There never was a ceasefire in Gaza, just killing by other means

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Gaza will bleed now once again, the world will watch, and in a few weeks or months, another “ceasefire” will be declared — only for it to be broken yet again, writes Dunya Sulaiman [photo credit: Getty Images]

A ceasefire in Gaza means silence — no drones circling overhead, no missiles streaking across the sky, no parents clutching their children, wondering if this night will be their last.

It means families emerge from the shadows, children return to what’s left of their schools, and a city like Gaza, gutted by war, can take in air without fearing it might be its last breath.

But even in the weeks that followed the current wave of attacks, there was no ceasefire. Not in the way the word is understood anywhere else in the world.

Long before Tuesday’s offence, when Israeli warplanes tore through homes, killing at least 400 people and injuring more, Palestinians were still being killed, starved, and suffocated under siege.

What Israel and the world call a ceasefire, Palestinians know as war by other means.

When Israel agreed to the ceasefire of its war on January 19, it did not stop attacking Gaza. And for around two months since, the airstrikes continued, albeit less frequently.

Even in the West Bank, Palestinians continued to be shot dead in broad daylight. The siege in Gaza remained intact, strangling access to food, water, and medicine. Even as officials and media figures parroted the term “ceasefire”, hospitals in Gaza collapsed under the weight of starvation, untreated wounds, and suffocating power cuts.

Then, on Tuesday March 18, the facade crumbled entirely. The illusion that there had ever been a pause was shattered as Israel escalated its attacks, revealing what Palestinians had always known: the so-called ceasefire was just a prelude to more devastation and heartbreak.

Israeli forces launched a full-scale assault across Gaza, targeting Khan Younis in the south, Gaza City in the north, and Deir el-Balah in central Gaza. Children were killed in their beds. Entire families were erased. The Palestinian Health Ministry reported that bodies were still buried under the rubble.

The truth is that Israel had never honoured the ceasefire. It had merely been waiting for the moment to launch its next attack. Peace, for Israel, is a threat. War is not a failure of policy. It is the policy.

The recurring cycle of trauma in Gaza

For decades, Israeli military strategists have spoken openly about “mowing the lawn”— a chilling term they use to describe routine, periodic assaults on Gaza to weaken Palestinian resistance and ensure control.

It strips war of its human cost, reducing the destruction of lives and homes to nothing more than scheduled maintenance. In their view, every few years, Gaza must be levelled, its infrastructure must be shattered, and its people must be forced to start over again.

The goal isn’t victory. The goal is punishment for daring to call for something beyond a life under occupation.

Even the idea of Palestinians having any real control over their own lives is something Israel refuses to accept. That’s why ceasefires are never honoured. That’s why every lull in war is punctuated by assassinations, raids, and blockades.

Israel doesn’t seek a final resolution to its war on Gaza because that would require acknowledging Palestinians as equals, as people with rights and claims to the land. Instead, it seeks the permanent management of Palestinian existence — through war, occupation, and apartheid.

This strategy has been consistent across every Israeli government, regardless of party. Netanyahu’s far-right coalition may be more blunt about it, but the logic of endless war has guided Israeli leaders for generations. Every ceasefire in Gaza has ended the same way— not because Palestinians broke it, but because Israel never intended to keep it.

This latest assault on Gaza is as much about Israeli politics as it is about military strategy. For decades, war has been central to Israel’s political landscape, serving as a tool to rally domestic support, silence dissent, and maintain the status quo of occupation.

Each military operation in Gaza reaffirms Israel’s dominance while shifting attention away from internal crises. Netanyahu, desperate to hold onto power, knows war is his best distraction. With a corruption trial hanging over him and growing discontent even within his own party, nothing serves him better than another round of bombing Gaza. His far-right allies, the ones keeping his fragile coalition alive, demand nothing less.

For a brief moment, people in Gaza allowed themselves to hope — not for peace, but for a pause long enough to bury the dead properly, to salvage what little remained of their homes, to search for missing loved ones under the rubble.

Some dared to imagine restarting their lives, however fractured. Shopkeepers reopened stalls amid the wreckage, families patched up their battered homes with whatever they could find, and parents whispered reassurances to their children that the worst was over. But the worst is never over.

Israel did not just bomb Gaza again — it bombed whatever sliver of normalcy people had tried to reclaim. The neighbourhoods that had barely begun to see movement again were flattened. Shelters where displaced families had gathered were reduced to debris. The grief was interrupted only by the urgent need to survive.

This is the cycle: war, ruin, survival, and then another war before recovery is even possible. Gaza has never been allowed the time to rebuild, let alone the space to dream of a different future. Every so-called ceasefire has ended the same way — with more destruction, more loss, and more proof that Palestinians are never meant to get back on their feet, only to brace for the next attack.

Gaza will bleed now once again, the world will watch, and in a few weeks or months, another “ceasefire” will be declared — only for it to be broken yet again. This cycle is not an anomaly; it is the norm. Every so-called truce has only served as an intermission before the next assault, reinforcing Israel’s grip while Palestinians are left to pick up the pieces. 

However, for Palestinians, there is no ceasefire. There is only survival, day by day, in the face of a war that never really ends. And until the world stops pretending otherwise, until Israel is held accountable, that war will continue either in slow motion or all at once. And it won’t stop until the world stops pretending Israel ever wanted peace.

Dunya Suleiman is a Gaza-based journalist and writer. They are writing under a pseudonym to protect their identity. 

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Opinions expressed here are the author’s own, and do not necessarily reflect those of their employer, or of The New Arab and its editorial board or staff.

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