathy belongs to the families of Israeli victims. Their grief and suffering are not bargaining chips. However, sympathy also requires us to judge fairly. We evaluate not only what was done on October 7 but also what was permitted afterwards, what was sanctioned, what was encouraged, and what was ignored.

Let me restate: Hamas deserves unwavering condemnation for its massacre, its abductions, its refusal to renounce violence, and its impunity in broken promises. Netanyahu and his far-right extremists deserve moral, legal, and political condemnation for rejecting peace when it was possible, allowing civilian suffering to intensify, using the war as political cover, and, wittingly or not, creating the conditions that turned Gaza into a site of mass death and orphaned generations. Those in Washington or elsewhere who enabled this for geopolitical reasons—by providing arms, diplomatic cover, political cover, or silence—must be held accountable, not just for what they said and did but also for what they failed to say and do.

Moving forward, the world, if it has any shred of dignity, shame, and conscience left, must now demand full, immediate, and sustained humanitarian access—including food, medicine, fuel, and shelter—without political obstruction. It must require a genuine ceasefire, verified, not just ceasefire pauses or “first phases” that leave killing fields and death zones open. There must be robust reparations, rebuilding of health systems, schools, homes, and a social contract for the traumatised, the orphans, and the wounded.

The human and humane world must demand political reforms on all sides: Israeli leadership must be made to answer for its choices; Palestinian leadership, including Hamas, must be held responsible for atrocities and for refusing avenues of peace when offered; and Washington’s hypocrisy and double standards must be thoroughly examined. But, most importantly, the world must insist on independent investigations of war crimes and accountability.

This deal, regardless of its form or promise, arrives far too late for so many. The graves have multiplied. The orphans remain. The cities lie in ruins. If this is peace, it is peace built on the bones of children. And history will remember not those who claimed credit, but those who utterly failed—in time, in courage, and in basic decency.

Let this not be the moment when June 2025 calls for action, August promises, or November ceremonies are just words. Let it be the moment when the world stops treating these children as collateral, stops holding their suffering as a talking point. Because nothing—no deal, no peace prize—can ever compensate for what was lost. But we can prevent what’s coming next. The world cannot undo what was done in Gaza. But it can at least stop pretending that this deal is a diplomatic triumph. It is, instead, a monument to moral failure.