The announcement of the cease-fire agreement in Gaza is undoubtedly the most critical moment in the ongoing conflict. For those of us who have witnessed, experienced, and then watched, cried, and encouraged from a distance, this pause in the war provides an opportunity to reflect on the past 15 months, and the heavy price that was paid for this temporary peace.
As a Palestinian, receiving this news feels like standing in the eye of the storm, in a quiet moment of peace surrounded by chaos and destruction. For me, that means the end of bloodshed, but the truth is, those we lost will never return, and these scars will never disappear. How can ceasing to fight change this fact?
Stopping war is often hailed as a victory in negotiations, but to me, it is like resting in a restless dream. This recent agreement is a reminder that, for the people of Gaza, survival often depends on political weakness. Children, mothers, and fathers have an uncertain future. I ask myself: Is this a step towards peace, or just another chapter in the story of delayed justice and more suffering?
The ceasefire, which has come under international pressure, includes a halt to airstrikes and rocket fire, as well as allowing aid to Gaza. These methods are very important. But their importance is also pretending that countries are failing to act quickly to prevent the problems that make this difficult. Help is important, but it cannot cure compression wounds, which are open and bleeding. Temporary peace cannot replace the freedom to live freely and dream without survival.
The International Court of Justice (ICJ), the International Criminal Court (ICC), and their mandates, which were intended to deal with crimes against our people, have been overshadowed by political inaction. Will the world follow these ways when the war ends, or will justice be buried under the mountain of authority and indifference? The failure to hold people accountable before, during, and after a conflict shows that these institutions are deeply flawed.
Help is important, but it cannot heal the wounds of oppression. Temporary peace cannot replace the freedom to live freely and dream beyond survival. This raises another important question: Will the Palestinian people regain their right to full political control and their fair diplomacy, or will they always be excluded from politics and shown to be aligned with the victim? Although international awareness of our problems is important, we must develop a way to be independent from untrustworthy global authorities.
For Palestinians, especially those in Gaza, the siege is its own kind of war. It's violence without bombs, but it's also destructive. The blockade, now 17 years old, has disrupted life. It has robbed families of opportunities, prevented them from gaining basic rights, and imposed a daily struggle that defies the limits of human endurance. How do we rebuild life in such conditions, knowing that this cessation of hostilities will end as quickly as it began? How do we dream of the future when today feels like an endless cry?
During the war, decisions such as suspending funding for the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA) exacerbated the humanitarian crisis. The failure of the international community, including organizations as different as the UN, G8, or BRICS, to intervene in time to restore such a vital life to the Palestinian people also reflects its failure to protect the lives of civilians and uphold humanitarian law. What happens when the safety net, once very fragile, is removed without global resistance strong enough to overcome the problem?
The countries of the world, especially the western countries, must face their responsibility in protecting this. Statements to help resolve conflicts do not make sense if they are not accompanied by action, accountability, protection of civilians, and a real commitment to addressing the root causes of these conflicts. The imbalance of power, the harsh reality of work, the blockade – these are not just stories. They are the root of the problem.
How can we trust the same US leadership – led by Biden and soon Trump – who pushed for an end to the war when his actions have disrupted peace in the region? The decisions of President-elect Donald Trump's first administration to move the US embassy to Jerusalem and recognize the Golan Heights as part of Israel are clear reminders of a policy that prioritizes power over justice. In addition, there are still fears that the administration will change its views on the West Bank, transferring the same principles of violence and migration there. Such decisions show that any pause in violence does not equate to a change in policy or priorities.
As I prepare for this moment, I feel both hope and anger. I hope this break will save lives, and the anger that has taken so much pain to even reach this fragile place. The cameras will turn soon, the world's attention will change, but for us, this is not the end. Ending war is not peace. It's the quiet moments in the endless storm. Until justice is done, until respect and equality are more than a distant dream, the cycle will continue.
This is not meant to diminish the meaning of non-combat to the people whose lives depend on it every day. For many, it means the difference between life and death. But as a Palestinian, I cannot ignore a deeper truth: peace is not just the absence of war. It is the presence of justice. It is the freedom to live without fear, to rebuild without the certainty of destruction, to dream without limits. Anything less is not peace. It's survival. And survival is not enough for people who deserve more.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect Al Jazeera's influence.