Gaza’s Vanishing Minarets: Israel Destroys More Than 1,000 Mosques Since 7 October 2023

CROSSFIREARABIA – By August 2026, scarcely a mosque in Gaza escaped the war. Ancient Mamluk sanctuaries, neighbourhood prayer halls and modern mosques were reduced to rubble, while worshippers, imams and religious scholars killed. The scale raises a question that goes beyond battlefield damage: Were all these buildings legitimate military objectives, or has part of Gaza’s religious and cultural landscape been destroyed?

In Gaza today, the absence of the minaret has become almost as noticeable as the presence of the rubble.

For generations the skyline of Gaza City, Jabalia, Deir al-Balah, Khan Younis and Rafah was punctuated by domes and slender minarets. Mosques were not merely buildings entered five times a day for prayer. They were landmarks by which neighbourhoods identified themselves, places where families met, children studied the Quran, charitable committees distributed assistance and generations marked births, marriages and deaths.

After nearly three years of Israeli military attacks, much of that religious landscape has disappeared.

The latest figures supplied by Gaza’s Ministry of Awqaf and Religious Affairs and reported by the Palestine Information Center on 25 August 2026 state that 1,244 mosques out of the Gaza Strip’s 1,275 have been targeted since 7 October 2023. Of these, 1,077 have been completely destroyed. 

That means roughly 98 percent of Gaza’s mosques have been struck or otherwise affected, according to the ministry, and about 84 percent of the entire pre-war stock of mosques has been completely destroyed.

The ministry says only a fraction of Gaza’s pre-war religious infrastructure is presently functioning normally. In August 2026 it reported 224 standing mosques and 428 temporary prayer spaces, many assembled from timber, canvas and whatever material could be salvaged from the ruins. Sixty-five damaged mosques had been provisionally made usable.

The figures have risen dramatically as the war has continued. In October 2024 the ministry reported 814 mosques completely destroyed and another 148 damaged. By February 2025 it said 834 were completely destroyed and 275 severely damaged. By August 2026 the complete-destruction count had risen to more than 1,070.

International organisations use more conservative figures because they count only sites they have individually verified. OHCHR reported that, according to the Gaza Ministry of Endowments, 995 mosques and three churches had been partly or completely destroyed by 31 May 2025. UNESCO, using satellite imagery and site assessments rather than accepting the entire ministry inventory, had independently verified damage to 164 cultural sites by March 2026, including important religious monuments.

The difference therefore does not necessarily mean one side is counting inaccurately. They are measuring different things: Gaza’s ministry is attempting a comprehensive administrative inventory, while UNESCO and other UN bodies generally record only individually verified cultural properties.

The assault began almost immediately

Some of the first mosques disappeared within 48 hours of the 7 October attacks.

At approximately 4:30 a.m. on 9 October 2023, Israeli warplanes struck the Sheikh Ahmed Yassin Mosque in Gaza City’s crowded al-Shati refugee camp. Human-rights documentation subsequently reviewed by Airwars says the four-storey mosque was completely destroyed and three civilians were killed — two women and a girl. Around a dozen others were reported injured.

Nearby, the Al-Gharbi Mosque was also destroyed. Palestinian documentation says several missiles struck the mosque and three civilians in the area were killed. Because several mosques in al-Shati were attacked in the same period, casualty attribution varies between reports.

Then came the Abdullah bin Omar, or Al-Sousi Mosque, also in al-Shati.

An Airwars investigation records that an Israeli airstrike at approximately 11:10 a.m. on 9 October destroyed the mosque, killing 10 to 11 civilians and injuring around 60. At least two children and several women, including a pregnant woman, were among the dead according to the sources it examined.

A joint appeal submitted by Palestinian human-rights organisations Al-Haq, Al Mezan and the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights to UN special procedures likewise recorded 11 civilians killed when Israeli aircraft struck Al-Sousi Mosque.

Other mosques reported struck during the opening weeks included Yarmouk Mosque, Abbas Mosque, Ishteiwi Mosque, Sheikh Shaaban Mosque, Shama’a Mosque, the Islamic University Mosque, Habib Muhammad Mosque in Khan Younis, Saad al-Ansari Mosque in Beit Lahia, Imam Ali Mosque in Jabalia, Al-Aqsa Martyrs Mosque in Nuseirat, Al-Omari Mosque in Jabalia, Anwar Aziz Mosque in Jabalia and Fatima al-Zahra Mosque in al-Zahra City.

These were not confined to Gaza City. From the first weeks the pattern stretched from Beit Lahia and Jabalia in the north, through Gaza City and the central camps, to Khan Younis and Rafah in the south.

Worshippers killed while gathered for prayer

One of the most disturbing characteristics of a number of attacks is their timing.

OHCHR has investigated the 15 November 2023 strike on Ihya al-Sunnah Mosque in the Sabra neighbourhood of Gaza City. The mosque was crowded with men and boys gathering for evening prayer.

The UN human-rights office says at least 63 Palestinians were killed.

More unusually, investigators were able to assess the probable weapon. OHCHR concluded that the strike was highly likely carried out with a precision-guided MK-83-class munition. The Israeli military did not publicly announce a target or justification for that particular attack, according to the UN investigation.

That distinction is important.

In most attacks on Gaza’s mosques it is possible to establish that an airstrike, artillery round, tank shell or demolition destroyed the structure. It is not possible to responsibly name the exact bomb model. Photographs of ruins alone rarely establish whether the weapon was an MK-82, MK-83, MK-84, GBU-series guided bomb or another munition.

Where there is forensic evidence, however, the picture becomes clearer.

The most notorious example came at Al-Tabaeen School and its mosque/prayer hall in Gaza City’s al-Daraj district on 10 August 2024.

Thousands of displaced Palestinians were sheltering in the compound. The strike came during Fajr, the dawn prayer.

Gaza Civil Defence ultimately reported more than 90 dead; early Palestinian government statements placed the figure around 100. Reuters reported the Civil Emergency Service’s estimate of about 100 deaths, while CNN reported at least 93.

CNN’s weapons analysis identified debris from at least one US-manufactured GBU-39 Small Diameter Bomb, a precision-guided weapon.

Israel acknowledged carrying out the attack. It said the prayer compound contained a Hamas and Islamic Jihad command-and-control facility and said militants were among those killed, while disputing the Palestinian casualty figure.

Palestinian officials and witnesses said the victims had assembled for dawn prayers.

Whatever the competing descriptions of those present, it remains one of the deadliest documented attacks on a place being used for Muslim worship during the war.

Deir al-Balah: Another mosque filled with displaced families

The Shuhada al-Aqsa Mosque beside Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al-Balah became another refuge for Palestinians who had already lost their homes.

Shortly after midnight on 6 October 2024, Israeli aircraft struck it.

Safa reported 21 people killed in the mosque alone, with dozens wounded. In the combined attacks on the mosque and nearby Ibn Rushd School, Palestinian officials initially reported 24 deaths and 93 injuries; subsequent international reports put the combined toll at least at 26.

Israel confirmed attacking the Shuhada al-Aqsa Mosque structure, saying Hamas personnel were operating from a command centre embedded there. The military said it used “precise munitions”, surveillance and intelligence intended to reduce civilian casualties. It did not publicly identify the specific bomb model.

This is an important example of the central dispute surrounding many mosque attacks.

Israel says mosques lose their protection from direct attack when Hamas or Palestinian Islamic Jihad uses them for military purposes. Palestinians argue that Israel has repeatedly invoked this explanation without publicly presenting evidence sufficient for independent scrutiny, particularly where displaced civilians were known to be sheltering in the same buildings.

Rafah’s Al-Farouq Mosque

Southern Gaza was no sanctuary either.

On 22 February 2024, an Israeli airstrike flattened the Al-Farouq Mosque in Rafah’s Shaboura area. Photographs showed little more than slabs of broken concrete where the mosque had stood.

Reuters reported at least seven bodies brought out following that night’s attacks on the mosque and neighbouring houses. WAFA likewise reported seven Palestinians killed in the Rafah bombardment, although available reporting does not establish that every one of the seven was actually inside the mosque.

The distinction matters: In a densely built city, a bomb dropped on a mosque may kill people in the mosque, in adjacent houses or in the street. Casualty totals should therefore not automatically be assigned to the mosque itself unless eyewitness or medical documentation establishes the location.

Great Omari Mosque: Destroying layers of history

Human loss is only one dimension of what happened.

At the heart of Gaza City’s old al-Daraj quarter stood the Great Omari Mosque, Gaza’s most important historic mosque and one of the oldest religious structures in Palestine.

Its architecture was itself a history book.

The site carried layers associated with antiquity, Byzantine Christianity, the Crusader period and Islamic Gaza. Parts of the structure incorporated a Crusader basilica. Mamluk and Ottoman rulers enlarged and embellished it. Its façade preserved a Gothic-style entrance arch, while its courtyard, marble mihrab, sandstone masonry and distinctive minaret spoke to later Islamic architectural traditions. UNESCO describes it as an architectural fusion and one of the principal monuments demonstrating Gaza’s continuous sacred history.

The complex covered approximately 4,100 square metres and was built largely of local kurkar sandstone. Historical inscriptions recorded Mamluk rulers, while the mosque’s library held old books and manuscripts.

It was struck more than once.

ICOMOS Palestine documented damage to its minaret in November 2023 and a devastating second Israeli airstrike around 7 December 2023, which destroyed most of the main structure.

Photographs afterwards showed the minaret rising almost alone from mountains of stone.

The precise bomb used in the December attack has not been independently established. It should therefore be described simply as an Israeli airstrike, rather than assigning it a particular bomb type without forensic evidence.

The loss is greater than that of one mosque. UNESCO’s description of Gaza’s historic centre stresses that the Omari represented the city’s successive Byzantine, Crusader, Mamluk and Ottoman layers — material evidence that Gaza was never an ahistorical refugee enclave but a Mediterranean city with centuries of urban continuity.

Ibn Uthman: A Mamluk masterpiece disappears

Another extraordinary loss occurred in Shuja’iyya.

The Ibn Uthman Mosque, built in stages between the late 14th and early 15th centuries, was one of Gaza’s finest surviving examples of Burji Mamluk architecture.

Its courtyard, porticoes, domed mihrab and decorative stonework made it, after the Great Omari Mosque, one of the most celebrated historic mosques in Gaza. Inscriptions preserved the names of Mamluk patrons and even a 15th-century decree concerning taxation in Gaza.

An Israeli airstrike destroyed the mosque during fighting in Shuja’iyya in July 2024. UNESCO has since independently listed Ibn Uthman among Gaza’s damaged cultural properties.

A structure surviving approximately six centuries had disappeared in seconds.

Sayed Hashem and Gaza’s sacred geography

The Sayed Hashem Mosque was another landmark damaged in the opening months of the offensive.

Situated in Gaza City’s old quarter, it is traditionally associated with Hashem ibn Abd Manaf, the great-grandfather of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), who according to local tradition died in Gaza while travelling through the region.

ICOMOS Palestine reported the mosque damaged by Israeli fire during the war and identified it among the city’s important historic religious losses.

Its importance to Gazans therefore extended beyond architecture. The shrine helped give Gaza one of its traditional names, Ghazat Hashem — “Gaza of Hashem.”

Destroying or severely damaging such a building consequently affects not only contemporary worship but a place-name, a historical narrative and a community’s relationship with its city.

A mosque dating from 1951 becomes the latest casualty

The destruction has continued well beyond the first two years of the war.

On 24 August 2026, Israeli aircraft destroyed Abu Salim Mosque in Deir al-Balah, according to Gaza’s Ministry of Awqaf and the Palestine Information Center.

Built in 1951 by Hajj Muhammad Abu Salim, it was among the early mosques of modern Deir al-Balah and had become a centre for Quran classes and community and religious activities. The attack also destroyed the prayer hall of Asqalan Mosque in al-Shati camp, while the Al-Radwan Mosque prayer hall in western Gaza City sustained damage.

The exact munition used against Abu Salim Mosque has not been publicly verified.

Its destruction is significant precisely because it was not an imperial monument or medieval masterpiece. Heritage is also accumulated living memory: Weddings, funerals, Ramadan nights, children’s lessons and the voices of successive imams.

The imams and preachers who died

The destruction also followed Gaza’s religious personnel.

Gaza’s Ministry of Awqaf said early in 2024 that more than 100 scholars, preachers, imams, muezzins and Quran teachers had already been killed.

By 2026 the number was considerably higher.

Figures published by the Palestine Information Center in August 2026 said that by the end of 2025, 233 Muslim imams, preachers and religious educators and 20 Christian clergy had been killed. Other ministry figures published in February 2026 spoke of more than 330 ministry employees, religious scholars and imams killed across the broader religious establishment.

Among prominent religious figures killed was Sheikh Yusuf Salama, a former Palestinian minister of religious affairs and former preacher at Al-Aqsa Mosque, killed when his home in Maghazi refugee camp was bombed. The preacher and imam Wael al-Zard died of wounds after an attack on his home, while Walid Oweidah, who headed a Quran memorisation department in the Ministry of Awqaf, was also killed in an attack on his home in Gaza City’s Sabra district.

These cases must be distinguished from people killed inside mosques. The available evidence shows many religious personnel were killed in homes or elsewhere, rather than during the actual destruction of their mosque.

What bombs were used?

There is no credible evidence that a single type of bomb explains the destruction of Gaza’s mosques.

The documented methods include air-delivered precision-guided bombs and missiles, artillery fire, tank fire, bulldozing and controlled demolitions using explosives placed directly inside structures.

In several cases the exact weapon can be identified. OHCHR assessed the November 2023 Ihya al-Sunnah Mosque attack as highly likely involving a precision-guided MK-83 munition. CNN identified the remains of a US-made GBU-39 Small Diameter Bomb at the Al-Tabaeen mosque/prayer-hall strike according to a United Nations report.

Amnesty International found another category of destruction entirely: Buildings blown up after Israeli troops had gained control of them.

Its investigation verified 43 videos depicting attacks on 34 mosques and documented at least 12 mosques destroyed in controlled demolitions. Amnesty specifically examined the Al-Dhilal Mosque in Bani Suheila and Al-Istiqlal Mosque in Khan Younis, concluding that manually placed explosives were used while Israeli forces controlled the locations.

That evidence matters because a controlled demolition is fundamentally different from a split-second airstrike during active combat. The question of immediate military necessity becomes harder to answer when troops already control a building and have the ability to search, secure or isolate it.

Did Israel have a military purpose?

Israel says unequivocally that it did.

The Israeli military has published a series of statements alleging Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad used mosques as weapons-storage facilities, meeting points, tunnel entrances and command centres. It says intelligence and material captured in Gaza demonstrated military use of “dozens of mosques.”

For individual attacks including Al-Tabaeen, Shuhada al-Aqsa and Al-Farouq, Israel has stated that militants or command structures were operating in or from the buildings.

International humanitarian law does not make a mosque immune under every conceivable circumstance. A place of worship being genuinely used for military action can lose its normal protection for the duration of that use. Even then, the attacking force remains bound by the principles of distinction, proportionality and precautions to protect civilians.

The harder question is whether a military explanation plausibly accounts for destruction on the scale documented in Gaza.

Here the evidence becomes much more troubling.

Amnesty International examined controlled demolitions in which Israeli troops appeared to be in physical control of religious and cultural properties and concluded in several cases that there was no evident imperative military necessity for destroying them. The organisation said the evidence suggested destruction itself may in some cases have been the objective.

OHCHR has reached similarly serious conclusions concerning the pattern rather than every individual strike. Its 2026 overview highlighted attacks during prayer times and reported that 17 mosques were struck during April 2024, including eight around Eid al-Fitr on 11 and 12 April. It said Israel had not presented evidence substantiating the loss of civilian protection for those places and concluded that the timing, weapons and pattern raised concerns that places of worship were either directly targeted or attacked without adequate precautions.

Those findings do not prove that every demolished mosque was intentionally attacked because it was a mosque. Nor do they establish that no mosque was ever militarily used.

They do, however, make it difficult to explain the destruction of virtually an entire religious landscape simply as incidental collateral damage.

More than buildings

International recognition of the cultural dimension has expanded as the ruins have accumulated.

A UN report noted the destruction or damage of the 800-year-old Sheikh Zakaria Mosque, the Great Omari Mosque and other important religious sites. UNESCO has independently confirmed damage to the Great Omari and Ibn Uthman mosques among the cultural properties it has monitored.

The Great Omari is now included within Gaza’s historic centre on Palestine’s UNESCO World Heritage Tentative List, which emphasises the survival in one urban landscape of Byzantine, Crusader, Mamluk and Ottoman architectural layers.

This is what statistics such as 1,077 completely destroyed mosques cannot convey.

A mosque is concrete and stone, but it is also sound: The dawn call to prayer; children’s voices reciting after school; a Friday congregation spilling onto the pavement; Ramadan evenings; neighbours meeting one another five times a day.

Destroy enough of them and something less visible is damaged — the system through which a community remembers itself.

That may explain why Gazans have begun erecting prayer spaces in tents and beneath sheets of plastic almost as quickly as the permanent structures disappear. By August 2026 Gaza’s Ministry of Awqaf said 428 temporary prayer spaces were operating across the Strip.

The minarets may have fallen, but the congregations have not disappeared.

And that leaves a question that any eventual investigation of the Gaza war will have to confront mosque by mosque, strike by strike:

What military necessity required each of these buildings to be destroyed — and where no such necessity can be demonstrated, was Gaza losing not merely a battlefield structure, but part of its religious history and collective memory?

The question becomes more urgent, not less, when the destroyed building is a 600-year-old Mamluk mosque, a packed prayer hall at dawn or a neighbourhood mosque built in 1951.

For Gaza, reconstruction will therefore involve more than replacing bricks.

It will mean reconstructing a landscape of worship, memory and history that, according to its own Ministry of Awqaf, has been almost entirely erased from the physical map of the Strip.

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Aqaba Makes World Marine History

By Yazan K. Mahadin

On July 25, Jordan achieved a historic milestone as the Aqaba Marine Reserve was officially inscribed on the UNESCO World Heritage List during the 48th Session of the World Heritage Committee in Busan, Republic of Korea. Recognized under UNESCO’s natural criteria (ix) and (x), the Reserve earned global recognition for its outstanding ecological processes, extraordinary marine biodiversity, and exceptional contribution to the conservation of one of the world’s most resilient coral reef ecosystems. This inscription marks Jordan’s first natural World Heritage Site, adding a new dimension to the country’s internationally celebrated cultural heritage.

This achievement extends far beyond international recognition. It positions Jordan at the center of one of the defining global challenges of the twenty-first century: climate change. While coral reefs around the world continue to suffer unprecedented bleaching events caused by rising sea temperatures and ocean acidification, the coral reefs of the northern Red Sea have demonstrated an extraordinary ability to withstand environmental stress. Scientists increasingly regard the reefs of Aqaba as among the most climate-resilient coral ecosystems on Earth, offering valuable insights into the future survival of tropical reefs worldwide.

The Aqaba Marine Reserve is therefore more than a protected area. It is a living laboratory for international scientific research and a beacon of hope in the global effort to understand, protect, and restore marine ecosystems. The Reserve safeguards hundreds of coral species, over five hundred species of fish, and an extraordinary diversity of marine life that continues to thrive in conditions that threaten reefs elsewhere. At a time when the world is searching for solutions to biodiversity loss and climate adaptation, Jordan now hosts one of the planet’s most significant natural assets.

The UNESCO inscription also carries profound implications for Jordan’s tourism sector. Across the world, World Heritage designation is recognized as a symbol of quality, authenticity, and long-term conservation. It strengthens international confidence, raises global visibility, and attracts travelers seeking meaningful, sustainable, and environmentally responsible experiences. Increasingly, today’s visitors are choosing destinations that demonstrate a genuine commitment to protecting nature and preserving cultural identity. The Aqaba Marine Reserve perfectly reflects this global shift toward sustainable tourism.

For Jordan, this recognition presents an opportunity to diversify its tourism economy beyond traditional cultural attractions. Aqaba can now establish itself as a premier international destination for marine ecotourism, diving, underwater photography, scientific expeditions, educational travel, and conservation-focused experiences. Universities, research institutions, environmental organizations, and climate scientists from around the world are likely to view the Reserve as an increasingly important destination for collaboration and discovery. Such partnerships generate knowledge, investment, employment opportunities, and long-term economic benefits while reinforcing Jordan’s reputation as a responsible steward of global heritage.

Perhaps the greatest opportunity lies in integrating this achievement into Jordan’s broader tourism vision through the Golden Triangle—the internationally renowned destinations of Aqaba, Petra, and Wadi Rum. Few countries possess such an extraordinary concentration of globally significant heritage within such a compact geographical area. Within only a few hours, visitors can dive among some of the world’s most climate-resilient coral reefs, stand before the timeless grandeur of Petra, and experience the breathtaking desert landscapes of Wadi Rum. Together, these destinations offer an unparalleled journey through sea, stone, and desert, where nature, culture, history, and adventure come together in one seamless experience.

The Golden Triangle now tells a more compelling story than ever before. Aqaba represents the resilience of nature. Petra embodies the resilience of human civilization. Wadi Rum showcases the dramatic geological forces that have shaped the landscape over millions of years. Together, they present Jordan as a destination where natural heritage and cultural heritage complement one another, creating a tourism model that is both economically powerful and environmentally sustainable.

Petra and Aqaba, in particular, share a remarkable narrative despite representing different forms of heritage. Petra stands as one of humanity’s greatest achievements in adapting to an arid environment through sophisticated engineering, water management, and urban planning. Aqaba demonstrates how nature itself has adapted to environmental extremes, preserving coral reefs that continue to flourish despite rising sea temperatures. One tells the story of human resilience; the other tells the story of ecological resilience. Together, they position Jordan as a global symbol of adaptation, innovation, and coexistence between people and nature.

This achievement also reinforces Jordan’s international leadership in heritage conservation. With six UNESCO World Heritage properties—five cultural and now one natural—the Kingdom demonstrates that protecting heritage is not limited to preserving monuments and archaeological sites. It extends equally to safeguarding ecosystems, biodiversity, and the natural landscapes upon which future generations will depend. The inscription of the Aqaba Marine Reserve broadens Jordan’s global identity from a country renowned for its ancient civilizations to one that also contributes meaningfully to international environmental conservation.

Yet UNESCO inscription is not the conclusion of the journey—it is the beginning of a greater responsibility. Global recognition brings with it an obligation to strengthen conservation efforts, enhance scientific monitoring, carefully manage tourism growth, regulate coastal development, and ensure that local communities remain active partners in protecting this remarkable marine environment. Sustainable management must remain the foundation upon which future tourism development is built.

Jordan has shown that conservation and economic development are not competing priorities but complementary objectives. Protecting nature creates opportunities for scientific innovation, sustainable investment, local employment, and responsible tourism. The Aqaba Marine Reserve now stands as a global example of how environmental stewardship can generate lasting social and economic value while preserving irreplaceable natural heritage.

As the world confronts the realities of climate change, biodiversity loss, and increasing environmental uncertainty, Jordan offers a powerful message of optimism. The inscription of the Aqaba Marine Reserve is more than a national achievement—it is a contribution to humanity’s shared future. Together with Petra and Wadi Rum, it establishes the Golden Triangle as one of the world’s most remarkable destinations, where ancient civilizations, resilient ecosystems, and extraordinary landscapes unite to tell a story of hope, sustainability, and the enduring relationship between people and the natural world.

Yazan K. Mahadin is commissioner for Petra Archeological park and Tourism – PDTRA. He contributed this article to The Jordan Times

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‘Living in a Tent is Like Living in Hell’ Maryam Says

In Gaza, tents are no longer havens from war. They have become prisons of fabric, trapping displaced civilians in the sweltering heat of the summer, while thirst, hunger, mosquitoes, and disease stalk them at every turn.

Here, people don’t escape the constant bombing to safety. Rather day, they face another battle against the scorching sun, the scarce water, and the sleepless nights in tattered tents, that no longer protect from the darkness.

In the Heart of Hell

Read also: “Gaza Live”… 7 Martyrs and Injuries in 13 New Israeli Violations of the “Truce”

“There are eight of us living in a tent, and the situation is hell in the summer,” displaced woman Mariam Baraka, tells the Sanad News Agency, whilst summarizing the details of life inside her tent that offers no protection from the heat and leaves little to dignity.

She says she spends long hours searching for water under the bitter hit of the sun, sometimes managing to fill a few buckets, while other times she returns empty-handed after a grueling journey to a distant water source.

The suffering doesn’t end with thirst. The family is forced to cook over a wood fire amidst sweltering temperatures, and cardboard boxes serve as a primitive makeshift tolls to circulating air inside the tent.

Maryam recounts that her son can no longer bear the intense heat, constantly telling her: “Mommy, I can’t take it anymore.” Her young child is unable to sleep due to the heat and the bites from mosquitoes and flies that have covered his body in blisters. Their entire lives revolve around the sun and what she describes as “extremely difficult” conditions.

Maryam’s testimony reflects the stark reality faced by nearly one million displaced people—about 170,000 families—who endure the summer heat in tents and makeshift shelters, according to a recent report by the Norwegian Refugee Council.

Documented data indicates that 125,000 out of 135,000 tents have been damaged and are unfit for human use due to weather conditions. The organization also reports that approximately 5,000 families are sleeping in the open without any shelter from the sun or darkness.

A Daily Battle

The tents, made of nylon and thick fabric, have become like closed ovens, with temperatures inside sometimes exceeding 37 to 40 degrees Celsius. This makes staying inside nearly impossible due to the trapped heat and humidity, a situation described in international press reports as “slow death inside thermal gas chambers.”

The tragedy is compounded by the severe water crisis. The United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF) confirms that water supplies in the camps have dropped to critical levels, forcing families, including children, to walk long distances under the scorching sun to obtain limited quantities of water.

The dangers don’t stop at heat and thirst. The spread of mosquitoes and flies within the camps has led to skin diseases among children, while displacement areas are witnessing an increase in snakes, scorpions, and rats due to the accumulation of rubble and the breakdown of sanitation systems, according to multiple media reports.

Doctors and health workers warn of a rise in skin and infectious diseases, in addition to heatstroke and dehydration, which threaten the lives of children and the elderly.

The Secretary-General of the Norwegian Refugee Council, Jan Egeland, emphasized that this humanitarian catastrophe could have been avoided were it not for the continued blockade and the closure of crossings, which prevent the entry of essential aid, awning materials, wood, and hygiene supplies.

With the destruction of homes and infrastructure, areas like the Khan Younis and Deir al-Balah camps have been transformed into vast tent cities lacking water and sanitation. Each tent has become a new chapter in an unending ordeal, a daily battleground for displaced people struggling for survival.

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UNESCO Places Sebastia on World Heritage ‘Danger List’

Palestine has successfully secured the inscription of the archaeological site of Sebastia on UNESCO’s List of World Heritage in Danger, Palestinian Minister of Tourism and Antiquities Hani al-Hayek announced on Friday.

The decision was made during the 48th session of the World Heritage Committee of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), held in Busan, South Korea.

The committee approved the listing of Sebastia under the emergency procedure and based on criterion (iii) of the World Heritage Convention, following the adoption of Palestine’s nomination file, which highlighted the site’s outstanding universal value as a unique testimony to the succession of civilizations and cultures that inhabited the area from the Iron Age through the Hellenistic, Roman, Byzantine, Crusader, and Ottoman periods.

In its decision, the committee said Sebastia is distinguished by its multiple archaeological layers and clear historical sequence, reflecting the continuous development of an urban, political, and religious center over more than two millennia, giving the site exceptional universal value deserving protection under the World Heritage Convention.

The committee also decided to place the site on the List of World Heritage in Danger due to what it described as serious threats, including Israeli occupation-related measures, land seizure plans, projects aimed at altering the historical and archaeological character of the site, and restrictions affecting protection, management, and preservation efforts.

The Ministry of Tourism and Antiquities welcomed the decision, describing the inscription of Sebastia as a historic national achievement that reflects Palestine’s cultural significance and demonstrates its commitment to protecting its cultural heritage in accordance with international standards despite challenges posed by Israeli occupation practices. WAFA

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How Israel Destroyed Education in Gaza

By Hani Shehada

In 2005, a university in the United Kingdom offered me a scholarship. I never set foot on its campus. I could not leave Gaza. 

The crossing through which I would have travelled had been closed for more than six months, and a locked gate does not read acceptance letters.

By the time it might have opened, the place would have belonged to someone else, to another academic year, another student, another version of my life.

I have carried that small, private loss for more than 20 years. I raise it now only because it has become the most modest possible version of something far larger: The systematic narrowing of an entire generation’s future.

The destruction of education in Gaza cannot be understood only through the number of buildings reduced to rubble. 

Its defining feature is its reach across the entire learning system. Schools and universities have been damaged or destroyed.

Students, teachers and professors have been killed or displaced. Libraries, laboratories, archives and other repositories of knowledge have been erased.

United Nations experts and a growing body of academic research have described this pattern as ‘scholasticide’: the systematic destruction of education through attacks on its institutions, infrastructure, students, educators and intellectual life. 

The term captures something that statistics alone cannot. What is being lost is not a collection of isolated buildings, but the foundations through which a society preserves knowledge, prepares its young people and imagines a future.

The scale is difficult to comprehend. By July 2025, 97 percent of Gaza’s schools had sustained damage.

United Nations experts reported that all 12 of Gaza’s universities had been damaged or destroyed; a later UNESCO assessment found that 95 percent of higher-education campuses had been affected, with most buildings destroyed or rendered unusable.

More than 68 million metric tons of debris now cover Gaza. Hundreds of teachers, professors and other education workers have been killed.

But the loss of a scholar cannot be measured as the loss of a building can. 

It is the disappearance of decades of accumulated knowledge: The lectures never delivered, the research never completed, the students never mentored and the future teachers, doctors, engineers and writers who will never encounter that person in a classroom.

Ordinary foundations of classrooms

For Gaza’s children, education now survives largely through improvisation. Hundreds of temporary learning spaces have been assembled in tents, shelters and damaged buildings. 

The word “temporary” has become misleading. For many children, these spaces are not a bridge back to school. They are the only school they know.

Picture it plainly: children sitting on the ground, with no desks or chairs; A teacher working beneath plastic sheeting, without reliable light, electricity or a proper board. 

The tent is stifling in summer and vulnerable to rain and flooding in winter. At times, even the most basic tools of learning have been unavailable. 

For more than two years, educational materials were prevented from entering Gaza. Not weapons. Pencils, notebooks, exercise books, crayons and rulers.

Only in January 2026 did UNICEF announce that thousands of basic learning and recreational kits had begun entering Gaza after more than two years of restrictions. Reuters news agency reported that the kits contained pencils, but textbooks were still not permitted. 

Read that again. We are not debating curricula, teaching methods or class sizes. We have reached the question of whether a child may have a pencil. 

A pencil should not be a subject of negotiation. Nor should a desk, a page or a roof. These are the ordinary foundations of a classroom, the things assumed to exist before a lesson begins. 

In Gaza, they have become objects of longing: A child wishing for a notebook, a teacher forced to improvise without the simplest tools, the ordinary conditions of learning placed beyond reach.

Gaza is often described as a place Palestinians are desperate to escape. That framing misses something essential. 

For many Palestinians I know, leaving is not the dream. The dream is to remain, to study, work, raise a family and build a future in the place they call home, without being imprisoned within it.

But the space in which that life might be lived continues to contract. 

In late May, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said Israeli forces occupied over 60 percent of Gaza and had been instructed to expand that occupation to 70 percent. 

Almost the entire population of roughly two million people are confined to a small coastal strip, most displaced and many displaced repeatedly.

The routes on which a life may depend, to reach medical treatment, accept a scholarship, reunite with family or move beyond the path of another evacuation order, remain restricted, uncertain or closed.

To be trapped is not only to be denied departure. It is to watch the boundaries of ordinary life close around you: the space to live, to learn, to recover and, one day, to rebuild.

Within that shrinking geography, children are still expected to learn. They arrive at tents and damaged buildings without reliable electricity, safe water, desks or textbooks. 

Some carry injuries that require treatment unavailable in Gaza. Some are living with disabilities. Some have lost one parent, both parents or entire branches of their families.

Yet they are still asked to sit down, concentrate and imagine a future, as though hope itself requires no shelter.

In 2005, a closed border cost one student one opportunity. What is happening now is not the loss of a single chance, but the systematic narrowing of a generation’s future.

Education cannot wait

Gaza’s young people stand before doors held shut: The door to a classroom, an examination, a university place, a recognized qualification and, ultimately, a working life. My loss was one interrupted chapter. 

For them, interruption has become the architecture of childhood itself, year after year in which education is delayed, diminished or placed entirely beyond reach.

There is one more word the world reaches for when it speaks about Gaza: Resilience.

That resilience is real. I have witnessed it all my life. But the word becomes dangerous when it allows the outside world to admire Palestinian endurance rather than confront the conditions that make such endurance necessary.

There is nothing inspiring about a child learning her letters on the floor of a tent. There is nothing noble about forcing a generation to prove, again and again, that it still wants a future.

Children should not have to be resilient. They should have schools.

I am not asking for sympathy. Sympathy did not open the border for me in 2005, and it will not open it for Gaza’s students now. 

I’m asking to stop treating education as something that can wait, until after the war, after reconstruction, after every other need deemed more urgent.

That order is backwards.

For generations of Palestinians, education has been more than a route to employment. 

It has been a means of preserving identity, dignity and possibility under Israeli occupation and forced displacement. A pencil is not what you provide once the serious work is finished.

And the pencil is serious work. The fact that even pencils were kept out reveals how consequential the right to learn has become.

I was eventually able to begin again elsewhere. Most young people in Gaza have no such second chance. 

The obligation now is to ensure that education survives with them: that there are teachers to learn from, examinations they can sit, qualifications the world will recognise and universities prepared to receive them. 

Because a generation cannot be asked to rebuild Gaza after the world has allowed every path to its future to be erased.

The writer Hani Shehada, an educational expert in Gaza, contributed this article to TRTWorld.

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