Military violence mustn’t remain business as usual, climate justice mustn’t remain business as usual, writes Mohammad Usrof [photo credit: Getty Images]
Although the fragile ceasefire in Gaza hangs by a thread, we can begin to reflect on the horror of the past 15 months. Israel’s genocide in Gaza has claimed over 62,000 lives, displaced millions, and turned the small, densely populated strip into a graveyard of human and environmental tragedy.
More than 42 million tonnes of rubble remain, exceeding the amount of rubble from all previous wars combined since 2008.
Removing the debris could generate over 55,000 tonnes of Carbon Dioxide (CO2) emissions, equivalent to 600 times the circumference of the Earth in truck trips.
However, the main issue now is how to approach the ‘day after’ genocide.
The moral, ethical, and environmental boundaries have exceeded what we once thought possible, leading, as expected, to widespread doubt and cynicism about the rebuilding effort — both physical and psychological.
Writer and scholar Nadera Shalhoub-Kevorkian nonetheless emphasises that acknowledging Western necrophilia is a way to challenge the dehumanisation of Palestinians and reclaim their lives and dignity. This concept, referred to as Ashlaa‘, addresses post-mortem realities, representing an act of love in Gaza.
The Gaza Strip has now become a site of geocorpographies, necropolitics, and green extractivism, but also of love, freedom, and futurism. The deeper connection between the land and human life in Palestine is what allows other liberation and indigenous movements to resonate with it.
As many have said, “We’re not freeing Palestine, Palestine is freeing us.” However, beyond the genocide and ecocide in Gaza there lies a deeper connection between militarised violence and the global climate crisis. As development plans emerge alongside the ceasefire, echoes of previous colonial efforts begin shaping up — ones deeply tied to petroculture.
The fossil fuel industry, which leads military operations globally, is directly linked to ecological destruction and the political frameworks that sustain occupations and war. Globally, the military is among the largest institutional consumers of fossil fuels.
Despite this, military-related emissions are largely exempt from reporting under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) under Decision 2/CP.3 (para.5). As noted by Michaelowa and Koch, the global military footprint is estimated to account for 5.5% of annual emissions — more than the combined emissions of the entire African continent.
These figures are magnified in the region and obscured further by carpet bombing during the genocide, logistical and reconstruction challenges, as well as indirect emissions from military supply chains and fossil fuel extraction.
In certain cases, such as that of the occupied Syrian Golan Heights, wind energy and development strategies are only part of the larger enduring coloniality.
In such cases, ideas of nativity, self-determination, and land sovereignty become a fantasy, and so, what becomes of climate justice without consideration for the Indigenous?
Israel’s genocide in Gaza paints a picture of the environmental toll of militarised violence. According to recent data, transporting Gaza’s debris to disposal sites alone could generate 37,000 tonnes of CO2e, while processing concrete rubble adds another 21,849 tonnes of emissions depending on the machinery used.
This does not include the emissions embedded in rebuilding Gaza’s devastated infrastructure, which may take decades under the current blockade according to UNDP reports published earlier in 2024.
Gaza’s ‘eco-sumud’: A decolonial tool for all?
The blockade on Gaza has worsened environmental degradation, as Israel’s restrictions on access to sustainable reconstruction materials have forced Palestinians to rely on recycled rubble to rebuild homes and infrastructure. As a result, innovation and “sustainable practices” have begun to emerge, even as the world touts its SDGs and peace initiatives.
One of the core Palestinian principles is the ability to remain resilient under genocide, occupation, and apartheid. This principle, when perceived from an environmental lens, translates to eco-sumud, or environmental steadfastness as a form of resistance.
The Gazan experience of recycling rubble, conserving scarce water, and protecting olive groves are acts of survival and defiance against a settler-colonial regime intent on erasure, making every attempt at preserving the environment a deeply political endeavour.
Eco-sumud therefore emerges as a decolonial tool for climate justice and resistance. The right to self-determination must be upheld, both for Palestinians and indigenous movements globally, from Standing Rock to Gaza. Frontline communities are at the forefront of the fight against fossil capitalism and imperial violence, making true climate justice inherently anti-colonial.
The UNFCCC must include war-related emissions in its transparency frameworks. Without accounting for military and conflict-related emissions, global climate efforts remain incomplete.
With annual military expenditures exceeding $2.4 trillion, even a fraction redirected toward climate finance could address critical funding gaps. The G77+China proposal to tax defence industries could generate $21 billion annually, supporting “sustainable development” where it is most needed.
Governments must cut ties with industries fueling both war and climate destruction. Fossil fuel divestment and ending arms sales to oppressive regimes are essential in dismantling the systems that perpetuate environmental and human rights violations.
Climate justice must centre on Indigenous sovereignty and reparations, not corporate greenwashing. Gaza’s experience highlights how imposed sustainability narratives often erase the agency of those directly impacted. A just climate future must be led by those on the frontlines of extraction and occupation.
Military violence mustn’t remain business as usual, climate justice mustn’t remain business as usual.
Decoloniality must exist in all frameworks of justice. The climate crisis and the occupation of Palestine are not separate issues; they are deeply intertwined manifestations of the same systems of domination perpetuated by the fossil economy and empire.
Addressing one requires addressing the other. As Gaza’s rubble reminds us, the fight for climate justice must dismantle the systems of fossil capitalism and imperialism that devastate both people and the planet.
Moreover, Palestine cannot remain a site of suffering, and as many have stated, it spearheads liberation movements through its resilience and eco-sumud. Climate justice means breaking free from fossil capitalism, imperialism, and war.
As Gazans recollect the Ashlaa’ of their loved ones in the hope of rebuilding Palestine, the world begins to build a world free of oppression, free of war.
Mohammed Usrof is a Palestinian researcher, climate justice advocate, and political strategist from Khan Yunis, Gaza. He is the Founder and Executive Director of the Palestinian Institute for Climate Strategy and a research assistant at the Institute for Palestine Studies.
Follow him on Instagram: @mohammed.usrof
Have questions or comments? Email us at: [email protected]
Opinions expressed in this article remain those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The New Arab, its editorial board or staff, or the author’s employer.